She nods a little. “That’s a good point.”
“All these outsiders are going to swamp us little city folk.”
“I suspect you can take it.”
“Yeah, you’re not wrong.” I grin at her. “Listen, come to me after practice from now on, after you work the guys. Standing invitation, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Thanks for all your hard work, Leah.” I push off the wall.
“You too, Coach.”
“Cole.”
“Cole,” she says, calling after me as I walk away.
I wave at her, grinning to myself. Maybe I’m stupid, maybe I’m making a big mistake.
I can’t help myself. There’s something about that girl.
Besides, I need the help.
My damn leg is killing me, and I can’t afford that distraction. I have a team to run.
I head toward the field, where I’m sure Robby is waiting with clipboard in hand.3LeahIt’s a hot summer morning as I stand on the sidelines, watching the offense scrimmage with the defense.
“Throw the fucking ball!” Cole shouts, running onto the field. He grabs at Sean the quarterback, who’s wearing a bright red jersey that means he can’t be tackled.
I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, but Cole grabs him by the shoulder pads and they have some words. It’s heated, but it’s always heated.
This is what the closed portion of practice is always like. Cole shouts at the guys, gets in their faces… and they take it.
Running around like that must be bothering his leg, but if he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.
Tessa moves next to me, crossing her arms. She smiles when I look at her and I make a face: Coach being a dick again.
She laughs. I love her laugh. She has such straight, white teeth and beautiful milky-dark skin. Her hair’s natural, pulled back into a bun.
“He’s not that bad,” she says.
“I know, it’s just funny.”
“Right, like all football players are so stupid you have to scream in their face to get them to listen.”
“Right?” I say, laughing.
“It has to work, though. The last place I worked, the coach did the same thing.”
Tessa is nearly ten years older than me. She’s been working for NFL teams for a few years now and bounced between a few jobs before landing in Fargo.
“Really?” I ask.
“Oh, sure. All the coaches do it. Not all of them are as good at it as Coach Wood, though.”
I frown a little, watching as Cole pats Sean on the shoulder and the two guys laugh. He comes jogging off the field, blowing his whistle. The other coaches jump into action, setting up the next play while Cole settles himself back into his normal posture, legs spread, back straight, arms crossed, handsome face scowling in the sunlight.
“I guess I wouldn’t know. I mean, I love sports medicine, I just don’t love football.”
Tessa laughs and nudges me. “Heck, nobody here loves it. At least the support staff. It’s just a job.”
“Not for those guys, though?”
She shakes her head. “For the players and the coaches, it’s their life.”
I follow her gaze out to the field. The guys run another play, smashing into each other, and this time Sean throws the ball quickly, Felix catching it on a slanting run.
The whistle blows and they reset. For a second, I marvel at how big these guys are. They’re like freight trains lumbering all around, absolute giants. I don’t know how their knees aren’t constantly popping out under the strain of all that fat and muscle and padding.
“At least they all seem to like him,” I say, nodding at Cole again.
“They really do,” Tessa says, a hint of surprise in her tone. “Wasn’t like that at my last job.”
“Really? I figured everyone always sucked up to the coach.”
“Not at all. Some coaches just command more respect than others… and I think Coach Wood is one of those guys, you know?”
“There is definitely something about him.”
She grins at me, a twinkle in her eyes. “Yeah, definitely. Maybe it’s those pretty blue eyes.”
“Uhm, that’s not what I meant.”
“Uh huh, right. Like I don’t see you looking at him.”
I blush a little. If only she knew exactly how closely I was inspecting him. “He’s my boss.”
“Not really. Jamie is your boss.”
“He’s the boss of the team.”
She waves that away. “He’s hot. You can admit it.”
I grin at her. “No way. He’s like forty.”
“He’s exactly forty, and he looks damn good.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay, fine. He’s a handsome man, for forty.”
She gives me a look. “He’s hot for any age and you know it.”
“Okay, okay, fine. I admit it.”
“There you go. No reason to pretend like it’s not true. All the women around here know it.”
I glance around me. Professional football teams have an enormous staff. There are the coaches, the players themselves, plus the support staff that includes doctors, public relations people, trainers, and more.
And a big chunk of the people standing on the sideline are women. None of them are players, of course, and none of them are coaches. But the water people, the trainers, a lot of them are female.