at the stove and place my hand on his shoulder. “Why?”
A quick glance over his shoulder at the girls and Elva, then he lowers his voice. “That Jared kid has a ton of potential, but his dad’s convinced him that he’s better than everyone else and always will be. I told him his size will only work for him for so long and that he needs to work on his footwork and some other basic skills.” He rubs the side of his jaw with the back of his hand. “He kind of challenged me, and I can’t resist a challenge.”
“For how long?” I search his face for something, but I’m not sure what it is.
“A couple of hours.”
“No.” I shake my head. “How long will you be available to coach these kids?”
Realization dawns in his eyes. “Not sure.” He shrugs. “A couple of weeks, maybe more if the Thunder doesn’t make it to the playoffs. I’m still hoping McKay can pull a few more wins out of his ass.” He whispers the last word, then glances over his shoulder at the Twinkies. “Don’t tell ’em I cussed. They’ve already taken me for ten dollars today.”
A happy, carefree laugh explodes from me. It feels good and I have the man next to me to thank for my cheerfulness. I turn and lean my butt against the counter with my hands resting on the edge of the cool granite next to my hips. “My lips are sealed.”
He pulls the dish towel from his shoulder and pops it at my hip. “If you’re joining us for dinner, then you’ll have to work for it.”
“Oh, I’m joining you, and I’ll do anything you tell me to do, QB.” QB? Who am I? And why did that come out on a growl?
His dark eyes dilate, and he searches my face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen, and I’m lost. “Shut up, and help Kayla set the table.”
I pluck a piece of carrot from the salad sitting next to me on the counter and pop it into my mouth. “Whatever you say, Coach.”
“Whatever I say, huh?” He seems to be having trouble getting the correct amount of air into his lungs to ask the question.
Good.
I look him up and down, and there’s no mistaking the fire blazing in his eyes. “As long as you wear that apron and nothing else. It’s giving me all kinds of Top Chef fantasies.”
“Oh, you like to be on top?”
This conversation has taken a turn into what the hell territory, and is totally inappropriate with Elva, Kayla, and the Twinkies five feet away, but I don’t care. “Top, bottom, sideways, doesn’t matter to me.” I pick a cherry tomato from the salad and put it to my lips.
He leans in, all his focus on my mouth. Without taking my gaze from his, I place the red flesh of the fruit between my teeth and bite. For a moment I enjoy the tart juice as it squirts down my mouth, until I see Cash flinch. That’s when I see tomato juice on his face.
He covers his eye and shouts, “Shit. It burns.”
“Coach cussed!” the Twinkies yell.
“Oh, my Lord. Let me help.” I grab the dish towel from his shoulder and dab at his eye. I’ve just blinded the number one quarterback in the NFL.
Thirty-Five
Cash
“You owe the swear jar a dollar,” one of the Twinkies says.
I dig my wallet out of my back pocket and toss it in the direction of the table where my audience sits. “Here, take it all because I’m about to fill this kitchen with some serious profanity.”
“Okay, girls, that’s our cue to skedaddle,” Elva says. The scrape of chairs on the wood floor signals their obedience. The back door slams shut, and I let loose a string of curses that would have my mama washing my mouth out with soap.
“I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-sorry,” Tiger chants and jabs my eye with the dish towel.
“It’s fine, just stop poking me in the eye.”
“Oh, my heavens, I … what can I do?”
My good eye peeks open. “Step away from the fruits and vegetables until I can see again.”
She steps back and puts a kitchen chair between us, I guess to let me know she’s no longer a threat.
I move to the sink, flip on the tap, and lean my head over. The cool water runs into my eye, and that feels almost as bad as the tomato juice. Slowly but surely, the burning eases. I feel around for the towel but