better than the last one. Reese might have put on a smile while she berated him, but Ryder knew Gia caught on to their distance and the way they ignored each other, a fact that was confirmed when he spotted the two flags at the end of the field. Glenn flew right next to Noble and lines of kids waiting for their shots on each had already formed. Gia, it seemed, was determined Reese and Ryder would work together and get along while they did.
Reese stood in front of her flag, smile wide, brilliant, her hair down around her shoulders, the bangs pinned back as a small army of Wilkens’ players, all female this year, hovered around her. The girls seemed to have question after question, none of which Reese seemed able to answer. She’d open her mouth, start to speak, but then another excited little player would interrupt, tugging on the fitted tee or at the waistband of her jeans to get her attention.
Ryder thought of rescuing her. He even took three steps toward her, but then Reese held up her hands, quieting the small players before she had them all sit, those small girls forming a circle around the Steamers’ new placekicker.
“Now,” Reese said, attention on the small faces that watched her intently. “Let’s talk about what it takes to be a good kicker.”
They listened. The girls seemed to utterly absorb every word Reese uttered. Ryder moved to his flag, motioning for his kids to organize, and shot her a smile. It was a cordial, friendly gesture that he hoped she knew was some small peace offering. He wouldn’t be shouting at her today.
He watched her between the drills and exercises he put his players through. A side-eye view told Ryder that his kicker was handling herself well. She immediately got the girls lined up and showed them how to kick hard and low and fast. There were some awed, amazed gasps from the girls, even more from the other kids around them, and pretty soon, Ryder had to pull back a few of his players from Reese’s demonstration. When that didn’t work, he set up his runners and QBs next to Reese’s girls and they double-teamed, something he knew would probably keep Gia from bitching at them.
Reese and her kids worked in pairs, running, kicking as Ryder’s kids ran for passes and threw to their teammates near the end zone.
“You’re good at this,” he told her, earning a shrug and a wave of the hand he guessed meant she thought her ability was no big deal.
“Learned from the best,” she told him, and he nodded in agreement that her father had been the best coach he’d ever had.
The complementary practices didn’t bother him. Neither did the unofficial racing that Ryder’s kids and Reese’s came up with while they moved over the field. What did bother him was when a few of his QBs gravitated toward Reese’s group, lining up to kick the ball. He tried not to feel too betrayed when Jack joined them.
He couldn’t blame the kids. Reese was engaging. She was animated, and, Ryder guessed, she was an anomaly that everyone wanted to see. Maybe they thought of her as this new, shiny toy the Steamers were testing out. Maybe they imagined they could learn the basics and then improve with her guiding them.
Ryder hadn’t been able to forget about that Sunday afternoon in the gym. He told himself it meant nothing, was nothing, because Reese was nothing at all to him. But then a flash of emotion swirled and taunted Ryder. He’d walked into his kitchen that night and swore he smelled the peach-sweet scent of her. He imagined her with him, working and training, but then the second it entered his mind, he squashed it.
There was too much risk involved in wanting her. There were too many injuries to his heart from the past they shared, and Ryder was convinced no one or nothing was worth risking it further.
Not even the woman surrounded by awed, open kids.
“Good,” Reese said, patting a young girl with pigtail braids on the shoulder as she demonstrated a kick. “You just landed a prime spot on my team.”
“Don’t play favorites,” Ryder whispered to her, stepping close so he couldn’t be overheard.
“Me?” she asked, eyes wide. She looked back at her group and frowned. “You think they think I’m—”
“I’m messing with you, Noble,” Ryder said, earning an eye roll for the admission.
“Yeah,” she answered, walking away before he glanced