Win Me Over (15 page)

“Not a chance. If anything, I'm upping my game.”

Reggie laughed and patted Bennett's back. “We'll see about that. I'll see you out there.” Reggie headed back out on the field, leaving Bennett to stand alone. He sat down on the bench and leaned onto his knees.

Bennett appreciated that once he'd confessed Reg hadn't pushed. He knew that if he needed someone to talk to his friend was there, but Reggie wasn't going to force Bennett into any conversations. Sometimes it was just enough to know that your friends had your back if you needed them.

But he hadn't been lying. Yeah, he was distracted, but he was fine. He'd decided to focus on getting through the next month by just making it all about the process. Learning the routine, perfecting it. He could do that, treat it like any other athletic goal. He learned, he practiced, and when the time came he would execute the play. And if things went right, he would win.

They
would win.

And then he hoped the Evan would follow in January, his boys would get scholarship money, and all would be right in Bennett's world.

Yep, that was the plan, and nothing made him feel better than having a plan.

*   *   *

Callie tucked her face into her scarf and shoved her hands into her pockets as she headed out of the school parking lot and into the neighboring field for the homecoming bonfire. The high school sat on the outskirts of town, perfect for such an event, and it was an ideal night for a bonfire. The earthy scent of wood smoke carried in the crisp breeze, the epitome of a fall evening.

She passed a few tables, the Drama Club selling popcorn, a few PTA moms selling hot apple cider. She decided to purchase a cup, happy to have the warmth on her fingers. She chatted with a mom who asked her about the upcoming Little Pantherettes dance clinic. Callie was really excited about the fund-raiser and the girls had been doing a great job with the planning, for which she was grateful. Apparently it was a long-standing tradition between the cheerleaders and dance team to teach the little girls of Preston a routine that they then performed at a home game.

Callie inhaled the scent of cinnamon from her cider as she made her way toward the excited mass of students already congregating. Rows of hay bales flanked the roaring fire, and a set of movable metal bleachers faced it on the front side. Several pickup trucks had backed in along the far side, tailgates open and full of snuggling teens. She headed in that direction, only to hear the unmistakable sound of one of her girls giggling.

Between two trucks, somewhat hidden from view, Callie caught sight of Jessica Monser with a football player, his letter jacket–clad arms wrapped around the girl like a straitjacket. Callie tried to sound laid-back when she called, “Jessica, where should you be?”

“Oh, be right there, Coach.” Callie watched as Jessica tried to pull herself from the young man's grasp as he whispered something into her ear that had her giggling again. Her voice was playful when she said, “You need to stop.”

Callie stood and waited until Jessica finally ran off to join the other members of the dance team. Callie sighed. Why had she just felt a twinge of jealousy of a sixteen-year-old girl? Not because of the boy—
ew
—but just the blissful ignorance. Flirting and bantering with someone. Callie knew all too well what young love was like. Drama, heartache, and more drama. But there was something to be said for just going with it. Putting yourself out there and seeing what would happen.

No. An invitation for madness was what that was. It was those heated, young, and reckless relationships that taught people to wise up. Get their shit together and put up emotional walls. The kind that protected your heart.

Speaking of walls, Callie spotted Bennett across the bonfire pit on the opposite side of the flames. Apparently he was manning the fire. Not a surprise, he seemed like the outdoorsy type and had mentioned camping. She watched as he used a garden shovel to arrange some blazing logs to his liking. Sparks popped from the flames and he stepped back a foot or so. So precise, so controlled. He didn't do anything on accident or without thought.

Except maybe that kiss, that had felt very impulsive, which made it all the more frightening. The attraction between them wasn't a secret even though they hadn't come right out and discussed it, but she could tell he'd fought it. She'd fought just as hard, and to know that he'd finally given in seemed … big. His kiss had felt like a question:
What are we going to do about this? Can I have you? Can you handle me?

She wasn't sure she could.

She watched him now, his eyes glowing in the firelight. She loved the way his jeans molded perfectly to his thick thighs. He looked so adorable in his Preston hoodie, and he'd even put on a well-loved ball cap. Her knees nearly buckled at the sight of him. He was so rugged and masculine but at the same time so boyish. That was the problem; she couldn't figure this man out and it made her feel out of control. A feeling she wasn't particularly fond of.

It had been a little over a week, and they'd practiced three times since
the night of the kiss.
Things were going surprisingly well with the routine. It was as if he'd decided to stop focusing on her at all and put all of his energy into learning the dance. He'd even picked up the basic waltz step much faster than she'd expected when she'd used duct tape on the floor to help teach him. And while she was happy that the dance was coming along and she loved his newfound dedication … she missed him. Neither one of them had teased or flirted since she'd said they couldn't kiss again.

At the time telling him they couldn't be physical had made sense. Sort of. But the truth was she'd replayed that kiss over and over a million times in her mind. It was crazy; he was in her thoughts while she was baking, cleaning the shop, driving to the bank.

She even dreamed about him.

With her mind full of Bennett Clark, practice—while going well—had become hell for Callie. The whole time she tried not to stare at his lips or imagine his hands touching her in inappropriate places. But being that close to such a virile man made things difficult. Probably the only thing that had kept her from breaking her own rule was his cool demeanor.

A log popping made her jump and her eyes met Bennett's. She gave him a little wave. He only lifted his chin in acknowledgment. They'd seen each other that afternoon for practice, cutting things short early because of the bonfire. But still, he could have seemed a little happier to see her.

She turned back to the girls, highly annoyed. With him, with herself, with her stupid hormones. What did she want? When he'd kissed her she'd pushed him away and made it very clear that it shouldn't happen again. He was doing exactly as she asked. And yet she could still imagine the light in his eyes dimming when she'd said it. He'd been surprised … and maybe hurt.

She was stupid. Stupid because she'd wanted it so badly, wanted it still. But it had been so amazing it had overwhelmed her. Kissing Bennett hadn't been like any average kiss she'd had before; his was the kind of kiss that you'd never get tired of. Never stop wanting.

Trying to get over herself, Callie ushered the girls over into the field to stretch. They would do their usual Pep Assembly routines, which was really what this was, a sort of kickoff to homecoming week. After five minutes, Callie counted the dancers. One was missing, so she looked at her phone and found an “I'm running late” text. She went ahead and said a few quick words before she motioned all of them to their designated spot just beyond the fire. Tonight they were wearing their blue and white Pantherettes warm-ups, their new hair bows courtesy of Callie's mother, and were doing a pom routine in addition to the usual fanfare that accompanied pep rallies.

Callie found a seat near the girls on a hay bale and took a sip of her cider as the drum line beat out the familiar beginning of the school song, the crowd instantly coming to their feet with a loud cheer. From the corner of her eye she saw the final girl arrive and run toward the group and then watched with pride as her girls proceeded to do a perfect kick routine. She clapped for them, winking as they looked toward her for approval. She was one proud coach tonight. Every night for that matter; they were all special and so very talented.

The rest of the evening went as she expected. Singing, cheers, burning a football player dummy, announcing the Homecoming candidates. All the usual ruckus. Bennett spoke quickly, as did his two senior captains, which got the crowd incredibly pumped up. Principal Jensen said a few words, and then finally things were drawing to a close.

When it was officially over the students began to disperse, some walking to the parking lot, some breaking into groups to socialize, a few even running around in the dark parts of the field, laughing and goofing off. It was a little crazy, but Callie picked her way through the bodies around to the other side of the fire. Immediately she found Bennett; no way he could be missed. He was speaking with a couple of his players, something that had them all laughing hard. God, he was gorgeous when he was happy like that. She smiled to herself just watching it.

As if overhearing her thoughts, he turned and met her eyes, the laughing gone. For a moment she wondered if he planned to ignore her. Thank goodness he didn't but instead headed directly for her. She cleared her throat and met him halfway.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey yourself.”

“That went well.”

He shrugged, the hood of his sweatshirt bunching behind his neck. “Went like it does every year.”

O-kay.
So he wasn't in the best of moods—only when it came to her apparently, since she'd just seen him cracking up with his players. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Just seems like … something's been off between us this past week.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Wasn't that what you wanted?”

Callie sighed and glanced around to see if anyone was nearby before she whispered, “Bennett, I said we shouldn't kiss again. Not that we can't be friends.”

“Who said we're not friends? We've spent several evenings together practicing. There's been no issues.” This time he glanced around and lowered his voice. “I've done what you said, worked hard to learn even though it fucking sucks. What more do you want from me?”

She was stunned silent; it was not like him at all to react that way, and when he realized she wasn't going to reply immediately he took a step toward the flames and away from her. The strong emotion he'd just let slip only served to make Callie want to touch him all the more. So maybe his playing it cool all week hadn't been so easy.

A parent walked up to Bennett and he chatted with them briefly about the upcoming game. His voice took on a warm and friendly tone, completely different from the one that he'd been using with her for the past week. She missed that warmth.

Callie glanced around, noting that the field was nearly empty save a few clusters of teens, and despite the roaring fire in front of her, she felt cold. She wondered if he would just rather call this whole thing off. Nobody was forcing them to do this competition. No one's life was on the line, but her sanity sure was. Maybe she should tell him that it wasn't working.

She stepped a little closer to the fire and a moment later felt him beside her. She glanced in his direction; he had his tool back in his hand and was pushing at the burning wood. “You staying to help me kill this fire or what?”

Was he asking her to stay? It almost felt like an odd apology for his outburst a minute ago. Part of her wanted to think that maybe he wanted her near, and that made her wish for more. Of all the things she'd considered saying in response, the one that came out of her mouth surprised even her. “I dreamed of kissing you last night.”

He didn't turn and look at her; instead his eyes pinched shut and he sucked in a breath. When he blew it out he whispered harshly, staring right into the flames, “Don't. Don't do that.”

“Why—”

The sound of angry male voices cut her off and pulled their attention toward the opposite side of the fire. Through the dwindling flames she saw a group of kids circled near one of the pickups. She felt Bennett tense beside her.

“Those are my boys,” he said, taking off in a run.

Callie followed, confusion mixing with panic. The minute she and Bennett made their way over to the group she heard the unmistakable sound of fist meeting bone, followed by a loud thud against the truck.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bennett's tone was fierce, with an undertone of pure fear. It frightened her and made her heart ache simultaneously.

Students parted for him as he made his way to the center of the melee and Callie pushed in right behind him. Even in the dark and shadows she knew someone was on the ground. She said a quick prayer he wasn't severely injured, but her thoughts scattered when someone began to mumble.

“Shit, oh shit, oh shit, Coach Clark. I don't—Jason—it was an accident,” one of the boys began chanting, his voice pure panic, his breathing labored.

“Tate, shut up and tell me what happened,” Bennett spat, as he crouched on the ground near, apparently, Jason's unmoving form. He was a big kid, much bigger than the one freaking out above him. Callie wondered how Tate had managed to knock Jason down.

“It was an accident,” Tate repeated, running his hands through his hair, squeezing his head, as he stared down at Jason.

Callie turned on her phone's flashlight and angled it over Bennett's shoulder. Jason winced and groaned as the light hit his eyes. Right at the hairline was a large bump and a gash in his head, gaping slightly. Bennett reached up and grabbed Callie's phone from her hands without a word. The dozen or so people crowded around leaned in even closer, trying to get a look.