Coach.” Asher turned and started off in the opposite direction.
“I never said you were,” Cole called out, following him. “You’d be helping me out.”
Asher stopped. “I don’t know anything about renovating a house.”
“Well,” Cole said, “I’d be helping you out too.”
The kid frowned.
“Look, I don’t think for one second you want to quit football. I’ve seen you throw. I’ve seen you practice. I know you love the game more than anything else.”
“Not more than my brothers.”
“What if you could do both?” Cole asked. “Stay on the team and still make money to help your brothers.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need a handout.”
Cole scoffed. “You don’t know me at all if you think this is a handout. I’ll work your tail off.”
“No thanks,” Asher said. “I know what I need to do, and I hate to say it, Coach, but you wouldn’t get it.”
More proof Asher didn’t know him at all.
“Look, I’m not gonna beg,” Cole said. “I want you on the team, and I think football is going to give you some great opportunities in the future. I need some help with my house, and learning that kind of work can only help you down the road. That’s it. No ulterior motive, no offer of charity.” Cole stopped before adding, “And if you’re too dumb to realize that, there’s not much more I can do”—but it took everything he had to keep his mouth closed.
His father hadn’t taught him much in the way of life skills. Everything Cole had learned, he’d learned from Steve. His stint at Haven House hadn’t lasted long, but that hadn’t mattered to the man. He got in Cole’s business when he lived there, and he stayed in it long after he’d gone.
Steve had taught him one important negotiation tactic—“You have to be willing to walk away.” If the other party is bluffing, you’ll find out fast.
Asher, it turned out, wasn’t bluffing. He stormed off down the street without looking back.
Cole got back in his truck and started the engine, watching the kid disappear around a corner. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and found a text from Charlotte.
I was happy to help.
Cole pulled out onto the street, aware that one little text shouldn’t change his entire mood, but also aware that it absolutely had.
14
As promised, Brinley set up a meeting for the volunteers, and also as promised, Charlotte agreed to come.
She hadn’t heard a word from Connor about his plans for the dance studio, but the more time she spent in Harbor Pointe, the more she wanted to put down roots. She’d even spotted an adorable little cottage for sale on her run yesterday and had spent the last three miles crunching numbers in her head of what she thought she could afford.
She’d saved enough for a nice down payment and then some. One benefit of not having a social life—she didn’t spend much money.
Not that she was in a hurry to move out of Lucy’s place. Quite the opposite, if she was honest. She liked having a roommate. She liked having friends.
“This recital is a great idea, Char,” Lucy said from behind the steering wheel of her VW bug. “That’s not a good nickname. I’ll keep working on it.”
Charlotte smiled. She’d never had a nickname before.
They were headed toward the meeting at the dance studio, and Charlotte was thankful for the company. Ever since Cole had sent her that text yesterday, she’d struggled to keep her mind from wandering back into fantasy territory. It was embarrassing how much she thought about him, how she watched for him around town when she was running errands or working out.
That, she would keep to herself, no matter how much she liked her new friend.
“I’m really hoping Connor will sell me the studio,” Charlotte said.
“He’d be crazy not to.” Lucy pulled into a parking space—without hitting another car, Charlotte noticed—and shut off the engine.
Inside, Charlotte surveyed the group. She recognized Brinley, who was sitting near the front and chatting with two other women, and Lucy’s friend Quinn, but nobody else.
At Quinn’s side was a very handsome man, and judging by the way he stuck close to her, Charlotte deduced that he must be Quinn’s Olympian. Charlotte stared at the way the man watched Quinn while she spoke to a shorter, older woman. He looked completely smitten.
Nobody had ever looked at Charlotte like that. Did Quinn know how lucky she was?