“Poor people. They have no clue how devious you are.”
“At least they aren’t throwing their daughters at me anymore.” I keep my voice light. “I saw Andrew sitting with you.”
“He sat next to Lois, actually.” She shrugs. “Are you jealous?”
“We’re together, and he’s your ex. People will talk.”
Her eyes search mine. “Give them something else to talk about, darling.”
I press my lips against hers, taking her mouth like I own it. It’s the first real kiss since that night in my office, and I admit part of me has wanted to do this for a while. She tastes like rain and sweetness. God, she feels good.
“That’ll do it,” she breathes, then steps out of my arms, her chest rising. “I’ll see you later tonight,” she adds loudly, probably for the female fan club waiting by the locker room door.
I grab her hand before she gets away. I look up at the sky, anxiousness flitting over me. “Hey. Drive safe in the rain. Go slow, and put your seat belt on, okay? Are you stopping anywhere on the way home?”
She searches my face, and I see the dawning in her eyes. “Slow. Got it. And no, we’re going straight back.”
“Text me when you get there, okay? For real.”
She nods, and I let my hand trail away from hers as she walks away, finding Sabine and Lois.
I’m still watching her when Skeeter hits me on the arm. “Killer game. You ready to talk to the team?”
“Yeah.” I turn and head to the locker room, reminding myself that my anchor in life is coaching football. Nothing else.
The following week, I’m midbite of my turkey sandwich when Melinda breezes in the teachers’ lounge carrying a cake. “Ronan! I’m so glad I caught you.”
“Here we go,” Skeeter mutters under his breath, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Bloody hell, she can’t catch a clue,” Sonia whispers, then glances at Skeeter. “Like some people.”
Skeeter shoves a Philly cheesesteak sandwich in his mouth and chews. “What do you mean?”
Sonia turns red. “N-nothing.”
Melinda places the cake on the table, then touches my shoulder, her hand lingering. “My dad sent this over. I thought you might want to share it with the team.”
A triangular sheet cake, it has the score from the game last week and GREAT GAME, BOBCATS!
I murmur a thank-you as she sits across from me. She crosses her legs, her foot brushing against my knee for a little too long. I set my sandwich down and pull out my cell.
I need u asap. Stat. Not a drill. Where r u?
Maybe this isn’t exactly an emergency, and the truth is I can handle Melinda on my own, but Nova’s usually in here by now. Andrew is noticeably absent as well.
She sends me an eye roll emoji. On my way. Hold your horses.
A few minutes later, she comes in the door, and my eyes rake over her hip-hugging yellow dress. The neckline is cut deep, showing the silky skin of her cleavage. Her blonde hair is straight and glossy, framing her features. Her sapphire eyes are outlined in dark makeup, her lashes thick and black, her lips a lush red. She’s absolutely dazzling—like a fucking star—and watching her walk in the lounge is my favorite part of my day. She gives the table a sweeping look, then her “Hey, y’all,” making my lips twitch.
She moves away from Andrew—where his hand was on her lower back.
My blood pressure spikes.
“Hullo, mate!” Sonia calls. “How were the deviants today?”
Nova replies to Sonia. “Caesar is officially dead in the Senate! Stabbed twenty-three times by his best friend and the rest!” She pumps her fist, then grins. “And no one was put in time-out.”
She leans down, brushing her lips over my cheek, then sits next to me, our shoulders touching. “Hello, darling.”
“Hey, babe.”
Andrew sits down next to Melinda and opens his lunch as Sonia reaches over the table to give Nova a fist bump.
“Did Caleb show today?” Sonia asks.
Nova’s face radiates hope as she nods. “I wore him down when I showed up the next day with Blizzards for us and his grandmother. He said it was embarrassing to have my pink Caddy in his driveway when everyone could see it . . .” She takes out her sandwich. “He’s still surly—”
Melinda laughs abruptly, interrupting her. “I’d be surprised if you get anything out of him. I never could.”
“A kid’s personal life can affect their performance at school,” Nova says, frowning at Melinda. “Maybe he just needed someone to show they cared. I lost my dad when I was fourteen; it was the toughest year of my life. My grades were terrible. I’m glad Mrs. Pettigrew put him in my class.”