Pete Sebastian, Coach

by Jean C. Joachim

  “But no steady man?”

  She shook her head. “There’s always been a new guy just around the corner.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said, grinning. “A woman who looks like you, with your brains, I’ll bet the guys lined up to go out with you. Probably still do.”

  “Mitzi would agree with you. Not sure I do though.”

  “You’re beautiful and smart.”

  “And too independent, right?”

  “Not for me.”

  “You’re willing to take on the challenge of changing me, making me into a real woman?” Even to her own ears, her tone sounded biting and sharp.

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry.” She reached up and cupped his cheek.

  “You don’t need to be defensive with me. I admire what you’ve done, what you’ve accomplished. It’s not easy to be a woman in the NFL.”

  “Damn right. Thanks.”

  “But it’s hard to believe you’re satisfied being alone. Seeing how you are with me, so passionate and sweet.”

  “Sweet? Me?”

  “I think Daisy could vouch for that too.”

  She laughed.

  “You’re not the tough broad you want people to believe. I’ve seen some of your other side,” Pete said, clasping her hand again.

  She pulled away from him and moved closer to the water.

  He followed, cupping her shoulders. “Don’t be tough with me, Josie. You don’t need to. Open up. Let me in. Let me take care of you, at least a little bit.” His lips brushed her ear.

  He had taken care of her already. Coach was there with hugs and words of encouragement when she was upset. That’s more than she’d gotten from others, except Beth and Mitzi. And now, it appeared Mitzi was off the list. Jo sighed.

  He snaked his arm around her waist. Heat from his body so close to her back warmed her. She took a deep breath of fresh, salty air. I want to count on him. But what if he lets me down? He’s human. Still, I love being around him. Pete made no bones about wanting Jo, physically and mentally. He’d welcomed her into his life, even introduced her to his daughters. He’s doing better with this than I am.

  With his mouth still close to her ear, he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard above the waves, “I love you.”

  As if Cupid had shot an arrow through her heart, she flinched. He wrapped warm fingers around her upper arms.

  “Oh, Pete. I…I…” she tried, but the words wouldn’t come.

  He bent to kiss her neck. “I know, baby. I know.”

  Happy tears threatened, but Jo blinked them away. Twisting out of his grasp, she spun around and hugged him. Coach lowered his mouth, pressing a hungry kiss against her lips. She clung to him as if he was her life force. Love raced through her veins, mimicking the rush of the waves breaking and crashing behind her.

  New feeling tumbled through her. Joy mixed with fear. No more holding back. I’m in this time. In all the way. When they broke, his gaze heated her. “I love you, too, Pete” flew out of her mouth before she could censor it.

  His wide grin rewarded her honesty. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her hair. “I knew you did. Just waiting for you to know it too.”

  “Pretty cocky,” she replied.

  “Wusses never win.” The wind picked up, sending goosebumps down her arms. Pete rubbed them. “Let’s go in. I think you need hot coffee.”

  With her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders, they left the beach, grabbed their shoes, and returned to the house. Pete put up a pot of coffee. His daughters had retreated to the privacy of their rooms. Jo and Pete stood at the large window, sipping the brew and peering out at the ocean.

  “So, when are you moving in?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You heard me, missy.”

  “Well, let me see…” She gazed at the ceiling then directly into his eyes. “Next weekend too early for you?”

  He laughed.

  She shivered. Sure hope I know what I’m doing.

  Chapter Nine

  June was a busy time for Jo and Pete. His daughters returned to school and their internship. Not completely out of her mind, she told him, Jo kept her house, didn’t even put it on the market. Having her own place to run back to provided a safety net for the woman who had never committed. So, Jo moved in with Pete. While he was dancing on air to have her around, she smiled, but made no comment.

  As training camp approached, his life got more and more hectic. He looked forward to knocking off work and heading home with Jo. To save gas, they’d ride to and from the stadium together. Dinner was spent catching up. Sharing his triumphs and frustrations with her eased his mind. After watching a movie or a bit of television, they went to bed, where worries melted away in the heat of passionate lovemaking. Every morning, Pete woke up to see Jo sleeping by his side. He thanked the stars, the moon, and God for his good fortune.

  Coach Bass’s days were spent in meeting after meeting with his coaching staff, setting up goals for training camp. Lyle Barker and Cap, the General Manager, met with Pete to discuss contract strategies. Coach Bass wracked his brain looking for a way to keep Trunk Mahoney that didn’t involve millions of dollars.

  Jo met with Wendy McMillan several times. Pete spied them talking and shuffling stacks of paper in the conference room. Over dinner, Jo would run by him the groups she and Wendy had devised. Sometimes, Pete would make a face and tell her that the teammates she’d grouped together would end up in a fist fight, or some such insight. Several players had already requested to be moved to a different time because of family conflicts or tiffs with other guys. Jo confessed the she was dizzy trying to keep everyone’s schedules, personalities, and disputes straight.

  Curly Hawkins, one of the older trainers, refused to attend. Even the lure of money didn’t move him. Everyone on the team knew Curly had one of the biggest anger problems of anyone, player or staff. Yet, the old man refused to budge. His excuse was that he was three years from retirement, so it didn’t matter.

  Apparently unwilling to let Curly ruin their perfect attendance, Jo had gone to Lyle Barker for help. She must have caught him at the end of a frustrating day because Lyle then went to see Curly in the locker room. The two men got into a shouting match, and Lyle fired him on the spot.

  Coach Bass was shocked. Later that night at home with Jo, he brought up the subject. Pete brushed his teeth and removed his boxers before sliding into bed with his beloved. “God damn fucking Curly Hawkins.”

  She rolled over and looked at him. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Curly’s been with the Kings for twenty years. He knows everything. Everyone. How the hell am I going to get through this season without him? Why did you have to start this stupid program, anyway?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Belligerence grabbed him by the throat and wouldn’t let go.

  She pushed up on one elbow. “You’re criticizing my program because some idiot threw a temper tantrum and got fired?”

  “If your stupid program didn’t exist, I’d still have Curly.”

  “Oh? I guess idiots stick together!” She threw the covers down and pushed out of bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going home. I don’t have to take this abuse.”

  “It’s not abuse. I haven’t touched you.”

  “There’s more than one kind,” she replied, shooting an icy stare at him while she pulled on her jeans.

  “Don’t go. Don’t go, Jo. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah? Sorry? You’re not sorry. You just don’t want to lose a bed buddy for tonight. Well, too damn bad!”

  He leaped out of bed too as she whistled for the dog and snatched up her bag.

  “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”

  “Come on, Jo. I lost my temper. It’s not that serious. Don’t go.” He grabbed her hand.

  “It’s that serious to me. You were horrible. Disrespectful. Nasty. I could go on. And about to get worse. I
’m going home. Think about what you did.” She scooted down the stairs with Daisy right behind her and was out the door in a flash.

  Pete slumped down on the steps and hit himself in the forehead with his hand. “Shit, fuck, God damn!” He went to his favorite spot to pace, in front of the picture window, then threw a sofa pillow at the wall. The phone rang. Jo? He dove for his cell.

  “Pete?”

  “Oh, Bill. Hi.”

  “I’m not the IRS, Pete. You could sound a little happier to hear from your brother.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy. I thought maybe you were Jo.”

  “Jo? What happened?”

  “I was an asshole. That’s what happened.”

  “Nothing new there. Want to tell me about it?”

  “I’d rather forget it.”

  “Will she?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then, let me get to the recliner. There. Okay. Shoot.”

  “It all started with this stupid anger management program…well, no, actually, it didn’t. It started with stupid Curly Hawkins, a trainer…”

  * * * *

  Jo huffed up the steps of her house with Daisy on the leash trotting along behind her. She lugged the heavy valise to the front door and stopped to catch her breath. Righteous indignation burned in her chest. “That big ape. Thinks he can treat me like that? Fuck him.” She pushed her way inside.

  She dropped the bag with a thud and filled a water bowl for the pug. Then, she plucked a cold bottle of Moscato out of the fridge and filled a large glass. She flounced into the living room, still steaming, and stood by the sliding glass doors to the deck. She watched the activity at the bird feeder and drank, all the while mumbling angry words about Pete to the dog, who curled up on the rug and snored.

  Feeling like she was going to explode, Jo called Beth. “I have to talk to you.”

  “What’s wrong?” Her friend sounded sleepy.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No worries. Just tell me. Is it the new guy?”

  “Pete? You bet it is.”

  Fueled by her anger, Jo poured out the whole story. Beth interrupted with an occasional question, but otherwise listened.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking? Moving in with that rat bastard.” Jo settled back on the sofa and took a breath.

  “You’re kidding, Jo, right? You’re making this up?”

  “I am not! He said those very things.”

  “You got mad because he called your program stupid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on. He was just blowing off steam. He’s pissed his trainer left right before camp starts. You’d be a wild woman if that had happened to you.”

  “Sure, I’d be upset. But I wouldn’t be disrespectful to someone I’m supposed to love.”

  “You’re overreacting. “

  “Am not.”

  “Are too. Where are you now?”

  “Home.”

  “You moved out? Over this?”

  “Well…”

  “Maybe you’re right. Marriage isn’t for you. You’re gonna have fights. He’s gonna be disrespectful sometimes, and so are you. You’ll say things you’ll regret. So will he. But if it’s love, you forgive and forget. Did he apologize?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? What exactly did he say?”

  “He said he was sorry,” Jo replied. Her voice was almost a whisper. “He begged me not to leave.”

  “And you left anyway?”

  “Yep.”

  “What kind of a wife are you?”

  “I’m not his wife.”

  “You’re playing house with him. You might as well be. You didn’t let him apologize and try to make you feel better?”

  “I stormed out.”

  “Bad form, Jo. You’ve got to roll with the punches. Not every argument is your last, a deal breaker, the end of the world.”

  “I’m not good at this, Beth.”

  “Well, get good at this! You’ve got a fantastic man who loves you to death. Figure out how to make it work. Now you’re the one who should apologize.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you deserted him. Even after he said he was sorry.”

  “Pfft. Not doing that.”

  “Girl, if you can’t learn to apologize, you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts! I’m getting off the phone. Think about what I said. Call him. Don’t lose this guy, Jo. From what you’ve told me, he’s a keeper.”

  Beth hung up. Jo chewed her lip. She’d have to spend tonight alone. Daisy sat by the door and yawned. Jo fastened her leash and took the dog for the last walk of the night.

  Once tucked in, the bed seemed so huge. She stretched her arm out over the empty space. Rolling over to face the window, she spied the moon. She wondered if Pete was lying down, staring outside too. Daisy shifted at the foot of the mattress. Jo sighed. Sleep wouldn’t come.

  At one thirty, she threw off the covers. “This is ridiculous. Talk about stupid. Now I am being stupid.” She tugged on her jeans and a shirt, leashed the dog, grabbed her bag, and headed for her car.

  The crunch of her tires on the gravel of Pete’s driveway sounded very loud in the still of the night. It was two thirty, and the people of Monroe had bedded down for the night.

  “He’s probably sleeping. If I tiptoe in, I can slip between the sheets,” she whispered to Daisy. The dog yawned. Jo schlepped her stuff and her pooch up the steps, creeping as silently as she could. The jingle of the keys Pete had given her echoed in the quiet night.

  Opening the door slowly, she spied a huge shadow and gasped, flinging the door wide, smacking Pete, who was hiding behind it, ready to spring. It bounced off his forehead and ran over his bare foot. He howled, causing Daisy to become instantly alert and start barking.

  “Pete? Is that you?” Jo asked, ushering the dog inside and closing the door.

  “Damn. Fuck. That hurts.” He put down a huge, cast iron frying pan. “Jo?”

  “It’s me.” She eased the strap of her bag off her shoulder, lowering the heavy bundle to the floor.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you want me here?”

  “I do, I do. What I mean is, why did you come back? Shit. That didn’t come out right either.”

  Trembling slightly, she spoke, “I missed you.”

  “You did? Oh, yeah. You did. I’m sorry, so sorry, Josie, baby, honey. I promise never to speak that way about your program again. I was an asshole.”

  “You certainly were.” She placed her hands on her hips.

  Pete hobbled over to her and engulfed her in a huge hug. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

  “What? Leave?”

  “Yeah. Fight with me. Hit me. Throw things at me. But don’t ever just walk out like that.”

  She wound her arms around him, and the anxiety in her chest dissipated.

  “My ex did that. One day she was here, and the next she was gone. No note. Nothing. A week later, I got a letter from her lawyer. So, please, don’t ever just leave. We had a fight. A disagreement. I was a jerk. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  “And it doesn’t mean I don’t love you either, Pete. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have left.”

  “Thank you. Promise you’ll stay?”

  “I will.”

  “And if…when we fight, you’ll talk it through, not take to the hills at the first angry word?”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good. I love you, baby. I didn’t think you were ever coming back. You scared me to death.”

  “Scared myself too.”

  “Missed me, huh?” He looked down at her with a lascivious grin.

  “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll show you just how much.”

  “Makeup sex. The best.”

  “I’ve never had makeup sex,” she admitted.

  “Oh, you’re in for a treat. It’s li
ke falling in love all over again.”

  Pete lifted her bag, and they retired to the bedroom. Jo turned to check, and it was true—the moon shone brighter in Pete’s bedroom and makeup sex was awesome.

  * * * *

  Jo worked each day setting up publicity for the season. She scheduled interviews with Pete, Lyle, and several players to be scattered during the fall. She needed to keep the King’s name in front of the public in a good way.

  After her lunch with Samantha Drake, she sat back in her desk chair, formulating a plan to have the team support the women’s shelter. It was such a perfect tie-in with the anger management program.

  But sexy images of Coach Bass soon short circuited her concentration. A woman who enjoyed sex, Jo had never been preoccupied with it before. But she had never slept with a man like Pete Sebastian before either.

  Parts of her body tingled as recollections of his hands and lips touching her bare skin flitted through her brain. She’d force herself to focus on helping the shelter then have to stop as sexy thoughts about Coach Bass pushed business away. Finally, she decided to give in and sat back, resting her feet on her trash can and staring out the window.

  Hornier than she ever remembered being, Jo licked her bottom lip. Visions of him naked in bed, waiting for her, spiked her need higher. She envisioned running her restless fingers over his chest. Tension gathered between her legs and a slight ache grew inside. There are a zillion people here. We can’t do anything. A glance at her watch showed four o’clock. Hmm, Lyle and Edie leave at five on the dot.

  Busying herself answering email, time passed quickly. Another glance at her watch showed five fifteen. She rose from her desk, moistened her lips, and peeked up and down the hall. Not a person in sight. Slipping off her bra, pantyhose, and panties, she stuffed them in her bottom drawer.

  The place sounded eerily quiet. She smiled, heading for Pete’s office. The light was on. She prayed he was alone. She tapped lightly on the door.

  “Come in.”

  With passion pulsating through her, she took a deep breath. His jacket was thrown over the back of his chair. Seated at his computer, he’d pulled down his tie, which hung over his belt. The top two buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing a little chest hair. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. He wore his chrome watch. God, when he rolls up his sleeves! She stared at his powerful forearms, especially his right, the arm he had used to rifle a football to touchdown after touchdown.