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I take a slice of French bread Sam already cut off the cutting board and take a bite. “I think they’re going to hire him.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Freaking nepotism at its finest.”
“That’s what I told Jack Dalton!”
She sighs dreamily. “You have the best job. You talked to Jack Dalton today. And I’m over here like, Lord, bless me with a football player…”
“Well, yeah, it’s great, but it was just a quick word, not a romp or anything since he’s happily married, and Jack had the nerve to tell me that the job I’m going for is essentially nepotism, too!” I set the bread down and lean on the counter, pissed about that conversation and unwilling to admit that, well, he’s right.
“Well…it sort of is, isn’t it?” she points out.
“Ugh!” Frustrated tears fill my eyes. “I mean, I guess, sort of. It just sucks that if I get this job, everyone will either say it’s because of my family or because I’m a woman. It’ll never be because I’m the best candidate for it.”
“Couldn’t the same be said for Lincoln?” she asks.
The tears tip over. I’m so, so good at schooling this shit except when it comes to Sam. I let it all out in front of her. Poor woman. “But he’s an asshole! I’m not! I’m nice!”
She laughs and narrows her eyes at me. “You? Nice?”
I laugh.
“Being nice doesn’t mean anything, especially not in the cutthroat business you’re in,” she says.
“I know. I’m just so frustrated.”
“I get it. And maybe he won’t get the job.” She shrugs with a bit of hope.
“Maybe,” I allow, but I don’t have much hope she’s right. “But maybe he will.”
“You know what I think?” she asks, and she grabs the pot of boiling noodles and dumps them into the colander sitting in the sink.
“What?”
She shakes the colander and lets it sit to drain the pasta, and then she turns and looks at me. “I think deep down, you’ve got a thing for ol’ Linc, and that is why you’re so opposed to him coaching the Aces.” Before I get a chance to respond, she yells, “Boys! Two minutes until dinner!”
I glare at her. That is not why I’m opposed to it.
I’m opposed to him coaching my favorite team because he’s a dick straight out of a family that’s an entire bag of dicks.
Whether or not I find him attractive has absolutely nothing to do with it.
And whether or not I still have feelings for him is also irrelevant.
Completely.
CHAPTER 4: LINCOLN
I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms then glance at the clock. It’s a little after eleven, and I should probably go to bed since I’ll be up early tomorrow to head into the office and meet with the other coaches.
Players get an offseason, but coaches really don’t. We work year-round, and just because I interviewed with the Aces doesn’t mean I’ll get the position. I’m still the offensive coordinator for the Rams until I sign a contract elsewhere, so I still have work to do here in California. If the job goes to one of the other ten or so candidates the team has interviewed, then my title doesn’t change.
But I want my title to change.
I enjoy being the OC for a great team. Members of the coaching staff have become some of my closest friends. But relationships change, and that’s part of this career. It’s part of this life. It’s a business, and those close friends are my business associates. We’ll have secrets to keep once one of us moves on from the team, and friendships will transition to something else.
Maybe it’s a small part of why I want this head coaching position. I’ve moved around a lot over the last few years as I’ve worked my way up, and I want to settle somewhere. I want a home base. There’s nowhere to go once I hit this goal except the front office, and I’ve never wanted a position there.
A head coaching position will be my last position in football. I hope it lasts for the rest of my career. I hope I get to retire with a few championship rings on my fingers at a ripe old age like Mitch Thompson from the Aces just did.
