She nodded toward something going on behind him. “Don’t look now but a whole bunch of those committed parents are headed in this direction. And some of the kids from Josh’s team, too.”
He turned and saw that she was right. Actually, he’d been expecting this. “Here we go...”
The group stopped in front of him and one of the dads stood a little ahead of the others. Leo guessed he was the spokesman.
“Hi, Mr. Wallace—”
“Call me Leo.” He stood up and shook the man’s hand.
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Leo, I’m Bob Dempsey, assistant coach of the Predators. We’ve got a problem to discuss with you.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“Our head coach. He had a job transfer, and long-distance coaching isn’t going to work. As much as he regretted it, he had to quit. That leaves us in a bind.” He blew out a breath. “I would take over, but the travel demands of my job mean half the time I can’t be here for practices and games. If the boys don’t have a coach, they have to forfeit.”
“I know.” Leo was looking at the boys and knew shock, anger and the unfairness of it all was cranking up all their youthful testosterone. He hated to see anyone not get to play. “What about one of the other dads? Or one of the moms?”
“No one else knows enough about the game or has the time, due to family and job obligations.”
“That’s a problem,” Leo agreed.
“Josh Hutak came up with an idea and we thought it was worth a shot.”
“Okay.”
“Would you be willing to coach the boys? Obviously you know the game. You’re one of the greats.” Bob had a fanboy expression on his face. “You’re here a lot. We were hoping you have the time and might consider doing it for them.”
Leo had been afraid of this. It was true that he knew the game and had no family commitments. He glanced over his shoulder at Tess. At least not yet. Yeah, he’d reached out to Josh because running away from home made a big statement. But every one of these boys had a story. Every one of them could suck him in and they weren’t his kids. He knew how it felt to get sucked in and lose out. His thing was to not get personally involved. The rink was just business. Being a coach was more.
“Look, Bob—”
The man held up his hand to stop the words. “Just think it over. Please. Don’t say no yet.”
He really wanted to say it, and the word was on the tip of his tongue. But Leo heard a chorus of voices and the words blended together into a pleading from the boys. The word no just didn’t come out of his mouth.
He took the card with a phone number on it that the man held out. “Okay. I’ll think it over.”
“Thank you.” Bob shook his hand again and led the group away.
He tucked the card into his shirt pocket for later. It would be easier to turn them down when he didn’t have to look at their faces. Then he turned, and the look Tess was rocking told him where she fell on the issue.
“Don’t you pile on,” he warned her.
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means that before our sports bar opens, I’m going to have to give you a crash course in the high points of sports.” He put his hands on his hips. “I can’t be their coach.”
“You should.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“You used to play hockey and know the game. You used to be coached, so there’s that. You know how it’s done.” She tipped her head to the side and gave him what he thought of as her “kitten needing rescue” face. “You just told me that as far as revenue is concerned, you can’t really afford to lose a team. And here’s the big one. You told me that hockey was a lifeline when you were Josh’s age. He’s working his butt off to get his grades up so he can play. How do you tell him he can’t because you’re not willing to get involved?”
God, he hated how rational she was. She was using his words against him. But she’d never been more right.
He sighed. “Okay. I’ll give Bob a call and tell him they’ve got a coach.”
She smiled her approval at him. “You won’t regret it.”
He already did, because that smile touched him deep inside, in a place he’d sealed off to protect himself.
Chapter Ten
On the way home from the rink Tess stopped at the grocery store to pick up what she needed to make dinner. On the menu was oven-fried chicken, twice-baked potatoes and a salad with lots of fresh vegetables. When she got to Leo’s house, he was on the phone in his home office so she jumped right into meal prep.
She wasn’t working at her—correction their—business for another week, but at least she could make herself useful to earn her keep. After all, the man had given her a place to live.
She prepared the chicken on a cookie sheet after dipping it in egg, seasonings and cornflake crumbs. After putting it in the oven, she microwaved a couple of potatoes, scooped out the insides while saving the skin, and stirred butter, sour cream and chives into the mixture until it was just the right consistency. She sprinkled a little cheese on top and then slid them into the toaster oven to warm.
When the salad was made, she looked around the kitchen and realized she really felt at home here. And it had happened fast. The bar had been her home since she was six years old. Her apartment was cozy and you couldn’t beat the commute to work. But it sure hadn’t taken her long to settle in at Leo’s house.
They said you didn’t really know a person until you lived with them, and she’d learned how true that was. She’d made it a point to get to know her baby’s father. It was her obligation as a mother, right? Since she never really had one for most of her life, the fine print of the job was a little scary to her.
This kitchen was big, but felt even more ginormous without Leo in it. She wondered if he was still on the phone or just avoiding her. It was one thing to be lonely, all by herself in her apartment, but quite another when there was someone else here who sometimes treated her like an exotic-flu germ to be given a wide berth.
“I’ll just go see about that,” she said to herself. It was becoming a habit, talking to herself. And since he was here, she didn’t have to. Not until she went back to her place.
She walked into his office, where he was actually still on the phone. While she waited, she settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk. There was a sheet of paper in front of him with a list of names and phone numbers. At the top it said “Predators Team Roster.” Wow, Bob hadn’t wasted any time getting out from under his coaching duties.
“The game is Saturday morning, at eight,” he said into the phone. “I’d like Ethan to be at the rink thirty minutes early to loosen up, stretch and go over game strategy.” He listened for a few moments and gave Tess a little wave. “Great. Oh, one more thing. Would you be able to bring water and energy drinks, maybe a snack?” He listened again and his mouth pulled tight. Classic Leo annoyance. “Okay. See you Saturday.”
“I thought you were taking care of business in here,” she said.
“I am. Hockey business.”
“I guess you talked to Bob?”
“Yeah. He emailed the roster and game schedule.”
“Since when is hours of phone time part of coaching?” She was feeling a little guilty for shaming him into this.
“What Bob failed to mention when he made his pitch is that the coach’s wife was the team mom and did all the calls. So essentially we lost her, too.”
“So you don’t think she could be talked into staying behind to keep up the good work?”
He laughed. “Not likely, what with them being married and all.”
“I had no idea this would be so time-consuming.” More guilt crept in. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
“That’s right.” His gaze narrowed on her, but his mouth curved up, a sign he was teasing. “You talked me into this. It�
��s all your fault.”
“Don’t get crazy and say things you’ll regret. Why don’t you take a break. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Something smells good,” he said.
“It will be. You should have a beer. Chill out.”
“That is a very good idea.”
She stood and headed for the kitchen. “The least I can do is open one up for you.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Somehow she just knew he was staring at her butt as she walked away. Did he like what he saw? Did she want him to? Duh, no woman wanted a good-looking, former hockey-playing hunk of a man thinking her backside wasn’t top quality. But did she want more? Could she ever risk that again? With something as important as a baby to worry about, she had an awesome excuse to put that question away, hopefully forever.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a longneck bottle of beer and then twisted off the cap. When Leo walked into the room, she handed it to him and he took a long drink of the cold liquid. In her line of work she’d seen a lot of men drink a lot of beers, but never was it as sexy as this. His neck muscles moved as he swallowed, and she barely held back a sigh of appreciation.
His big hand dwarfed the bottle he held. “This almost makes up for you getting me into this.”
“I simply reminded you of what you already know.”
“Sort of like my conscience talking.” He took another drink of his beer. “And you’re right about everything you said. I couldn’t turn my back on Josh—or any of the other boys on the team, for that matter.”
His words tugged at her heart. There was a time when she would have had a snarky comeback to everything he said, but now that she knew his painful past, her inner snark was rocking a whole lot of respect for this man.
It occurred to her—not for the first time—that he had way more experience with this parenting thing than she did. Since her résumé had zero kid know-how, of the two of them, he was practically an expert.
Once he knew for sure he was her baby’s father, he was going to be a terrific dad. The question was, would she be a good mom?
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
She leaned back against the cupboards and folded her arms over her chest. As if that could stop him from seeing her deepest thoughts. “How do you know there’s anything on my mind? I never said that.”
“Your eyes are telling me.”
She stared at him because she so badly wanted to cover her face with her hands. She was going soft on him and would prefer he not know how soft. The thing was, they were going to share a child, so there were fears she had that he would find out about anyway. She should probably confess.
“I think you’re going to be a wonderful father,” she started. “And you have no idea what a relief that is to me.”
“Isn’t that jumping the gun? First we need to have DNA done.”
“Yeah, I get that. But it’s going to be a match. That’s not what worries me.”
He set his beer on the island beside him, giving her and this subject his complete attention. “So, what is it you need to get off your chest?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to be a terrible mother.” Her words came out in a rush.
“Are you mean to children? In the habit of tripping toddlers when they’re learning to walk?”
“You tease, but this is a legitimate concern for me.”
“Because your mother left you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“But that’s not all. And before you ask how I know that, your eyes are speaking volumes. Again.” He shrugged. “I’m sensitive.”
“Uh-huh. I wish my eyes would shut the heck up,” she said wryly, then heaved a sigh. “But you’re right. I’m a little nervous because everyone always said I look just like my mother. A clone. The spitting image.”
“So she was beautiful, too.” He leaned back against the counter as casual as you please. As if he told a girl every day that she was beautiful.
Well, that was unexpected. Nice, but still startling. And not her point. “She left me. A good mother doesn’t abandon her child. The least she could do is stick around and take responsibility for screwing up her kid.”
“You think you’re messed up?”
“Don’t you?”
“That’s not the first thing about you that comes to mind.” His eyes went dark and intense for just a second. It was so quick, the change could be blamed on imagination.
Ignoring that was probably the best move, so she did. “What if I’m more like her than just looks? What if I can’t handle the pressure of raising a child?”
“What if an asteroid crashes into the earth?”
“You joke, but I’m serious about this.”
“I meant it in the context that you being a mom failure is about as likely as the asteroid/earth collision thing. Lighten up, Tess. You’re going to do fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Instinct.”
“And yet there’s still a doubt in your mind about whether the baby is yours.” She held up a hand. “Scratch that. After what you went through, I can hardly blame you. But really—instinct?”
“If you weren’t concerned, I would be worried. But you’re all over this, which says there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I wish I had your confidence. And experience,” she added.
“So get some.”
“How? Rent a kid?”
“Funny,” he said. “No, be the team mom.”
“For your hockey team?”
“Yeah. You already know Josh. You’ve got time right now, until the bar’s grand reopening.”
Except for the fact that it could be a slippery personal slope working that closely with him on anything other than business, she didn’t have a good reason to say no. “Other women get a plant or a dog to test their nurturing abilities but I get a hockey team?”
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it.” He shrugged. “Deep end of the pool, Tess. Jump in.”
“Okay. I’ll do it.” She blew out a long breath. “So, what are my eyes telling you now?”
He studied her closely. “Either dinner is ready or you want to choke me.”
“How about both?”
“Good. I’m starving.”
So was she. And hopefully he couldn’t see how badly she wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him.
* * *
Leo had forgotten about the adrenaline rush of winning a hockey game. Since he broke his ankle, ending his pro career, he’d been trying to fill that void with women and sex. Watching the boys win was almost as good as playing on the winning team. Although as coach, technically he did, but he missed the rush of racing up and down the ice, working his ass off and the elation of scoring a goal.
Tess was standing beside him now, taking everything in with wide-eyed interest. She’d packed the ice chest with bottled water and energy drinks, and there was a bag with some empty-caloried treat that the kids would love. Parents and spectators were filing up the bleacher stairs, heading for the exit to wait for their kids outside, where it was warm. He watched the boys, now at center ice and skating slowly by members of the opposing team, shaking hands.
“Men are weird.” With a puzzled look on her face, Tess stared at the team members passing each other.
“Should I be offended?”
“Oh...” She looked apologetic. “That didn’t come out right.”
“You think?”
“Sorry, it’s just that I don’t understand how one minute they’re hitting each other, trying to take away that round black thing—”
“Puck,” he said.
“Right. That. So they smack into someone—”
“It’s called checking,” he told her.
“Because that sounds so much better tha
n hit or smack.”
“It’s a technical term. As in checking their forward progress down the ice.”
“Anyway.” She sighed. “They do that—checking—and knock each other on their butts. Now they’re shaking hands and laughing. If that was me, I’d be so mad.”
“Checking is part of the game. They all know it’s not personal and when the game is over, it’s over. Shaking hands teaches them sportsmanship. They learn to be gracious winners and good losers.”
“Hmm. Lessons for being a grown-up,” she mused.
“Exactly.”
She nodded, then grinned. “I still think men are weird. Just saying.”
“I could say the same about women, if I wasn’t such a gentleman.” He met her gaze and saw the teasing in hers. “You cry when you’re happy or sad. Say ‘fine’ when you’re anything but. And tell a guy you don’t want to talk about it, then do a ten-minute monologue on why you’re upset with a flower arrangement instead of a single rose.”
“Because a single rose is more romantic,” she said in a teasingly superior tone that also fell into the sassy range. “Everyone knows that.”
“Guys don’t.”
“Because you’re weird. I rest my case. Enough said.”
She was a piece of work, and not in a bad way. After taking on team-mom duties, she’d jumped in with both feet. Phone calls got made, the kids showed up on time and she’d put together drinks and snacks for today’s game. And that reminded him...
“Do not carry that ice chest back to the car.”
“But it will be empty.” Her face had the “men are weird” look on it again.
“I can’t believe you were going to carry it full.”
“It rolls,” she defended.
“Not out of the car. Fortunately I was there.” They’d come here together.
“I thought you had to get to the team and warm them up.”
“There was time,” he said.
“Well, I’m used to doing things on my own. And besides, I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“Not a newsflash.”
Before he could say more, the guys skated over and started taking bottled water and energy drinks out of the ice chest. It was too loud and raucous to have any conversation at all.
An Unexpected Partnership (HQR Special Edition) Page 12
