The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,34
up one of the menus Tallulah had left behind and flipped it open. “So you haven’t ordered yet?”
“No.” She grabbed the other menu and did the same. At least it gave her something to do until the waitress came to take their order.
“I could eat everything on here,” he said with his usual good humor.
“I’m sure Tallulah would be glad to let you.”
“I’m always too nervous to eat before a game.”
“Still? I would think that wouldn’t be so bad now that you’re a coach and not a player.”
“Yeah, you’d think so, but it’s worse.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.” She hadn’t thought about the pressure he would be under. She’d been too busy worrying about the stress his presence placed on her.
He shrugged. “Goes with the job.”
“I’m surprised you came back.”
He set the menu down and turned to look at her. “Why does that surprise you?”
“Because you could go anywhere, do anything. Be anything.” She tried not to let her envy show.
He shrugged. “I don’t think the rest of the world shares your opinion.”
“You were a college football star and played in the NFL. I would’ve thought the offers came pouring in.”
He shook his head. “Washed-up pro football players are a dime a dozen, Camille.”
“But coaching opportunities—”
“Aren’t as plentiful for men of color,” he said in a dry tone. “Even with a college degree. There’s a lot of competition, and I’m young. I was lucky to get this job. I know guys I used to play with who are driving cabs and tending bar.”
“I wondered why you were available after the start of the season.”
“Coach Stults called me when he decided to retire. I’d given up on finding a coaching job this year.”
Camille sipped the ice water the waitress had brought, unsure what to say. Here she’d been assuming that he had just kept right on living a charmed life, even after his injury. Surely he’d made enough as a pro player that he didn’t need to worry about money. At least not for a while.
“You did a great job tonight,” she said. “Coach Stults made a good decision asking you to take over.”
He didn’t smile, but she could see from the light in his eyes how much her compliment pleased him. “I have to do a better job of getting them ready next week. My quarterback was so distracted tonight, I thought he might start running for the wrong end zone.”
Camille smiled. “I think what was bothering him might have been sitting in the stands.”
“Or cheering on the sideline?” He winked at her. “I remember how distracted I used to get. Guess I’ll have to cut him some slack.”
Camille blushed and then was glad she’d taken a booth in the back where the lighting was a bit dimmer. “Do you know who the distraction girl is?” Hannah might have a crush on the quarterback, but Camille wondered whether the star athlete returned her feelings.
Dante laughed. “I hope it’s the one I saw him kissing on the sidewalk on my way over here.”
Camille was intrigued. “What did she look like? Maybe I can tell you who it is.”
“Some blond freshman.”
“Probably a pompom girl.” Poor Hannah.
He shook his head. “No. This was definitely not a pom squad girl. Dirty blond, not those fake streaks. Didn’t seem like the groupie type.”
Could it have been Hannah? “I think I may know who your mystery girl is.”
“And is she going to ruin my season?”
Camille smiled. “Not on purpose. I doubt she cares much about football.” She paused. “I’m just… surprised a quarterback would look at her twice.”
Their food arrived, and the waitress slid the plates in front of them.
“Thank you,” Dante said to the young woman. He looked at Camille. “Maybe you should tell me her name. So I’ll know who to be on the lookout for.”
“Hannah Simmons. Actually, I know her pretty well. She’s in the Knit Lit Society with me.”
“The what?”
“My book club. We’re all knitters.”
“Camille St. Clair in a book club.” He took a bite of his steak. “My, my. Will wonders never cease.”
“Hey.” She shoved him, just a little. “I have a brain. Just because you never noticed anything but my cheerleading uniform…”
“Is there going to be a pop quiz when I take you home?” he teased. “I might need to study.” He leaned toward her. “And I might need a tutor.”
He was smiling, but the intensity of his gaze meant he was completely serious too. At least he was completely serious about Camille.