Not Another Bad Date by Rachel Gibson Page A

so. He’d once told her that the fear of three-hundred-pound linebackers was nothing compared to slipping with a curse word or being disrespectful in front of his mother.
    It was nice to see you again, Adele , he’d said, but he was probably just being polite. Not that she cared.

    A dele had lost her accent. A smile curved Zach’s lips. Well, she might have lost that Southern, melt-you-like-butter voice spilling from her full red mouth, but she was still as hot as all hell. Still had those long curls and turquoise eyes that looked slightly drowsy even when she was wide-awake. Still looked good in other places, too.
    Zach dried his hair with a towel, then hung it on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. He grabbed his electric razor and walked into his bedroom. He had half an hour to get to his office at Cedar Creek High to review last night’s game tapes with the other coaches. He shaved as he dressed in blue boxers, a pair of Levi’s, and a Cougars Coaching Staff sweatshirt.
    She hadn’t seemed very happy to see him, though. In fact, she’d been all fired up to leave. Which was probably for the best. He wasn’t the kind of guy who lived in the past or thought much about what might or could have been. He didn’t relive his glory days in the NFL, nor did he rehash his mistakes. God knows there’d been enough of those.
    Zach pointed his chin to the ceiling and shaved just below his jaw. When he did look back on his life, he saw it in three distinct parts. Before the NFL, during, and his life now. He’d known Adele a few lifetimes ago, and he had little interest in a trip down memory lane. Especially with a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
    He shut off his razor and tossed it on the dresser. She did look good, though. As beautiful as ever, and the front of her sweater had been real interesting. His smile tilted up a bit more. She’d obviously been cold.
    “Daddy,” Tiffany called out a second before she knocked. Typical of her, she didn’t wait for an answer before she stuck her head inside. “When ya gonna be back?”
    “Probably around two.” He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on a pair of clean socks. The team needed to work more on their passing game now that Don was out for the rest of the season. Zach had a lot of tricks in his playbook and running the Pistol offense was one of them. He’d talk to the other coaches, but it was a lot easier to run play action out of the Pistol.
    “Can I have a few friends over while you’re gone?”
    “You need to put the living room back together while I’m gone.”
    Tiffany’s shoulder slumped. “Daddy.”
    He shoved his feet into his black Pumas and bent over to tie the laces. “And the television room is a mess. There are dirty cups and bowls all over the place.”
    “We need a maid,” she said through a long, drawn-out sigh and folded her skinny arms over her skinny chest.
    When Devon had been alive, they’d had a full-time maid. Now they had a maid service once a week. “No.” He stood. “We need you to pick up after yourself.”
    “If I clean up, can I have a get-together?”
    He moved to his dresser and slid his watch onto his wrist. “When and what kind?”
    “Next weekend. The girls from my dance team.”
    Twelve thirteen-year-olds. Twelve emotional thirteen-year-olds prone to high-pitched screaming and drama. Last summer, one of Tiffany’s friends had locked herself in the bathroom with a cell phone and had cried to her boyfriend all day. What was a thirteen-year-old girl doing with a boyfriend anyway? Zach would rather get kicked in the nuts than go through that again. “Next game is on Saturday in Midland. Kickoff ’s at one, so I’ll be leaving Friday sometime.”
    “Is Leanna coming over?” she asked, referring to the neighbor girl Zach hired to stay with Tiffany when he had to go out of town.
    “Yep.”
    “Cool. Can I have my party Sunday? You’ll be home.”
    “Honey,” he said through a sigh, “I’m