Читать книгу The Long Shot - Ellen Hartman - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

SHE CALLED A team meeting after school. She was expecting Deacon later that day, but wasn’t going to tell the girls about him yet. For one thing, she still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to her proposal. The way he said yes so quickly was odd because she knew he’d been asked to help before and he’d always refused. Second, there was the little matter of her allowing him to believe he was coaching the boys. When he found out about the girls, would he even stay? She felt queasy when she let herself imagine that he might leave—once again, she’d painted herself into a corner with her tendency toward brinksmanship.

The most important reason she hadn’t told the team was that she didn’t want to risk having Ty find out the Basketball Brothers were coming and then doing something to either sabotage their work for her team or co-opt them for the boys’ team. She slipped the Fallons’ district paperwork through under the catchall bucket for volunteers in the mentoring program. They weren’t getting paid, so there was no requirement for her to consult with Ty about hiring them.

In the couple days since she and the brothers had spoken on the phone, the two Fallons had taken on a superhero-duo mystique in her mind. She would do her best not to refer to them out loud as the Basketball Brothers, and in return, they would rescue her program, save her sanity and help her put Ty Chambers and the boosters in their place.

Good thing Deacon Fallon was used to living up to high expectations.

Once the girls were gathered on the bleachers, she updated them about the budget cuts and then she told them about the bet. They were utterly silent for a few seconds. The only sound in the gym was the rhythmic pounding of a basketball; Max Wright was shooting alone at the other end of the court. He’d been cut from the boys’ team and she’d invited him to practice with her girls, where the team philosophy didn’t allow cuts. So far he hadn’t joined them. He showed up in the gym every afternoon, but kept to himself.

Before she finished outlining the terms of the bet, Iris and Tali were off the bleachers and heading for the door, Tali’s little brothers, Trey and Shawn, trailing after her.

“Stop,” Julia said. “Where are you going?”

Tali tightened her thumbs on the cords of the gym bag she had over her shoulders. “Look, Ms. Bradley, we suck. We lost every game last year. Doing this bet? It’s like we’re asking everyone to laugh at us.”

Iris nodded. “We appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s useless. Nobody at this school cares about anything except the boys’ team.”

“As I told you, I have no intention of letting them disband our team. You girls focus on having a fantastic year. I’ll manage the rest.”

“Fantastic? How? We don’t have one thing you need for a basketball team, including a coach who knows how to coach.” That was Miri. A senior, she’d been on the team since her freshman year. “Sorry, Coach.”

Julia would have to consult her records to be sure, but even without looking, she wouldn’t hesitate to bet Miri hadn’t scored a single point in any of her three previous years. Julia didn’t mention this.

“I’m more than aware of my deficiencies as a coach.”

Cora Turner snorted and Miri smiled at her knowingly.

“I believe I have found an assistant who is more than qualified to handle the basketball-specific parts of the job.” If he shows up, that is. If he stays.

“What parts of being a basketball coach aren’t basketball-specific?” Tali’s posture was challenging.

If Julia hadn’t been certain it would lead to more wrangling, she would have made a list, starting with letting Tali’s little brothers hang around practice every day after the elementary school got out so they weren’t home watching TV. Setting up movie night. Choosing the audio books they listened to on the bus. Making sure the uniforms arrived on time and fit, even if some of the girls weren’t exactly built for speed. Talking to the players. Giving structure to their days. Being there in case they wanted an adult to consult with—during her time at Milton more than one basketball player had come to her about things that mattered. She was necessary. The team was necessary. The only thing that had changed this year was that winning, God help them, was also necessary.

“You understand what our team is about, Tali. Responsibility, partnership, setting goals and meeting them. We’re just adding a resource with a basketball background to round things out.”

“You know a basketball coach?” Cora asked.

Tali snorted. “We don’t need a coach—we need a wizard.”

“You think Coach knows Harry Potter?”

“Maybe if you all practiced for real and didn’t spend so much time doing your nails and babysitting, you could actually get better without a wizard,” Max said. “You don’t entirely suck all the time.”

She hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped practicing and drifted over to listen. His blond hair was caught back in a ponytail and a few strands lay plastered against his neck with sweat.

“How would you know, Max?” Tali said. “Last I looked, you got cut from your tryouts.”

“I know more about basketball than any of you.”

“Too bad you’re not on our team, then. On account of you being a boy and all,” Tali retorted.

“Ms. Bradley said I can practice with you if I want to. I’m considering taking her up on it.”

Tali rolled her eyes. “Between you and our new wizard coaches, we’ll be all kinds of gifted this year.”

Julia walked the few steps across the gym so she was next to the girl. Tali, tall and slender, with deep brown eyes, had long, thick hair she refused to put into a ponytail for games. She’d come close to flunking remedial math during her first season on the team, but because she was rostered for a sport, her record was red-flagged early in the marking period and Julia had been able to get her into tutoring to prop her up. Now, starting her junior year, she was firmly in the middle of her grade-level math class. None of that was “basketball-specific,” either, but it was all important.

“You don’t take anything lying down and I respect that. If you hold on to your anger, then you can put it on the court. Can we stick with each other for one more season, all in, no matter what?”

She held her breath while hoping they would respond. Instead Cora nudged Miri, who dropped her backpack and promptly turned red with embarrassment. Tali straightened up and whispered, “Please tell me that’s my new basketball coach.”

Julia looked toward the door and there they were, the Basketball Brothers, tall and handsome and… She did a double take. Which one was Deacon?

The younger one on the left, with his skinny neck and rail-thin body, resembled the kid she remembered. Except that young guy wasn’t Deacon. She knew because his thick, inky hair was styled in an expensive, professionally messy mop that was certainly not done at home with clippers, and she knew for sure because he smiled at her and his grin was cocky and charming in a way Deacon’s never had been. When Deacon had been at Milton, he’d been wound so tight and been so focused on his sport she didn’t think he’d ever smiled. This kid, the younger brother, had obviously grown up in different circumstances.

So Deacon was the other one. The slightly shorter, but sweet-mother-of-grown-up-hotness-what-a-good-looking-guy one. His acne had disappeared; instead a shadow of dark beard roughened his chin. Dark blond layers of silky hair hit the back of his neck, scissoring out at the sides, and shorter layers lay in golden-brown lines across his forehead—completely erasing her memories of his clippered high school haircut. He wore glasses, which was a surprise, but the smart dark frames had a sexy edge and set off his deep blue eyes beautifully.

“Give me one minute,” she said to the girls as she hurried to meet her new assistants where they stood a few feet into the gym.

Because she was a bit breathless and trying to let her brain catch up with her eyes, she engaged the less intimidating one, Wes, first. “You don’t much resemble your brother.”

“Thank God for that,” he said. “I can’t afford plastic surgery at the moment.”

Reading nonverbal clues was an essential part of navigating the tense parent-child meetings she often facilitated. The expression Deacon shot Wes was clearly a command to shut the hell up and quit screwing around. She gave him credit for saying it silently.

“Ms. Bradley,” Deacon said, “this is my brother, Wes Fallon.”

Wes stuck out his hand and she shook it. When she half turned, Deacon had his hand out, too. She took it, and his handshake was warm and firm. Behind his glasses, his dark blue eyes were hard to read. Did he remember her? How did she look to him after all these years?

“We’re honored you asked us back to help with the team,” Deacon said.

“Well.” She was acutely aware of the girls waiting behind her. “We’re honored to have you.”

And wouldn’t the boosters love to be the ones doing the honoring here? she thought. When Ty and the rest of them found out, she would be in a world of trouble.

She couldn’t wait.

She’d been anticipating the Basketball Brothers, but clearly, she hadn’t taken into account their being ten years older than when she’d last seen them. Their entire lives had changed in that time. The orphans from the wrong side of the tracks in a town where the right side wasn’t very prosperous had grown into a pair of poised, well dressed, frankly impressive men.

Deacon had on a black dress shirt patterned in a light gray check and a pair of dark blue jeans. The way the jeans fit, trim and taut, showed that he had filled out from his gangly high school days. But any weight he’d added was hard muscle. The sleeves of his tucked-in shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off more lean muscle and slightly tanned skin dusted with light brown hair. She’d dated a drummer once who’d been a total screwup and had infuriated her by spending his rent money on beer, but he’d had the nicest arms and so she’d stuck with him for a month or two longer than she should have. Deacon’s arms were one hundred percent nicer than the drummer’s.

She hoped he would stay and coach, because she had a sudden need to see those arms shoot a basketball.

* * *

HE DIDN’T KNOW what he’d been expecting. Maybe that Ms. Bradley would still look like a teacher, albeit a hot one, to him. He definitely hadn’t anticipated the flash of attraction he’d felt as she hurried across the gym toward them, the hem of her skirt whipping around well-toned calves and then flipping up to give a glimpse of one smooth thigh.

“Dude.” Wes had poked him in the ribs, and whispered behind his hand. “She’s hot for an old chick.”

Deacon would have smacked his head had they been alone. Manners were important even in the face of hot chicks. In the gym, he had to settle for a disgusted glare.

Now she smiled at them, appearing a bit nervous, and asked, “Are you ready to meet the team?”

And then she swept her arm toward the kids gathered on the bleachers.

“Those are girls,” Deacon blurted.

“Nothing gets past him,” Wes said.

Julia didn’t smile. Her eyes were a light, clear gray-blue, and intense when she focused on him. She held him fixed in place when she responded, “That’s right. That’s my team.”

Even as he spoke, he knew he was being rude, but he was shocked. This wasn’t what he’d said yes to. “You told me you wanted us to coach the Tigers. I brought my brother here so he could work with the Tigers.”

Julia didn’t raise her voice or even change her expression, but he had the feeling she was pissed. Which was ridiculous. He was the one who’d been duped.

“You are here to coach the Tigers.” She pointed toward the group of girls on the other side of the gym. “Right there. Those are your Tigers.”

His Tigers.

Two of them were considerably closer to five foot than six. One of them outweighed him for sure. Not a single one of the ten girls appeared remotely interested in basketball. Especially not the one perched on a ball and wearing a skirt with tights and high-heeled shoes. She had a mirror out and some tiny silver tool in her hand. “What is she doing to her face?”

“They call that tweezing,” Wes said.

“Practice hasn’t started yet,” Julia said. “We were in a meeting. You’re early.”

She looked at him pointedly, but he wasn’t about to apologize for throwing off her schedule when she had just pulled a whopper of a bait and switch on him. Feeling foolish because he’d misinterpreted a situation was his worst nightmare.

“She’s wearing high heels. In the gym.” He thought about his hardwood court at home and what heels would do to the surface. He had nothing against the girls, but he had a lot of trouble with being manipulated, especially when the manipulator was affiliated with Milton sports.

“We don’t have uniforms yet.” She got right up close to him, standing between him and Wes, her back to the girls and her voice pitched so no one could overhear. “Look, Deacon. I fudged the truth. You made an assumption and I should have corrected you.” She edged even closer, more urgency in her voice now. “But you said you’d coach them and I couldn’t believe it. I was too thrilled, and I thought if I clarified, you might not come. You’re here now. Can’t you see they need help? I need to know right now. Will you coach them or not?”

He was about to say or not. Maybe not quite that snottily, but he was ready to walk away, when Wes spoke up.

“Sure we’ll coach them. We said we would. Right, Deacon? Fallons keep their word, especially to the team.”

Wes looked earnest. He had this thing he could do where he somehow transformed himself from a six-foot-four-inch man into a five-year-old kid whose balloon had just blown away.

“I don’t like it when you do that,” he muttered. The protest was a token one and he knew it. He’d been back in Milton High School for less than twenty minutes and he was already as firmly trapped by Wes’s needs and the expectations of the Milton sports program as he’d been in high school.

“What am I doing?”

“Making that face that looks like I kicked your puppy.”

“I’m not.”

Wes had the innocent act down so perfectly it didn’t even appear like an act. Julia probably thought he really was that innocent.

“Your brother’s performance aside,” Julia said, “the girls really need help.”

Underneath his anger about being tricked, he was tempted because Wes wanted it, and Wes hadn’t wanted anything from him since the day he got suspended. He was tempted because this time around, Julia and he were both adults and he’d gotten a tantalizing peek at her thigh and he couldn’t make himself walk away without seeing more.

As he hesitated, one of the girls tossed a shot in from the baseline, and when it went in, she pumped her fist and he felt the pleasure right along with her, the satisfaction of watching a sweet shot swish free through the net.

Nothing but air.

His Tigers.

* * *

HE WAS GETTING ready to walk and she couldn’t blame him. She should have come clean right from the start. He glanced at his brother and then back at the girls. Max put a beautiful shot in and Deacon’s eyes lit up. He still loved the game. Would that be enough to make him say yes?

The girls were unable to control their curiosity anymore and now they were inching forward to group up behind her. She wished he’d commit so they could move on and get the season started.

Tali, putting on the tough sexy-girl act she used around cute guys, shook her hair loose around her shoulders. Cora put her hand over the pimple on her chin. Miri turned sideways, trying as always to minimize her physical presence.

The next second, the situation got even more complicated.

The double gym doors banged open behind Wes, and Ty rushed in. His golf shirt was tucked into navy blue pleated pants and his face was flushed as if he’d been running. He panted as he held out his hand to Deacon, completely ignoring Julia and Wes. “Deacon Fallon, my God. I didn’t believe it when my secretary told me you signed the visitors’ log, but here you are. Right here in the old gym where it all started. Welcome back.”

Close behind the girls, Max hovered without actually joining the group, but she heard his awed, whispered “Deacon Fallon, no way.”

Deacon hesitated and then took Ty’s hand, but there was none of the old one-Tiger-to-a-fellow-Tiger heartiness she was used to seeing from Ty and the boosters. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What if Ty wooed Deacon away right here with the girls watching?

“Nice to meet you,” Deacon said. She gripped her left elbow with her right hand to keep from snatching Deacon from Ty.

“Oh, we’ve met before. Back when you were playing. Ty Chambers. I’m the principal at Milton now.” He held up his right hand, flashing the championship ring. “State—1992.”

She glanced down. Deacon was wearing a thick silver band on his right hand, but no championship ring. He probably had his mounted in some kind of trophy case. Maybe he thought wearing all four rings would be tacky.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around to meet you when you got in.” Now Ty looked at her, but his eyes flashed with simmering anger. “I wasn’t informed that you were coming.”

Julia wanted to get Deacon away so they could seal their deal. If he met the girls, she just knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. She edged toward him, trying to angle her shoulders between Ty and him, but the principal wasn’t about to be angled any which way.

“Coach Simon is in his office.” Ty put his hand on Deacon’s shoulder and gestured toward the back of the gym where the coach had his office. “I’m sure he’d love to say hey. You want to walk back and see him? I can give you a tour after that and we can talk about what brought you to Milton today.”

If she’d been a cat, she’d have hissed at him. How dare he swoop in and take Deacon from her? He wanted her girls to lose, he wanted her to lose, and it looked very much as though he would get his wish. Once a Tiger, always a Tiger. She knew how it worked.

Except, Deacon didn’t budge. Ty must have put some pressure behind his hand, expecting forward momentum, because he stumbled, almost running into Cora, when Deacon’s black boots stayed planted. Deacon’s shoulders rippled, and even in that ridiculously domesticated checked dress shirt, she felt their power. Before she realized he’d moved, Ty’s hand was hanging in midair and Deacon was one step closer to her than he’d been.

“You okay?” he asked Cora quietly, but with an unmistakable undertone that said he wasn’t happy she’d almost been stepped on.

Behind Deacon’s back, Wes lifted his chin and winked at her as if to say, Check out my big brother. The wink was fast, but he was clearly not worried. Maybe the Basketball Brothers really were the good guys.

“I’d love to say hi to Coach, but I actually got here late for my appointment and I have to get a move on and meet my Tigers.”

“Your Tigers?” Ty scanned the gym with a half smile—he thought Deacon was making a joke, but he wasn’t sure what it was about. His gaze skipped right over the girls, dismissing them as no more likely to be Deacon’s team than the bleachers were.

“My brother and I are coaching the Tigers this year.”

“Coaching the Tigers?” Ty’s smile faltered. He was even surer a joke was being told, but he still didn’t get the punch line.

Julia did, though. She met Deacon’s eyes, and knew he’d made up his mind. The girls moved, drawn in as Deacon claimed them in the face of their principal’s dismissal.

Deacon nodded and took one more step so they were standing hip to hip, the gap between them and Ty more pronounced. Wes moved up to stand on her other side. In her mind, she imagined a flourish of trumpets, and it was all she could do not to pump her arms in the air. Tada! The Basketball Brothers saved the day!

An angry flush swept up Ty’s neck into his face as he finally caught on. He hadn’t liked her much before this—being the thorn in his professional side hadn’t left room for affection—but now…she read it in his eyes. War.

Bring it!

Julia lifted her whistle to her lips, ready to get practice started.

“You’re coaching the girls?” Ty asked.

Deacon shrugged. “The budget went haywire, right? Ms. Bradley said she needed a coach. Wes and I weren’t busy.”

“The boosters have reached out to you with paid offers to run clinics, to speak at our awards dinner—hell, to show up for a game—and you never once responded.”

“I sent checks.”

“And now you’re here for what?” Ty eyed her. She didn’t blink.

“To coach the Tigers,” Deacon said. He raised his arm and pointed at the girls standing behind them. “Those are my Tigers, right there. Go, Tigers.”

Wes gave Ty a double thumbs-up that was both resoundingly cheerful and utterly obnoxious. Julia didn’t have to say a word. Ty knew he’d lost, and she savored her triumph.

* * *

SHE BLEW HER whistle and the girls gathered in a circle a few feet away. The kids moved in real close, staring curiously from her to the Fallons, throwing an occasional nervous glance toward Ty, who stood with crossed arms, leaning against the wall near the door. Thank goodness she’d actually put the volunteer paperwork through. He would be gunning for her and Deacon. She’d have to pay strict attention to the rules so he couldn’t find a vulnerability later to take them down.

“Okay, kids,” she said. “I want to officially introduce you to your new coach…coaches, Deacon Fallon and Wes Fallon. Deacon played in the NBA, but before that he was a student right here at Milton.” She pointed to the rafters. “That’s his retired jersey up there.”

Tali tossed her hair back over her shoulder, jutting out one hip to the side in a pose she probably thought was sexy, and raised her hand to ask a question. Deacon would have to figure out how to deal with this, Julia thought. They’d all have crushes on him before the season started.

“Yes?” Julia said.

“Is Coach Wes in high school?”

Cora’s eyes fluttered wildly and then she asked, “Is Coach Wes going to go to Milton?”

“I can show him around,” Iris volunteered. Even though her face betrayed no hint of exertion, she lifted her shirt to fan herself with the hem, purposely exposing a few inches of tanned and toned teenage stomach.

Julia was floored. The girls were preening for Wes, not Deacon. She’d registered that Wes was attractive, but he was a teenager. It made sense, of course, that they’d have a crush on him, not his brother. They were kids; Wes was a kid. Wes’s looks were born of his smiling, good-natured charm, whereas Deacon had a rougher, more worn handsomeness enhanced by the laugh lines around his eyes.

The girls’ reaction to Wes made her feel better about her obsession with Deacon’s arms.

And shoulders.

And glasses. Good Lord.

That she couldn’t shut out her awareness of Deacon was natural. They were both adults, and he happened to be tall and hot and standing really close to her. Her response was pure instinct. She was sure that once she got used to him, she would stop noticing every time he shifted his stance, even if his thighs in tight dark blue jeans were mesmerizing.

Wes spoke up. “I’m out of high school. I’m on a break from college to help my brother out here.”

Julia caught Deacon’s glance at his brother. That answered her question about Wes and high school, but now she had to find out what was with this break from college. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d fudged the truth on the phone the other day.

The kids posed a few more questions, and then she dismissed the team for the afternoon. Tali’s hips had a distinctly forced sway as she sashayed toward the locker room. Julia made a mental note to speak to the team about appropriate interaction with their coaches.

Tali’s brothers crowded up to Deacon after the girls had disappeared.

“You really played in the NBA?” Trey asked.

Deacon nodded. “You two on my team?”

Shawn giggled, but Trey scowled. “We’re not girls.”

Wes snapped his fingers. “I told you they were dudes, Deacon.”

“Darn. I wanted them on my team.”

Shawn giggled again.

Wes crouched so that he was closer to their eye level. “So what’s up? Why are you hanging around the high school chicks?”

Trey rolled his eyes. “Our sister is on the team. Her name’s Tali. Mom says we can’t go home by ourselves after school, even though I’m in fourth grade.”

“Tali says we’re pests, but she has to come here after school, so we do, too.”

“That’s good,” Deacon said. “Maybe you can give me the inside scoop on this team. You know, tell me who’s really good at what.”

“Man,” Trey said, “Tali’s team is so bad nobody’s any good. You sure you want to mess around with them?”

“I’m sure,” Deacon said.

“You’re making a bad decision,” Trey said.

“Yeah, like really stupid,” Shawn agreed.

* * *

DEACON HOPED TALI’S brothers were wrong, but he wasn’t certain.

Julia smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to coach,” she said. “The girls were over the moon.”

He glanced around, but Wes had moved off to play keep-away with the little boys, dribbling between his legs and behind their backs, while they squealed and darted after the ball.

“Look, Julia. I’m here and I’m staying to coach, but I don’t appreciate being tricked, and I really don’t appreciate being a pawn in whatever war you’ve got going with your buddy Principal Ty.” He’d had enough of being played with by the boosters as a kid.

Her cheeks were pink, whether from the warmth of the gym or emotion he couldn’t say.

“Ty is not my buddy. In fact, he got under my skin, and I may have made some…promises… Right before I called you, I was becoming concerned I wouldn’t be able to keep those promises. I should have explained better, but you didn’t exactly ask a lot of questions.” Which still wasn’t a real apology.

“Promises?” What the hell? She’d made promises and now he’d have to help her keep them? Wes jogged up just then. Deacon kept his eyes on Julia while he dug his keys out of his pocket. “Wes, will you go bring the car around?”

He dropped the keys to the Porsche in Wes’s hand.

“Why? You never let me drive your car. Are you and Julia going to talk about me behind my back?”

“No. And she’s Ms. Bradley to you.”

“Then why are you trying to get rid of me?” Wes asked, even as he put his hand with the keys behind his back as if afraid Deacon would snatch them away. “And she said I could call her Julia.”

“Because as of an hour ago when I accepted this job, I became the head coach and you became the assistant. The assistant does things like carry the water bottles, hold the clipboard and bring the car around. And you’re a couple months out of high school. You can call her Ms.”

Wes still didn’t move.

“You might want to get going before I decide the assistant also does the team laundry.”

Wes attempted puppy eyes on Julia. “Why does he get to be the head coach? I’m a much nicer person than he is.”

“He has more experience.”

“I’m taller.”

She shrugged. “Not by much. Plus, he’s older.”

“This is age bias.”

Julia grinned at him, but she shook her head. “I’m leaving personnel decisions in the hands of the guy with the most experience. But I really don’t mind if you call me Julia. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

“Go get the car, Wes.”

“Fine.” Wes spun the keys around his finger and caught them in his hand, clearly excited by the opportunity to drive the Porsche. “Don’t be rude to Julia while I’m gone.” He turned. “Hey, little dudes. Want to ride in my superfast car?”

The three of them ran out of the gym.

Deacon focused on the situation facing him. Coach Donny Simon, the Milton High School sports program and its boosters were the definition of self-interested. He knew that firsthand. He couldn’t let himself forget that they never offered anything that wouldn’t end with them the winners.

Where Julia stood he wasn’t as sure. They might be coaching together, but that didn’t mean they were on the same team.

“You have someplace private we can go so you can tell me about these promises?”

* * *

JULIA LED DEACON through the library to her office. She took him inside and then closed the door, confident anyone who needed her would knock.

She backed all the way up against her desk in an effort to put some space between her and Deacon. They’d barely spent an hour together, but she’d already realized something very dangerous about him: his eyes were lethal.

Somewhere along the way someone had told Wes he had cute eyes, and he didn’t hesitate to deploy their power, but she spent her days dealing with kids trying to get out of consequences or obligations. She was immune to begging eyes, even if they were as cute as Wes’s.

Deacon’s, however, were a deep, dark blue and they went to navy when he ducked his head, letting his hair shadow them. They were wary, guarded and hit her in the place in her soul that wanted to save people.

Before she’d seen him, she’d worried she and Deacon wouldn’t be able to work together if she couldn’t stop viewing him as a former student. Now that he was in her office, taking up most of the available air, making glasses look sexy, for God’s sake, she knew that fear was groundless. No one would ever mistake Deacon Fallon for a boy. His shoulders alone had enough powerful sex appeal to make her believe he’d been born a full-grown man, because certainly someone who looked the way he did had never been anything but strong and secure.

Even when Ty with all his bulk and bluster was in her office, the space didn’t feel this small. She’d never been so aware of the location of her thighs and chest in relation to Ty’s the way she was with Deacon.

“So you want to explain about these promises?” he asked.

The bet with Ty painted her in a ridiculous light; she hated to explain it. But she had to. After all, Deacon was key to the girls winning.

“It’s more of a bet than a promise. When Ty told me the board had taken away funding for the team, I bet him we would make it to States this year.”

“You bet him you would win States?” Deacon’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Not win. Just get there.” Four teams went to States, but only one could win. She much preferred the odds for getting there.

“With this team? The one I just met?”

“Yes.”

He gazed at the ceiling as if expecting to see some other team descending from the sky to prove she’d been teasing him all along.

He put his fingers up to his temples. “Okay. So you bet him the girls would get to States.” He was almost talking to himself. Talking himself down, out of his anger. “Heat of the moment. He got under your skin. I can relate. They could be better than they look. I haven’t watched them play yet.”

She wished she could let the issue go there, but she owed Deacon full disclosure. “I also bet Ty the girls’ boosters would fundraise to pay for the trip.”

“Why do I think there’s something I don’t know about the girls’ boosters?”

She had to move. Standing there letting him pick this sorry story apart was making her itch. Yet there wasn’t enough room for her to create a safe distance from Deacon. It seemed that every time she shifted, she brushed against his thigh or hip or one of those wonderfully defined arms. He was making her insane.

“The girls don’t have boosters. We aren’t very good, but that’s not the real problem.” She lifted the foam basketball she kept on her desk and aimed it at the hoop mounted on the back of the door. It missed and bounced off a stack of textbooks, right at Deacon. He caught it out of the air without even looking. He’d known where it would be and just grabbed it, because playing basketball was his magic. Deacon Fallon was helping her coach. That she’d pulled off a huge coup was sinking in. Maybe the season wasn’t out of reach. “The problem is no one believes in them. Not even the girls themselves.”

“I noticed.” He returned the ball to her—a snappy little pass with just enough force to land it neatly in her hands. “You’re telling me the bet had nothing to do with the fact that you’d rather set yourself on fire than be nice to your principal.”

“He’s wrong saying the girls’ team doesn’t matter.”

“Just remember that Ty is your enemy, not me. I don’t like mind games.”

She wanted to protest that she hadn’t been playing mind games, but she swallowed her defensiveness. He had a point.

“Most of the girls didn’t seem too excited about basketball.”

Julia pressed the ball between her hands. “We’ll change that. Now that you’re here, we can make it all work.”

“You hired a coach, Julia. I’ll coach, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

She was right up close to him again. She didn’t remember moving closer.

When someone knocked on the door, she started back guiltily. He settled against the desk.

* * *

WHATEVER THE HELL spell was building between them was broken when a kid knocked on the door. Deacon bumped into a wall shelf as he ducked back, trying to give her space.

Ms. Bradley…Julia…was right next to him and he felt the silky cotton of her skirt brush against his jeans as she leaned forward to hug the girl in the doorway. The thin sweater Julia was wearing pulled tight across her back, outlining her trim waist.

He tried not to listen in on their conversation, but he couldn’t help overhearing it. The girl needed help finding a person to interview for history class and Julia said she’d email her a list of possibilities.

That girl left, but a hulking boy of the no-neck football-lineman variety came in behind her. Deacon stepped around behind Julia so she could talk to the kid, and he watched as she scanned the paper No Neck handed her, then gave him a high five. No Neck had raised his science grade to passing.

So many of his teachers had let so much slide, but he remembered Ms. Bradley checking back until she was satisfied. She was apparently still working double time to connect with the students.

He’d noticed Julia’s toned legs and her round hips, the warm brown hair hanging soft and loose on her shoulders and the way her big, deep blue eyes took in everything with a kind of intensity. When she interacted with the kids, her whole face was alive with interest.

As she leaned back to high-five No Neck, her backside brushed Deacon’s leg and he had a vivid flashback to her silhouette at the podium and the thong. Wes was absolutely correct: Ms. Bradley was hot.

Not that he could do anything except look.

Sure, he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. His last serious relationship had ended more than a year ago.

So yeah, he couldn’t help appreciating Julia’s looks. But he was here to help Wes. Anything else, including legs and hips and intense blue eyes, was irrelevant.

When she was finished with the kids, Deacon said, “What time tomorrow?”

He surprised himself by holding out his hand for her to shake. He pressed her palm lightly. A little innocent contact wouldn’t hurt anybody. “Three o’clock, right?”

She nodded.

He’d be back for certain—even if he had no idea what to expect.