Beauty and the Baller

Lois sucks down a shot of her inhaler, then murmurs a heartfelt thank-you.

I head to the cruiser with the sheriff. The boys file out as I put my hands on my hips and give them a glare.

They start with a rush of apologies—

“No. This is unacceptable. You promised me,” I say, cutting them off. “Huddersfield almost got what they wanted: you in trouble.”

They bow their heads and nod. “Yes, sir.”

I heave out an exhale. “Every day next week. Five a.m. Be dressed and on the field for running. Do you think I want to get up that early? I don’t. You won’t be playing Friday night against Collinwood. You’re out. You’ll spend the rest of the week working with your backups. And if we lose against them, that might ruin our whole season. I expect commitment. I expect trust. I expect integrity. I expect heart. Are you showing it to me?”

Their faces fall as they shake their heads. “No, sir.”

“Do you want to win it all or not?”

“We do,” they shout.

“Then why did you come tonight?” I call. “It was reckless. You can’t be reckless in football, boys! Every moment counts! Every decision you make can affect your team!”

“It was stupid, sir. We see that now,” Toby murmurs, and I focus on him.

“I left you working on homework, and now this?” It stings. I expected more from him.

“I’m sorry,” Toby says, his head down.

Bruno raises his hand. “It was my idea, Coach. I talked them into it.”

“And you’re all going to pay the price,” I say.

After I’m done, the sheriff stands next to me and goes into a lecture about theft. Once the boys look suitably chastised, he turns to me and points at the goat. “I’m not putting that thing in my cruiser. It’s up to you how you get it back to the stadium without getting caught.”

“I can take him back,” Bruno says.

I glare at him. “Get your butt in your truck.”

Lois grabs Milo by the sleeve and drags him to her Mercedes. “I’ve got this one.” She opens the passenger door and shoves him in the back seat. “Your mama is gonna whop you,” she tells him.

“She doesn’t do that,” Milo calls as Skeeter sits in the front of her car.

“She should!” Lois snaps as she shuts the door. She walks around to her side, gets in, and throws gravel as she pulls away.

Toby and Bruno get back in his truck.

“Straight home,” I tell them. “I’m calling your parents first thing tomorrow morning.”

With grim faces, they drive away.

When I flip around, Sabine and Nova are loading the goat in the back seat of my Suburban.

I close my eyes and lift my hands up to the sky. “Only in Texas.”

I get in the car and sit, stewing for several moments. My hands twist on the steering wheel, and I exhale, letting the anger ebb as I lay my head back on my seat and stare at Nova. “There’s a live goat wearing a jersey in my car.”

Her lips curl, merriment in her eyes. “Things you never thought you’d say.”

“This whole thing might be funny in a few days, but I’d never let them know that. Thank you for saving us from the sheriff.”

“You’re welcome. I did agree to meet him for lunch.”

I twist in my seat. “No way. He asked?”

She pops her lips. “Yep.”

“Do you want to?”

“I like Jimmy. We’ll catch up and have a great time.”

I frown. “You don’t have to go. I mean . . . because you feel like you have to.”

“I want to. He’s a friend.”

I pause. “Am I?” I want us to be.

The goat makes a strange chuffing sound, and she doesn’t reply but turns to look in the back seat.

I look out the windshield, my head racing back to us on the floor in my office. That was a whole lot more than friendship, that delicious tension and chemistry, the taste of her nipples . . .

No.

No.

I need to stop these thoughts.

Sabine giggles as the goat pokes his head up to the front. He licks my hand, and I grimace.

“Do we have to give him back?” she says.

“Yes,” Nova and I say at the same time.

“I love his little horns. And he’s silky. Can we get a goat? Pretty please.”

“Goats are farming animals,” Nova says to her. “I like house animals.”

“This one lives in a cage,” she counters. “We need to save it from a life behind bars.” The goat sits on Sabine’s lap. “Look, he’s trained. I said sit, and he sat. I could train ours to get the mail or get beer out of the fridge.”

“Ten years before you can drink, and you didn’t say sit; he just sat,” Nova grouses.

“Wow. I must be twenty-five for sex and alcohol. Nice joke,” Sabine says.

“Not a joke,” Nova replies tartly.

I laugh as I pull out on the road. “Okay, girls, any ideas on how to sneak this goat back in?”