Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) (26 page)

“And here they are. That tall drink of water is my nephew, Thomas. And this… this one here who apparently is
sleeping
for fuck’s sake, is your new partner.”

Kat’s daydream spiraled loose, and she blinked. Gary stood in front of her on court one, a young woman beside him. She looked to be eighteen, if that, and had a tanned complexion that indicated a Hispanic heritage.

“Hi.” She held out a hand to the girl whose eyes widened. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you.”

So young.

“This is Talia Woods. She needs more experience. You’re going to give it to her.”

Kat narrowed her eyes at Gary. “What am I, a nanny?”

“I’m twenty-two,” Talia shot back, though Kat’s barb hadn’t been meant for her to begin with. “I don’t need a nanny, I need a partner.”

“How are your dance moves?”

Talia rolled her eyes. “I’m a Latina. We’ve always got moves.”

Kat grinned at Gary. “She’ll do.”

K
at sat
beside Michael on the platform, looking out on all the hopeful young players on the field. They were sitting crisscross applesauce, their expressions full of eagerness and hope. A few even leaned forward, waiting with bated breath for the wisdom they were about to receive.

Remove the equipment and cleats, and it could have been a very tall group of kindergarteners.

Michael leaned toward her as the final group of ten, led by their camp coach, Chris Minikowski, sat in the back and were settled. “Is it my imagination or are they younger every year?”

Kat smiled softly and patted his knee. “I hate to tell you, babe, but we’re getting older. They’re the same age.”

He groaned. “Probably a good thing we’re out of the game. Who can compete with that much energy?”

She grinned at that. They’d both retired at the end of the last season. Him with much fanfare, her with very little. But it suited them both just fine. Besides, they had other projects to focus on now.

She rubbed her stomach. It shocked her how fast they’d gotten pregnant. They had decided to wait until she was fully out of competing before trying, but she hadn’t thought it would happen weeks after her final tournament. The fact that she’d found out this morning had been a fluke but a wonderful one. She couldn’t be more than four weeks along, total.

She still hadn’t told Michael. She’d wait until camp week was over. This was the third year, and she knew from experience it was always such an exhausting, demanding time for Michael. She didn’t want the news of the baby to overshadow his elation in the event or vice versa.

In the end, it had been shockingly easy to walk away from her career in professional tennis. The years of worry and stress, the fear of not making enough, of losing money traveling to this tournament or that… it had worn on her. The added pressure of being “on” with her persona had grown weary. And while she’d loved playing with Talia the last few years, and money had ceased being an issue, her heart was no longer on the court. Talia had gone on to compete as a singles player and was kicking some ass, taking some names. Kat still practiced with her, keeping her skills sharp. She still coached, still gave privates at the tennis center with Gary. But the competition, she now left that to those with the stomach for it.

Michael had gone out on top, with several other Bobcats, retiring after a Super Bowl win. Their first in, well, far too long, according to many. It was elating to watch those who had played for the team for years—some close to a decade—walk away on that highest of high notes. She’d never seen so many large men cry. It was as humbling as it was humorous.

“You ready for your part?” Michael stood, and the few campers who had been talking quickly hushed. She nodded, inwardly grinning. He loved this, so very much. His experience mentoring had all been leading up to this, where he could catch the kids even younger, stop them so the worst of the mistakes could be headed off at the pass.

And the boys… She did grin now as they all leaned forward, ready to listen. Ready to hang on every word he spoke. They adored him. Worshiped him.

“You’ll be listening to my wife next,” Michael began as he gestured toward where Kat sat. A singularly cocky teen wolf whistled. He gave the crowd a knowing smile. “Yeah, that’s her. You’re about four years too late, kid. I saw her first.”

They all laughed.

“She’s still a kickass tennis player, but now she coaches and travels around the country talking to college and pro teams about social media and keeping your cool online. She’s got a little experience in that area.”

There was silence while they soaked that in. Many may have been too young to even know about the sex tape. That was fine with her.

“But she’s also got some fantastic tips on how to handle things, from Internet trolls to trash-talking opponents and even local media. Listen up boys, because she’s been through the trenches and she’s still here to talk about it. So with that intro, I give you Kat Kelly-Lambert.”

The boys applauded, and a few gave some enthusiastic hoots and whoops. Kat stood, smoothed down her Lambert Camp shirt, and walked toward Michael. Just as he handed her the mic, he gave her a quick pat on the ass and whispered, “Knock ’em dead.”

Kat just shook her head as she faced a group of young men who prayed to one day have careers like her husband had. Thought about the new generation she was currently carrying. Looked back at her husband, who gave her an encouraging nod and wink.

And found the courage to tell her story one more time.

K
risten Keplar tapped
one hand on the desk, debating whether to leave early.
Early
in the off months between seasons meant leaving at four instead of five, which she’d been given authorization to do. The entire office staff had. It never set right, if there was something to accomplish, to take off before five. But there was nothing pressing on her desk, so…

Her son Isaac wasn’t home, so nobody was waiting for her to cook dinner. He’d gorge out on movie popcorn and soda and pick at anything she slaved over anyway. Maybe…

“Hey.”

She jolted and shrieked, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m so, so…” she started, swiveling in her chair and finding Clayton Barnes standing beside her desk. “Sorry,” she finished on a mumble. “You startled me.”

“Clearly.” His lips tilted up in a small smile, which only made him even more handsome than he already was. Damn the man. “My bad. I bet you’re fun at horror movies.”

“Wouldn’t know, I refuse to go,” she said primly, inwardly wincing at her cold tone. What was it about this man that made her throw up the defenses so fast? “What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?”

“You can stop calling me that, like I asked you to last time, to start with.”

She nodded once. Each coach had their own preferences. “Coach Barnes, then.”

“Clay.”

“Coach Barnes,” she said firmly. She was a young—fine, young
ish
—woman in a male-dominated world. She let her professionalism and performance speak for her.

He sighed, and she could tell she’d annoyed him. But if her being professional and dignified in the workplace annoyed him, he’d just have to find a straw and suck it up.

“I met your son, Isaac, back in the offices.”

That gave her pause. “Oh.” Then because her mind began spinning, “Did he say something inappropriate?”

The coach laughed at that. “No, not at all. He was struggling with a bookshelf, I happened to be nearby and helped him out.”

“Maybe Coach Jordan should have split the twenty bucks with you,” she said, inwardly pleased when he chuckled again. It highlighted that he had laugh lines by the corners of his eyes. She didn’t know his age—refused to check the HR files, though she could have—but she’d guess he was early to midforties. Not married from both the lack of a ring and word around the office. She had no clue if he had children, but…

Wait, why was she analyzing the man? She wasn’t looking for a date. Especially not from
him
. He was ruthless on the field. Watching him coach the players scared her. She recognized all types of coaching, had seen her son experience most of them… There was just something about him that made her shiver when she watched his leadership style.

But when he smiled… okay, fine. Off the field, the man was charming.

“He seems like a good kid, your son.”

That warmed her toward him almost instantly. “Isaac’s fantastic. I can hardly take any credit there, actually. He just sort of came out of the womb responsible and easygoing.”

“He asked me to be his travel baseball coach.”

That… made her sit back and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, he did what?”

“Hey, easy.” He crouched down on the balls of his feet, one hand on the arm of her chair, blocking her in.

“I’m… fine,” she said, her voice unsteady—mostly due to the proximity of his body and how deeply he was staring into her eyes.

“You went white as a sheet for a second.” His dark blue eyes bore holes through her. “Either your blood sugar bottomed out, or you’re not a fan of me coaching your son.”

“What? That’s not true,” she denied, but the words were forced through a tight throat and came out cartoonish and squeaky. Clearing her throat, Kristen tried again. “Sorry, that’s not… true. I can’t believe he asked you. That was so… exactly something he would do,” she finished on a sigh. “I’m sorry, I hope you were firm when you said no, or else he’ll come back again. He’s tenacious. A quality I usually find endearing, unless it’s being used against me.”

“I said I’d think about it.”

That had her sitting back in her chair again. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” Something sparkled in his eyes… mischief? It added an element of good humor to the handsomeness she was finding more and more attractive by the moment.

Terrible idea, Kristen. Horrible. The worst.

“The hours are terrible,” she started, “you’re outside all the time. Some of the kids are real shits. Believe me, they’re not all Isaacs,” she added with a shudder. No exaggeration there. Her son and his best friend-slash-teammate were two sweethearts. But so many of the others already believed they were God’s gift to baseball and acted accordingly.

“Not to mention the parents, who are the reason most of those kids are shits.”

“Parents are definitely one thing I don’t have to deal with in the NFL,” he admitted, chuckling a bit. “But it’s the off-season. I’ve got some time, and you know our organization is always pressing community service. It’d be a good example to set for the players.”

How did someone argue with an attitude of servitude? “There’s travel,” she said weakly.

“Being a travel team, I suspected,” he said dryly.

“Could you…” She cleared her throat and waved a hand between them. “Could you maybe step back? It’s hard talking like this.”

“Huh?” He glanced between them, then shook his head, almost as if he had forgotten he’d been crouching down. As he stood, Kristen smoothed down her skirt and stood herself. In her heels, she was nearly eye level with him. More even playing field.

The left side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Well, I think you’ve sealed the deal for me.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m taking the job.”

J
eanette spends
her days surrounded by hunky alpha male heroes… at least in her mind. As the author of seventeen (and counting) contemporary romance novels, she spends more time than she would like to admit thinking about what sexy, make believe men would be doing at any given moment.

I
n real life
she's a one-hero kind of woman, lucky to snare her own hero in her husband. When she's not chasing her daughter or their lovable-but-stupid Goldendoodle around the house, she's deep in her own fictional world, building another love story. Finally living the civilian life after many years being moved via the Marine Corps, Jeanette and her family live across the river from St. Louis.

To connect with Jeanette:

• @kjmurraybooks
  
• jeanettemurraybooks