Teacher's Pet

I studied the team for a moment, watching how they interacted and how they moved as they warmed up. They all looked to be in good shape, and most seemed to just be going through the motions. Not that you would expect anything more from a warm-up team.

Then, my eyes reached a player at the edge of the court. Her back was to me, but she stood out. Her form was flawless and her hustle was clearly more intense than the rest of the team. She reminded me of myself. All in, all the time. One hundred percent.

When she turned around, I had to catch my breath. She was stunning. I didn't know if it was her honey-colored eyes or wavy, chestnut hair. But when she smiled at her teammate, she took my breath away all over again.

I'd gotten used to the bleached, fake, surgically-

enhanced, and plastic-pumped “beauty” in Los Angeles, but hers was a natural beauty, classic almost. This girl had your old-fashioned, girl-next-door kind of a look to her – a look I hadn't seen in years.

I jolted myself out of my little trance. Stop it, Wade. I should not have been staring at her, especially since I was the coach and she was a student who was at least a decade, or more, younger than me. I had to remind myself that I was here to do a job, not get caught up in admiring the view.

I cleared my throat as I took a few steps closer to the court and prepared to speak.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” I waited until they had all turned to face me. “As you may have guessed, I'm your new coach, Wade Vinson. You can call me Coach Vinson or Mr. Vinson. I won’t be asking for anything outrageous from you ladies. I’ve been where you are, so I know what should be expected.

“What I will ask for is total commitment out there on the court. If I'm going to take this team to the top, I'm going to need each of you to do everything I tell you, to the absolute letter, without complaining or whining or asking questions. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Coach Vinson,” came the reply spoke in unison. There were a few giggles, but mostly the girls seemed as serious about this as I was. That was good.

“All right, since today is my first day and I don't know any of you, I just want you each to introduce yourselves to me. Let’s all go over to the bleachers, and you can each take a turn to stand up, tell me your name and where you're from, and what you're majoring in here at Florida State. After that, we'll play a few games so I can see you in action and see who's really got what it takes to be in the starting lineup. So go on, get a move on.”

The girls did as I said and sat in two neat rows on the bottom bleachers. I guessed Coach Hatting had whipped them into shape over the past few weeks; I was grateful he had at least taken care of one issue for me.

I quickly took out the list of names and scanned over it, making sure I wouldn't miss the players Coach Hatting pointed out – for both good and bad reasons.

The first girl who stood up was a blonde knockout, one who would totally look at home in any L.A. A-list party, and therefore, one I felt a little repelled by. I didn't want to be reminded too much of those times. She was even wearing a shit-ton of makeup…for a volleyball practice. Really? Come on.

“Hi, Coach,” she said, smiling flirtatiously and batting her eyes.

Oh, this was just great. Already someone trying to win me over with what she surely thought was her feminine charm.

“I'm Tammy McRae.”

Ahhh. I remembered that name from the list. She was one of the players whose parents had been slipping the coach a little something on the side. Well, bribing the coach, to be more accurate.

“I'm 21 years old, and I'm from Los Angeles. I'm majoring in acting and drama. And, I must say, I feel so, so privileged to be coached by a volleyball legend like you,” she added, giving me a lustful gaze.

Great, just great – a wannabe starlet. I didn’t need any more of those in my life.

I listened to the several of the girls as they introduced themselves. More than a few of them had cushy majors and gave me that flirty smile I was hoping to avoid. I could only hope they could be professional and take their position on the team seriously.

Finally, though, the girl who had caught my eye – and taken my breath away – stood up and introduced herself.

“Hi, Coach Vinson,” she said in a soft, but confident tone. “My name is Eryn Barnett. I'm 21 years old, and I'm majoring in computer programming.”

Interesting. It seemed that this girl had brains as well as beauty. And, I immediately recognized her name as the one on Coach Hatting’s watch list.

However, her attitude was nothing like the majority of the others who had gone before her. The way she looked at me came across as if she didn't want to talk to me, at all. Still, I couldn't help but stare at her as she spoke. I caught myself doing so and immediately blushed, hoping she or none of the other girls had noticed.

She smiled a tight-lipped smile and sat down abruptly.

If she was one Hatting said had talent, there was only one way to find out about that: get her out there on the court and play. I made a few notes on my chart as the remaining players made their introductions.

“All right, girls,” I said, “let's get you into two teams, and then you can show me what you've got.”

I arranged them into two teams and let them go at it while I watched carefully and took notes. Hatting was right: there were a few stellar players who seemed to have been unfairly excluded from the previous starting lineup, most likely because they hadn't paid off the coach.

And chief among these was Eryn Barnett. My God, she could play – she had incredible talent.