Win Me Over (19 page)

Callie shrugged. “I don't know, it just doesn't feel right. Plus you're making something out of nothing. It's not like we're dating.”

Eric lifted an eyebrow and then walked over to the front door, unlocked it, and flipped the Closed sign to Open. “You're into him.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, enough to fool around.”

“Uh-uh.” Eric walked to the counter and leveled his stare. “That's not what I mean, and you know it. So you're not dating, but is this … something?”

Callie considered the question, and her definitive answer was clear. “No. It's not
something
. It can't be something. I don't want to be the female coach that puts the moves on the hot football coach.”

“Fair enough. Then be the hot female coach that lets the football coach put the moves on her.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You and I both know it's too late for any of that. You've already kissed him, maybe more, and who cares what anyone else thinks.”

Before Callie could respond, the front door opened. A woman with dark skin, curly shoulder-length ebony hair, and a beautiful smile walked in. Callie recalled seeing her in the shop before with two little girls.

“Good morning,” Callie called out. “Welcome to Callie's.”

“Good morning to you.” The woman walked right up to the counter and stuck her hand out toward Callie. “I'm Corinne. Reggie Wilson's wife.”

Callie smiled and shook her hand. “Reggie the coach, right?”

Corinne smiled. “And gym teacher.”

“Well, what brings you in today?” Callie asked.

“Two things, really. First, I wanted to get the players a little something for tonight. I know it's a mom thing to do, but it's tradition. I usually bake myself but thought why bother when your cookies are so good.”

Callie smiled and grabbed a pink box, ready to fill it. “I wish everyone thought that way.”

Eric headed to the back to frost cupcakes as Callie took Corinne's order for the team. It made Callie happy to think Bennett might eat one of her cookies with the players. She hoped he did.

They hadn't spoken since Wednesday night on the phone, and she missed him terribly. Had even considered calling him again the night before but had decided it would be weird. Yeah, they had talked and flirted a little when he called, but at least he'd had an initial reason for calling. She couldn't very well do it for the hell of it. She'd hoped to see him in passing during practice after school, but it hadn't happened.

Corinne cleared her throat. “The other reason I'm here is to invite you to our annual homecoming party. It's tonight, right after the game. Teachers, coaches, and a few of our close friends. Are you interested?”

Callie was shocked. “Oh. That's so nice. Are you sure? I don't really know many of the other teachers or coaches.”

“Exactly why you should come.” Corinne tilted her head. “And of course you know Bennett.”

Callie gave her a half smile. “I do. Thanks to the fund-raiser we're participating in.” Callie wasn't normally a blusher; she hoped that didn't change right now.

“How's that going? I have to tell you, we were all so excited to hear somebody had knocked some sense into that boy.”

“Well, that wasn't me, I can assure you. I think he just had a good reason to say yes.”

“Whatever his reason, I'm sure it didn't hurt that you're beautiful.”

Okay, the blushing was inevitable. “That's very sweet, but we're just friends. I'm just doing him a favor.” Callie knew damn well that she could go to hell for that blatant lie.

*   *   *

The Panthers were losing their homecoming game. It was one thing to be down one starter, but two was insanity. And not just any two, but Bennett's very best. He'd been looking forward to this season for a couple of years, and here they were in a damn mess.

He choked down three ibuprofens—with yellow Gatorade, which he couldn't stand—and continued pacing the sideline. He'd been afraid this might happen with the two boys out, but the reality of it was devastating. Not because he wasn't a good loser; he'd lost many times—although he hated it. But Tuesday night's events with Jason and Tate had left a heavy cloud over the team and the coaches. Morale was down, animosity was high, and Bennett had a feeling the boys were taking sides. He just wasn't sure what the sides were. It felt like the boys were mad at him, but surely that was his guilty conscience speaking.

He had some anger of his own, that was for damn sure. He was
still
having trouble processing what Tate had done. The kid had received three days' in-school suspension for punching Jason. Obviously, that meant Tate couldn't play tonight, but it also meant he'd been unable to fulfill his role as homecoming candidate. Jason had received three days of after-school detention for being involved in a fight.

Not even being crowned Homecoming King at halftime had seemed to put a smile on Jason's face. Whatever words the two young men had spoken to each other Tuesday night had caused a rift that didn't seem to be healing. That was the biggest tragedy, and Bennett hoped more than anything that the boys could restore their friendship. If it was truly over a girl—and Bennett was pretty damn sure it was—then he hoped the boys had realized already that it wasn't worth it. Although who the hell was he to talk? Right now a female had his thoughts jumbled in his brain. Women had the power to make a man do some crazy shit, like sucker punch your best friend. And ballroom dance.

Bennett shook that thought off. This was football and he needed to focus on the game. It wasn't like him to allow such a distraction. He eyed the field and groaned as one of his boys made a ridiculous fumble on a second down. The crowd's unison
awww
was like a knife to Bennett's heart; he'd heard it again and again over the course of the evening. He bit off a curse of relief when the player managed to recover the ball. Not that it mattered, they were going to lose tonight, but damn, it would be nice to make this final score.

Bennett signaled for a time-out. The ref blew his whistle, and the boys ran over to the sideline where Bennett stood waiting. After they were all huddled he let out a deep breath. He couldn't give them a bunch of shit now: everyone was hurting; the situation was the fault of no single player on the field tonight … only the two who weren't. But he needed to say
something
.

“It's been a tough night, y'all. Your spirits are down; shit, mine are, too. But we're Panthers. We may lose a few, but we don't give up, and I can feel some of y'all givin' up.” He hated how stress made his accent come out in full force.

Bennett glanced around. Many helmets were slumped in shame and despair. His guys hated to lose. He did, too.

“All of you listen the hell up.” Reggie stepped in. He was much better at pep talks than Bennett was. They might not be poetic or even appropriate, but they were effective. “I don't know about you, but I'm not going out like this. Panthers don't take ass whoopin's, you hear me? So quit your damn cryin' and feeling sorry for yourselves. So we're down a couple men, so what. Quit actin' like you lost your manhood. Pull your shit together and give me this touchdown. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Coach,” rang out from the mass of bobbing helmets.

“On three,” Bennett said. The boys huddled, counted off, and ran back to the twenty-yard line. Two downs and five minutes later they'd made the touchdown but lost the game. The final score was 22–14.

Bennett slugged through a morose wrap-up in the locker room, trying to find something encouraging to say, which was hard because for once he was unsure of what the immediate future held. He talked to parents—some concerned, some angry, some full of pity—gathered his stuff, and then headed to his truck.

He was completely exhausted as he made his way to the parking lot. So far this was the most depressing game of his coaching career, and he couldn't stop thinking that it shouldn't have happened.

He hated that he had so many other things going on in his life this season. He couldn't help feeling like maybe he should have sensed the strife between his two best players. But no, he'd been clueless. The fight had come out of nowhere as far as he was concerned, which was irritating, but he was even more pissed with Tate and Jason. If there was one thing Bennett had stressed to his guys it was that he was there if they needed him. Why hadn't the two talked to him about the shit that was going on between them? He hoped that it wasn't because they'd felt he was too busy for them right now.

But as much as that all sucked, Bennett had one thing going right in his life. Callie. Yeah, maybe it was all a distraction, but he deserved it, didn't he? He'd devoted all of his time and energy over the past six years to this school and this team. He was enjoying himself, and most important, he was enjoying her. All the way home he debated calling her tonight. Would it seem like a booty call? Did that matter?

Bennett pulled into his driveway and headed into the house. Misha greeted him the second he walked in, her tiny paws kneading at his legs. He dropped his bags and scooped her into his arms. “You miss me?”

The little fur ball responded with tiny licks to his chin. Bennett chuckled and set her down before heading to the back door. “Come on, Misha, let's go potty.”

He smiled at the clicking of her tiny nails against the wood floor, and then she was out the back door. Bennett walked over to the fridge and pulled out something he only reserved for game nights. A bottle of sweet tea. His beverage vice, since he no longer drank alcohol. Also a reminder of his childhood.

When Bennett was a kid his mother would make a fresh pitcher of sweet tea every single day. She'd eventually stopped, realizing it probably wasn't the healthiest option, but for Bennett it was a reminder of happy times. Now on game days he always made sure to have one on hand. To be honest, it wasn't even really that great, but nostalgia was a powerful thing; it was about comfort.

Just as he was about to snap the lid open, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey, Reg.”

“Where you at? I thought you'd be here by now.” Laughter and happy voices sounded in the background.

Shit,
the annual homecoming party. Bennett blew out a breath. “I'm sorry, man. I can't believe I forgot.”

“What the hell, Clark? We've been doing this for five years now.”

“I know; I just…” Bennett glanced at the back door and ran a hand through his hair. “I've had a lot on my mind. Then tonight.”

“Yeah, tonight sucked. Which is exactly why you need to get your ass over here. We won't talk about the game. Just eat some good food and shoot the shit.”

“I know, man; I just think I'm going to miss this year. Now that I'm home I'm tired as hell.” He also possibly had other plans.

Reggie was silent for a minute, and Bennett felt like a total ass. Reggie's wife, Corinne, went to a lot of trouble every year for this. The sounds of the party faded on the other end of the line, as if Reggie had gone into a quiet room. “This isn't about your dance partner, is it?” he asked.

Bennett's stomach knotted. “What? No. Why do you ask that?”

“I don't know. You've been spending time together; you seemed kinda into her maybe. Then Corinne talked to her at her shop this morning.”

Bennett stalked over to the back door and opened it, trying to process the change in the conversation. Misha's white fur almost glowed in the dark as she pranced through the yard and inside. “She did? What about?”

Callie did not seem like the type to kiss and tell. No way.

“Nothing bad. Just that you guys were only friends. She was just helping you out as a favor.”

What the hell?
He couldn't really blame her; what was she supposed to say? But he definitely didn't like her answer.

“Okay. Fine, but that has nothing to do with tonight.”

“All right. I believe you, just wanted to be sure you weren't avoiding the party because of her.”

Bennett froze. “Is she there?”

He didn't miss Reggie's small chuckle. “Yep. Corinne invited her, and she's been sitting with McNeal for the past twenty minutes. Now I can't be certain, but it looks like he might be putting the moves on her nice and thick.”

Bennett was silent. He had no words, but right now his jealousy was a living, breathing thing. He could feel it weighing down on his chest.

McNeal?
John was one of Bennett's assistant coaches.

“So, uh, I'll see you in about twenty?” Reggie said, his voice full of amusement.

“You're a smart-ass,” Bennett said.

“Hey, one of us has to be smart.” The line went dead.

Bennett filled Misha's water bowl and then headed to his bedroom to take a shower. He had a damn party to go to.

 

Ten

Callie laughed at another one of John's corny jokes. He was funny, especially since he'd clearly had a little too much to drink. He was kind of cute, too. However, John's attention didn't keep her from glancing at the sliding glass doors every thirty seconds.

The party was spread throughout the Wilsons' house from the living room, through the kitchen, all the way out to the back patio, where she currently sat in a folding camp chair. One of many situated around a cute little brick fire pit. The fire did nothing to take her thoughts off Bennett. Would the smell of burning wood always make her think of kissing him? Touching him? Probably. And why wasn't he here?

“So, I heard you're teaching our main man how to dance,” John said beside her. Callie turned her head to meet his eyes. He was leaned against the side of his chair—which he'd scooted closer to her at some point.