wasn’t sure it was fair for him to play, but CiCi had thrown down the gauntlet. Losing wasn’t an option.
“Right on, Coach,” Rondelle yelled, giving his teammates a high five.
Unfortunately, enthusiasm didn’t equal skill and the first series of downs was a disaster. Rondelle tried handing off to his running back, a kid with an amazing punk haircut who immediately dropped it. After a mad scramble, Jake’s team recovered the ball. That was followed by loopy Hail Mary that even a pro football receiver wouldn’t have caught. The next calamity was a bobble from the center to the quarterback. That’s when Jake played his trump card—Angel. She punted the ball a mile, pushing the other team back toward their end zone.
How about that!
It was time for some team spirit. “Don’t worry—they don’t have a chance,” he said. “Everyone gather around. Who’s gonna win?”
The resounding “we will” gave him hope. Now, if he could keep his eyes off CiCi and her smartly curved rump they might pull this off.
They had decided on a half-hour game and at the end of it, Jake’s team was ahead, thanks to Angel’s last-minute field goal.
That girl could kick. She was probably a killer on the soccer field.
CiCi performed the requisite coaches’ handshake but under her breath she muttered, “Don’t gloat or I might have to smack you.”
Although she smiled when she said it, Jake didn’t think she was joking. He didn’t know her well, but if she was anything like her daddy, she was competitive as all heck.
He put his arm around her. “Let’s take the kids over to the dam. Sliding looks like a lot of fun.”
F ROM HER OWN YEARS at camp, CiCi could attest to the entertainment factor of dam sliding. “Sure, we have about forty-five minutes before the vans pick us up. Do you have your whistle with you?”
Jake reached in his pocket and pulled out the symbol of his coaching authority. “I wouldn’t be without it.” He put it in his mouth and issued a quick blast.
When everyone had gathered around, CiCi said, “Grab your life vests and head to the dam. You have forty-five minutes. If I see you without a vest, you’re out of the water.” She shot the group a glare. “Got it?”
Sometimes she worried she was too strict, but these kids were her responsibility.
“Yeah!” The kids gave a collective scream before they scrambled toward the pile of life vests. Why was it that when kids were involved, pandemonium was the name of the game?
It took mere seconds for the racket to subside and the hordes to disperse.
Jake watched as the campers scattered toward the dam. “I think your idea was a big hit.”
“Absolutely.” CiCi couldn’t wait to do some sliding herself. “Race you.” The minute the words left her mouth she knew she’d made a mistake. The man ran for a living, and he was darned good at it.
“How about the winner gets to name the prize?” His grin was positively lascivious.
Bad, bad idea. “Sure,” CiCi said, then immediately wondered where that had come from.
She gave him a shove and took off, knowing that unless he’d landed on his keister, she didn’t have a chance of winning. And sure enough, there he was passing her with a cheeky wave.
Chapter Ten
Flip the pillow. Roll over. Check the clock.
Punch the pillow. Throw off the sheet. Check the clock.
Insomnia sucked! It had been a long day and CiCi was dead tired, but when she closed her eyes all she could see was Jake Culpepper’s glorious body.
Was it too late to call Mac’s cell? Eleven o’clock was marginal, but she decided to risk hearing her big sis gripe. After all, CiCi was having a minicrisis.
The phone rang half a dozen times before Mac croaked out an exasperated, “What do you want?”
“Did I wake you?”
Mac answered with a grunt. She didn’t sound too happy.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh, really.” Apparently, her sisters default setting was sarcasm. “Spill it.”
CiCi heard
“Right on, Coach,” Rondelle yelled, giving his teammates a high five.
Unfortunately, enthusiasm didn’t equal skill and the first series of downs was a disaster. Rondelle tried handing off to his running back, a kid with an amazing punk haircut who immediately dropped it. After a mad scramble, Jake’s team recovered the ball. That was followed by loopy Hail Mary that even a pro football receiver wouldn’t have caught. The next calamity was a bobble from the center to the quarterback. That’s when Jake played his trump card—Angel. She punted the ball a mile, pushing the other team back toward their end zone.
How about that!
It was time for some team spirit. “Don’t worry—they don’t have a chance,” he said. “Everyone gather around. Who’s gonna win?”
The resounding “we will” gave him hope. Now, if he could keep his eyes off CiCi and her smartly curved rump they might pull this off.
They had decided on a half-hour game and at the end of it, Jake’s team was ahead, thanks to Angel’s last-minute field goal.
That girl could kick. She was probably a killer on the soccer field.
CiCi performed the requisite coaches’ handshake but under her breath she muttered, “Don’t gloat or I might have to smack you.”
Although she smiled when she said it, Jake didn’t think she was joking. He didn’t know her well, but if she was anything like her daddy, she was competitive as all heck.
He put his arm around her. “Let’s take the kids over to the dam. Sliding looks like a lot of fun.”
F ROM HER OWN YEARS at camp, CiCi could attest to the entertainment factor of dam sliding. “Sure, we have about forty-five minutes before the vans pick us up. Do you have your whistle with you?”
Jake reached in his pocket and pulled out the symbol of his coaching authority. “I wouldn’t be without it.” He put it in his mouth and issued a quick blast.
When everyone had gathered around, CiCi said, “Grab your life vests and head to the dam. You have forty-five minutes. If I see you without a vest, you’re out of the water.” She shot the group a glare. “Got it?”
Sometimes she worried she was too strict, but these kids were her responsibility.
“Yeah!” The kids gave a collective scream before they scrambled toward the pile of life vests. Why was it that when kids were involved, pandemonium was the name of the game?
It took mere seconds for the racket to subside and the hordes to disperse.
Jake watched as the campers scattered toward the dam. “I think your idea was a big hit.”
“Absolutely.” CiCi couldn’t wait to do some sliding herself. “Race you.” The minute the words left her mouth she knew she’d made a mistake. The man ran for a living, and he was darned good at it.
“How about the winner gets to name the prize?” His grin was positively lascivious.
Bad, bad idea. “Sure,” CiCi said, then immediately wondered where that had come from.
She gave him a shove and took off, knowing that unless he’d landed on his keister, she didn’t have a chance of winning. And sure enough, there he was passing her with a cheeky wave.
Chapter Ten
Flip the pillow. Roll over. Check the clock.
Punch the pillow. Throw off the sheet. Check the clock.
Insomnia sucked! It had been a long day and CiCi was dead tired, but when she closed her eyes all she could see was Jake Culpepper’s glorious body.
Was it too late to call Mac’s cell? Eleven o’clock was marginal, but she decided to risk hearing her big sis gripe. After all, CiCi was having a minicrisis.
The phone rang half a dozen times before Mac croaked out an exasperated, “What do you want?”
“Did I wake you?”
Mac answered with a grunt. She didn’t sound too happy.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh, really.” Apparently, her sisters default setting was sarcasm. “Spill it.”
CiCi heard
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