heart really began to race. “But only for the right woman.”
“Of course,” I whispered.
“Someone who would always respect what I had with Connie. My past …”
“Right,” I said, nodding.
“Even better if this woman actually knew Connie,” he said, leaning toward me, his voice lowered. “She has to be intelligent. Strong. With some gumption.”
“Of course,” I said, wondering if I had gumption. At this moment, I wasn’t so sure.
“And she definitely has to understand this coaching thing … the game of football … She has to love football. Has to.”
“Right,” I said, hypnotized by his words and his eyes and the sound of his voice. “What about physically? Do you have a type?”
“Not really,” he said. “But I like brown hair. Reddish brown is nice. What do they call that—auburn?” He looked right at my hair as my vision blurred.
“But the hair is just a bonus. A two-point conversion if you will.”
I tried to speak, but couldn’t.
He stared right into my eyes and said, “You know anyone who fits the bill?”
“I might,” I managed to whisper.
“Oh?” he said with as much charm as a man could possibly have without being too charming. “You might?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Well, let me know … Because short of that woman, the one I just described … I’d rather be alone … Just sitting here, alone, watching football.”
He gave me a slow smile, staring even deeper into my eyes. So deep that I suddenly knew. Almost for sure. I held his gaze, paralyzed with fear, excitement, utter shock. Never in a million years had I seen this coming.
“Shea?”
“Yes?” I said, finally breathing, wondering if I’d heard him wrong. If it were only wishful thinking.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, took a breath, and said, “So … what do you think Lucy and Lawton would say? If you found this … woman?”
Waiting for his answer, I pushed Ryan from my mind, telling myself that I hadn’t crossed any lines. This was a theoretical conversation. That’s all.
“Lawton would be okay … I think … But Lucy? … I don’t know. That might be a problem … Then again, she wants me to be happy.”
“Of course she does,” I said. “Do you think … you can be? Happy again?”
“I think so … I hope so.”
“I hope so, too, Coach,” I said, wondering if you could faint from attraction.
I could hear in the background that someone had just scored, but neither of us looked toward the television. “But you know what, Shea?”
He rarely used my name, and it caught me off guard. “What, Coach?”
“I’m already happy. Right here. Right now.”
I smiled and said, “Well, guess what?”
“What’s that?”
“I am, too,” I said.
“Well, good,” he said as we both turned back to watch the game.
The rest of the night was all about football, both of us pretending that we hadn’t had the conversation in which he told me, more or less, that my crush was not one-sided after all.
Twenty-six
The first two times I said I should go, he protested, but just after midnight, when I caught him stifling a yawn, I got up and said it really was time. He walked me back to the garage door and gave me a hug, then a kiss. It was only a friendly peck on the cheek, but still significant, since it was the first ever, at least since I was about ten. I floated home, so dazed that I didn’t realize that I had left my purse in his kitchen until the following morning. I waited until nine, in case he was sleeping, then dialed the only number in the world I knew by heart other than my own.
“Yep, you left your pocketbook,” he said before I could ask.
“Pocketbook?” I said, mocking his old-fashioned terminology.
“Yes. You’re lucky you didn’t get pulled over. How would you have explained that one?”
“Easy. I’d tell the police that you had my license. Drop your name … Works every time in this town.”
“Yeah, we already went down that road once,” he said, referring to my teenage drunk-driving episode. “Remember?”
I shuddered at the memory. “God, you scared me that night. Worse than the cops.”
“That was the idea,” he said.
“You know, I vowed that night …” I started, my voice trailing off.
“What did you vow?” he said.
“Never to let you down again.”
“And you haven’t,” he said. “So. You gonna come get this thing or what?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be right over to get my pocketbook.”
A quick shower later, I was headed back over to Coach’s in jeans, an old Cotton Bowl hoodie, and a