Page 18 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“I’ll have diet Pepsi,” Shelby says and glares at me, daring me to stop him. I nod. I’m no dictator, but I am paying the bill for the whole crowd, relenting from my earlier threat because the guys came close and worked their asses off doing chin-ups on top of the regular grind. Not that these assholes are fully aware of my generosity yet, but I communicate my intention to pay to Winiski before she hurries off. She has a pretty smile, a pleasant personality, and I have no idea why there’s not one whiff of chemistry between us. I wish there was. It would make my life easier.

Then maybe I could deflate the boner I get every time I think of her coach.

Speaking of Coach Amanda Lake, or thinking of her, because she seems to be like the screensaver on my mind, always there in the background, she walks in the door with Randy, Trey, and Dooley. Everyone at our table stops whatever they’re doing including arguing over the best pizza toppings, folding the napkin into a football to flick across the table and checking out the table nearest ours with a group of giggling girls, and they all turn their attention to the group that just walked in.

They’re laughing and loud as Dooley struts in wearing an oversized hockey jersey matching Trey’s. Bane claps Amanda on the back as if she’s said something funny. She probably did. And it was probably some kind of ball-busting. Then he leaves his hand there as the group joins our table.

“Let’s get another chair here for the lady,” Bane says.

“No thanks. I’m only here to pick up takeout.” Coach doesn’t meet my eyes, but the way she avoids them tells me she’s aware of me.

“Sit with us while you wait.” Bane steals the empty chair from the table with the giggling girls next to us without more than a wave of thanks and slides the chair in next to his. At the far end of the now very crowded table.

While I can’t stop staring in her direction, Coach Lake has no trouble whatsoever ignoring me completely. She sits there listening to Bane and who the hell knows what they’re talking about—they’re so far away I can’t hear a word—but her smile is making me crazy. Her black boots, jeans, and sweater tight enough to give the appearance of a catsuit draw me in like she’s a fucking black hole. It takes more willpower than it should for me to look away, but I do, with the help of Trey Eagleton.

“You know Coach Lake?” he asks. Shelby, who’s sitting on my other side, laughs.

“They’re practically dating,” he says. Eagleton is an even-keeled guy and barely raises an eyebrow at Shelby’s baiting. He waits for me to give him the real answer.

“Coach Radz set her up as my tutor in finance.” I make it sound like a prison sentence. Eagleton smiles.

“That’s bad. Tough break, man.” He pats my back and pulls a mini hockey stick from his pocket and reaches over to whack the napkin-football from Shelby’s grasp. A nonsensical jock-melee ensues. I watch until my attention is grabbed by Coach Lake standing and leaving the table.

In spite of the cajoling, pleading and outright begging of the guys at her end of the table, she escapes, disappearing down the long bar and around the corner. Without ever once making eye contact with me. Fuck if that doesn’t sting. But it’s best. And I should have expected it, if I didn’t have such a big ego to think there was a mutual attraction.

The woman pretended her dog was a guy to get rid of me, for fuck’s sake. Any flirting she did was either my imagination or she was toying with me. Not that it should matter.

Sure. That’s why she looked away before I dropped the towel in the locker room. Because it was an adolescent fucking move to even hint at. Stupid. Lesson learned.

And now I wish to hell I could order a whiskey. Or maybe find a sweet girl who is also interesting—or maybe that’s an oxymoron? Or maybe I’m a moron.

Emily returns to the table with two young men assisting her and they pile the pizzas on the table along with Shelby’s soda, a dozen glasses of water, and a basket of piping hot churros.

“Churros. Mmm. I want to kiss you, sha,” I say to Emily because it’s my authentic response to the enticing scent of churros, but she, of all things, blushes. Oops. Shelby clears his throat and grabs a churro from the basket. Gotta watch it with this girl. She apparently takes the usual harmless flirting seriously. Either she’s an innocent or she has a crush. Either way, I wipe the smile off my face and take the bill from her hand with no more than a nod.

“The churros are on the house. Um, Leon says—said you like them.” She’s still standing there and I’m nodding, trying not to smile, but it’s damn hard because I like her—except not in that way.

“Is this guy giving you a hard time, Emily?” The sexy, raspy voice sets off the-all-hands-on deck alarm to my dick and I look up to see the opposite of Emily, her coach, Amanda Lake, put an arm around her player. She’s still not looking at me.

But it doesn’t matter because the blood is draining from my face and everywhere else and heading down to where it has no business gathering.

“He’s harmless,” Shelby says, “but he may be grumpy because he’s paying the bill. Good to see you again, Coach.” He has no problem smiling at both Coach and Emily. I double down on my scowl since it’s apparently more effective than I realized.

“Good man,” she says, flicking her eyes in my direction and I think she means it. She nods, gives Emily’s shoulder a small squeeze, and then leaves with her takeout. Emily still stands there and now I have no clue what to say because she’s looking at me like I’m her heart throb.

Shelby clears his throat again and grabs a slice of pizza. When I’m about to say something and even I don’t know what all is going to come out of my mouth, except that it’ll certainly be inane, my phone rings. I don’t think it finishes one full ring before I answer the blessed thing. Without looking at who it is.

“It’s loud, sha, baby. Are you out?” Shit. It’s my mom. I stand and back away from the table. Emily leaves after Jasper asks her for hot sauce and I answer Shelby’s inquiring look, mouthing my mom.

“Tell her to send another one of those cakes.”

Moving away from the table to a quieter space on the other side of the door, I try to calm my worries.

“Hey, Mom, yeah. I’m out with the guys at Wildbeast Pizza. Everything okay?” I hold my breath, begging the universe for the right answer.

“Nothing we can’t deal with.” She pauses and my heart rate kicks up.

“What is it?”