Kelly or Gretchen. It was Sam’s name that popped up. They’d all exchanged info during Eagles Fest, since the three women were essentially in charge and the three guys were among the guests of honor. She didn’t want to think too hard about why she hadn’t deleted his info when he went back to Texas.
Mrs. McD wants to know if there’s a bake sale for homecoming.
Under that text bubble was another, sent a few seconds after the first. Sorry. Good morning.
Crap. Homecoming was right around the corner and her to-do list for it was epic. She has enough going on with Coach.
Nonsense. There was a pause and then another bubble popped up. That was her comment, not mine.
Jen laughed and took the last sip of her rapidly cooling coffee. She really should be leaving for school. I think the kids would riot if there was no bake sale.
After a few seconds, her screen indicated he was typing and she washed out her cup while she waited. She’ll make mini chocolate chip muffins.
Sounds good.
Will there be pistachio bars? Then a second bubble. That was me, not Mrs. McD. She said she keeps forgetting to ask you about the bake sale and you get up early so she’d callyou except she’s cooking so I said I’d text. In case you were wondering.
You can text me anytime. As soon as she hit send, she decided that sounded too flirty. She needed a distraction. There are always pistachio bars. And brownies. The good chewy, fudgy kind.
I’ll bring a gallon of milk with me.
She really had to go or she was going to be late for her first appointment. You know you have to attend all the homecoming stuff, right? Coach.
Lucky me. Is there a schedule somewhere?
I’m on my way in so I’ll make a note to check if there’s a final version and drop it by practice.
Thanks. See you then.
She sent him a smiley face emoji and then felt stupid, so she grabbed her bag and went to work. During the short drive, she tried not to think about the fact she’d found an excuse to see him. She could have given him the link to the school’s website and told him where to find it. Or she could have taped it to his office door.
Instead she’d offered to bring it to him personally, which meant she’d get to talk to him for a few minutes, and she felt a flutter of anticipation. At the rate she was going, if she didn’t get a handle on this crush, it was only a matter of time before she was sending Gretchen and Kelly little monkey emojis.
—
S am stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection and wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
He liked his life simple, if a little rough around the edges. A hard day’s work followed by an ice-cold soda or two in his camp chair before falling asleep in front of the television. An occasional night on the town. Calluses and worn denim and sweat.
The man in the mirror looked like the kind of guy people expected big things from. Freshly showered and clean-shaven, Sam was wearing the blue polo shirt with the Stewart Mills Eagles logo that had been Coach’s uniform for decades. And khakis. He’d bought and was wearing his first pair of khakis. No matter how ill prepared he felt on the inside, he couldn’t deny that on the outside, he looked like a high school football coach.
It was weird.
He went downstairs to say good-bye to Coach and Mrs. McDonnell. There was still time to kill before practice, but he wanted to swing by and look at the apartment Kelly had lined up for him. And he didn’t think there were enough hours in the day, even when he got up at the crack of dawn with his hosts, to memorize Coach’s playbook binder.
“You heading out?” he heard Coach call from the recliner, no doubt alerted by the sound of his feet on the stairs.
“I am. Do you need anything while I’m running around town?” Sam frowned, not liking Coach’s color today. Sometimes if he didn’t sleep well, it would give his skin a grayish pallor, so maybe that’s all it was.
“Nope. Helen just left to go
Mrs. McD wants to know if there’s a bake sale for homecoming.
Under that text bubble was another, sent a few seconds after the first. Sorry. Good morning.
Crap. Homecoming was right around the corner and her to-do list for it was epic. She has enough going on with Coach.
Nonsense. There was a pause and then another bubble popped up. That was her comment, not mine.
Jen laughed and took the last sip of her rapidly cooling coffee. She really should be leaving for school. I think the kids would riot if there was no bake sale.
After a few seconds, her screen indicated he was typing and she washed out her cup while she waited. She’ll make mini chocolate chip muffins.
Sounds good.
Will there be pistachio bars? Then a second bubble. That was me, not Mrs. McD. She said she keeps forgetting to ask you about the bake sale and you get up early so she’d callyou except she’s cooking so I said I’d text. In case you were wondering.
You can text me anytime. As soon as she hit send, she decided that sounded too flirty. She needed a distraction. There are always pistachio bars. And brownies. The good chewy, fudgy kind.
I’ll bring a gallon of milk with me.
She really had to go or she was going to be late for her first appointment. You know you have to attend all the homecoming stuff, right? Coach.
Lucky me. Is there a schedule somewhere?
I’m on my way in so I’ll make a note to check if there’s a final version and drop it by practice.
Thanks. See you then.
She sent him a smiley face emoji and then felt stupid, so she grabbed her bag and went to work. During the short drive, she tried not to think about the fact she’d found an excuse to see him. She could have given him the link to the school’s website and told him where to find it. Or she could have taped it to his office door.
Instead she’d offered to bring it to him personally, which meant she’d get to talk to him for a few minutes, and she felt a flutter of anticipation. At the rate she was going, if she didn’t get a handle on this crush, it was only a matter of time before she was sending Gretchen and Kelly little monkey emojis.
—
S am stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection and wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
He liked his life simple, if a little rough around the edges. A hard day’s work followed by an ice-cold soda or two in his camp chair before falling asleep in front of the television. An occasional night on the town. Calluses and worn denim and sweat.
The man in the mirror looked like the kind of guy people expected big things from. Freshly showered and clean-shaven, Sam was wearing the blue polo shirt with the Stewart Mills Eagles logo that had been Coach’s uniform for decades. And khakis. He’d bought and was wearing his first pair of khakis. No matter how ill prepared he felt on the inside, he couldn’t deny that on the outside, he looked like a high school football coach.
It was weird.
He went downstairs to say good-bye to Coach and Mrs. McDonnell. There was still time to kill before practice, but he wanted to swing by and look at the apartment Kelly had lined up for him. And he didn’t think there were enough hours in the day, even when he got up at the crack of dawn with his hosts, to memorize Coach’s playbook binder.
“You heading out?” he heard Coach call from the recliner, no doubt alerted by the sound of his feet on the stairs.
“I am. Do you need anything while I’m running around town?” Sam frowned, not liking Coach’s color today. Sometimes if he didn’t sleep well, it would give his skin a grayish pallor, so maybe that’s all it was.
“Nope. Helen just left to go
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