“You’re scared of them,” I told him, whirling around to face him. The green of his eyes was dark, his features hard, and his stance tense. I stepped back. “You’re scared of the goats.”
This wasn’t important. I didn’t even care whether he had some strange animal phobia. A part of me I was trying really hard to ignore even softened at the knowledge. I was deflecting, though.
And Cameron seemed to see right through me. “We’re all afraid of something in this life, darling,” he said. “The little freak-out you’ve just had is evidence of that.” A muscle on his jaw ticked. “It’s only a matter of time until I find out.”
Find out about what? I wanted to ask.
But Cameron Caldani was leaving my mat and walking back to his.
Storming off in a way and leaving me with too much to think about.
One more time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cameron
Coaching the Green Warriors wasn’t going to be the walk in the park it had been until now.
It had nothing to do with the girls. Practice had been what you would expect from a group of kids under the age of ten: chaos with the occasional moment of pure and sheer desperation and a pinch of madness.
The problem was the new general manager, as she loved to call herself.
I watched the last two girls walk off in the direction of their parents—and Diane, who had once again kept watch from her car all during practice—and whirled on my heels, immediately spotting the woman camping out on the bleachers. I’d assumed last Thursday had been a one-time occurrence. But there she was again.
With a resigned shake of my head, I started in her direction and watched Adalyn while I crossed the shoddy grass with long and quick strides. Her laptop was balanced on her knees, and she was leaning slightly forward, engrossed by whatever was on the screen. My eyes followed the line of her shoulders and arms, taking in the pressed button-down blouse. She’d taken off the blazer at some point between me giving up on teaching the girls the simplest way to dribble the ball and getting Juniper—our keeper—to learn how to dive for the ball so she wouldn’t hurt herself. I’d managed neither.
My gaze tipped down as I got closer, irritation rising at the sight of those bloody heels again. It boggled my mind that she consistently moved in those things in a town where, besides Main Street, most roads weren’t even paved. She’d even come to that goat yoga happy hour nonsense in them. In a heartbeat, I was thrusted back to Sunday. To Adalyn, in those leggings. The tank top. To the warmth of her body beneath my fingertips. To how—
Something rippled in my gut at the unfinished thought, and when I finally reached her I couldn’t stop the words from taking shape in the way they did. “Why are you here?”
Here. In Green Oak. My head.
She seemed more surprised by my being there than by my question when that little frown formed. “Where else should I be? The facilities don’t have an office where I can set up. So the bleachers seemed like the best place.” Her fingers slid across the mouse pad a few times. “My hotspot isn’t working today, do you get good reception here?” She looked around, as if searching for something. “Maybe tomorrow I can try the other side of the field.”
“So you really mean to sit here through every single practice?”
“Of course,” she confirmed. As if that was the obvious thing to do. And before I could say how I felt about it, she was switching topics. “How do you feel practice went today? I was thinking we should have a weekly meeting to evaluate how things progress. I’ll print a few copies of the roster so we can make notes on every player to develop their strengths and assess their weaknesses.” She pulled a blue binder out of her bag. “Here, take this home, in case you want to get ahead. Josie gave me some printouts on my first day. I went ahead and filed them. What do you think of Wednesdays? There’s practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, so middle of the week makes the most sense.”
I blinked slowly. “We don’t need meetings. They’re just kids.”
“They are.” She nodded, still holding the binder in the air. “And they also are qualified for a regional little league that will be starting in less than a week.” Her lips pursed. “Did you know the only reason the Green Warriors made it through is because they’re the only U10 team in the whole county?”
No. I hadn’t known. “They still are just kids.”
“Wednesdays it is,” she said. “First game is on Saturday. I think we can use the chance to see how they do and take it from here. A copy of the game schedule is in the binder, too.” I opened my mouth, but she went on. “They will be playing five other towns in the upcoming weeks. Grovesville, Rockstone, Fairhill, Yellow Springs, and New Mount. The organization of the league is funny, actually. It’s point-based but the teams only play each other once. The two that end at the top will get to the final.”
I glanced down at her hand. “Are you really explaining to me how a league works?”
“I said it was a strange structure.” She pushed the binder in my direction and when I didn’t take it from her, she dropped her arm and let it rest on her lap. “You’re going to make this harder than it should be, aren’t you?”
“Me?” My brows wrinkled. “You think I am the one complicating this.”
“I guess I deserve that,” Adalyn murmured, reaching for her bag. Something stirred in my gut at the slight tone of defeat in her voice. She pulled out a second binder. This one was red. “Saturday’s game is against the Grovesville Bears.”
Once more, I was more than a little impressed by the way she pushed through what I threw at her. I didn’t think she deserved it, but I still didn’t like that she was here, in Green Oak, sucking me into her vortex. She moved to her bag again and pulled out a Post-it stack. I tilted my head. “What do you have in there, a print shop?”
“Close,” she said dryly. “I went ahead and researched every team and town playing the Six Hills,” she added, scribbling something on a sticky note and plastering it to one of the pages inside the binder. “There wasn’t much but everything I found is here.” She looked up and met my gaze. “It would be great if you could go through what’s in here about the Grovesville Bears before our meeting on Wednesday. You have about a day and a half. I’ve just marked it for you.”
I stared at her, that set of brown eyes waiting, expecting a confirmation or a promise that I would, if I had to guess. But with her hair up in a tight bun, it was hard not to get distracted by all that weary tiredness clinging to her features.
The question toppled off my lips, “Are you getting any sleep on the air mattress?”
Her eyelids swept up and down a couple of times. Slowly. She shook her head. “This Saturday is a home game for the Green Warriors,” she said. “Depending on the outcome, I’ll pitch you my press angles. But first I need to see how well the Green Warriors can do.”
My whole body went alert at the mention of press.
Adalyn must have seen that, because she explained, “My focus is on the girls and the success story I’m here to make happen.” She made a careful pause. “Your focus should be on getting them the points that land them in the final.” Another moment of hesitation. “You win the games and I’ll keep you out of my angle. That’s all I ask.”
That was all she asked? As if she hadn’t asked enough already.
And yet… There was that moment of hesitation. It told me she was more bark than bite.
The red binder was pushed against my chest. I didn’t take it.
“Okay,” she murmured, standing up suddenly. Thanks to the difference in height of the stand she was on, her chest lined up with my gaze. “Don’t take the binder, then,” she continued, her breasts rising and falling with a deep breath. My jaw clamped down at the trail of memories triggered by that sight. Sunday. Yoga. My hands on her. Softness and warmth under my fingers. My palm on that exact spot on her chest as she’d struggled for air. Her hand flew to one of the tiny buttons of her blouse, returning me to the present. “I guess we should wrap up here.”