Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)

“I’ll get it done.”

“You damn right you will. That’s why I brought in some help.” He motions behind him, and to my surprise, Chip Holt steps forward. “Chip’s going to serve as an assistant quarterback coach this year. You did good last year, but we need more leadership in the locker room and Chip’s just the guy to do it.”

Chip’s all-American face smiles at me from over Coach’s shoulder. After I won the Super Bowl, Chip got traded three times before announcing his retirement. I didn’t know where he went after that. It’s a tad awkward to face the guy I replaced, but probably worse for him. I won the big one and he didn’t. For that reason, I suppress my protests and hold out my hand, determined to be welcoming for the sake of the team. “Nice to have you back,” I lie.

He shakes it hard—almost too hard, as if he’s trying to prove something. “My team looks good this year.”

“Your team?” I arch an eyebrow.

Coach laughs. “Old habits die hard, right?” He pats Chip across the back. “It’s good to have you back, Holt. You can help whip these young ones into shape so we can repeat.”

“Absolutely,” Chip agrees. He finger guns my shoulder. “I noticed that when you were dropping back, you gave a shoulder twitch before you threw the slant route. Try to get rid of those tells or the defense will be crushing both you and your receiver.”

“Didn’t realize.”

“I’ll send you some film.”

“Thanks.”

“Or I can bring it over,” he offers.

I think about who’s home tonight. Probably Charlie, unless she’s out with Reese and/or Lainey.

“Look, man, I’m not trying to step on any toes. Like Coach said, we’re all in this together.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Come on over.”

“And over is where?”

I give him the address to my condo.

“You there alone?” He quirks an eyebrow up.

A trickle of sweat rolls down my spine, and I shift restlessly. What’s with the twenty questions? I want to shower and hit the road, but Coach is standing five feet away grinning like the Joker, so I’ve got to deal. “I live with a friend.”

“You still hooking up with that trust fund girl?”

I sigh. No guy ever seems to believe that I view Charlotte as my sister, not a bangable ass. “Never hooked up with her in the first place. She’s just a friend.”

Chip smirks and slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I got those friends too.”

“Nah man, she’s like my sister. I’m more interested in her actual friend,” I find myself confessing.

“Who’s that?”

“Lainey. Maybe you know her? She used to wait tables over at Stacks and now is managing it? About so high.” I raise my hand to my collarbone. “Brown hair.” Hot as sin.

He rears back. “What the fuck!” he nearly shouts. “I thought she was gone.”

I lean back in mild surprise at his overreaction. Had the two of them had something? There’s a tickle at the back of my memory. I try to think back. “Charlie ran into her down in San Antonio and convinced Lainey to come back and run Stacks.”

“No fucking way,” he repeats.

“Yeah. It’s nice now. There’s good food. The floor’s clean. The tables aren’t sticky. I don’t have to drink warm beer.”

“Jesus. Stay away from that dumb bitch. She’s a pussy trap. The eighteen years kind of pussy trap. Good thing I came back, Coach.”

Coach bobs his head like a doll.

I bristle in annoyance. “Lainey’s not like that. She’s hardworking—”

“Got a kid, don’t she?” Chip interrupts.

“So?”

“So, she tell you who the baby daddy is?”

“No.” Lainey is very tight-lipped about that, and given that the dickwad hasn’t once come around in the year I’ve known her and Cassidy, I can see why. “Guy’s an asshole. Total deadbeat.”

Chip rolls his eyes. “Not everyone wants to be hooked for life to a chick who pokes needles in a condom.”

“I didn’t know Lainey when she was eighteen, but I highly doubt she sabotaged a guy’s condom. Raising a kid by herself hasn’t been easy.” I shrug out of Chip’s grasp and start toward the makeshift training camp locker room. His words are making my blood boil, and clocking my new quarterback coach isn’t the way I want to launch my first full year as starter for the Mustangs.

He trails behind, still prattling on. “Is that the line she’s selling to you? Because I wondered how she got her hooks into the trust fund babe the last time she was here.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree on this, ’kay?” My throat hurts from swallowing all my irritation. As it is, I think I’m going to have to go to the dentist and get caps put on, because if I stand here talking to Chip another minute, I’m going to grind my teeth to dust.

When I get home, Charlie is in the kitchen preparing a pitcher of margaritas. I look at the table set for four, the tequila and limes, with mixed feelings. What if Chip mouths off while Lainey is here? I’ll probably pour the pitcher over his head and shove the limes in his mouth. That’d go over well with my coach.