business.”
“I’m making it my business. I’m responsible for—”
She interrupted. “You are not. I’m responsible for myself. Thank you for the offer, Heath, but no thank you.”
“Teams’re coming back,” Walt announced. His eyes met Katie’s and glinted with laughter as he murmured, “Great halftime show.”
As they headed to their seats, Heath’s voice carried back to them, “Can you believe how much better she looks out of that ratty old sweater?” and Walt said drily, “You’re thinking about getting her out of all her clothes.”
“Damned right.”
Her eyes met Brad’s for an instant. He said, “He’s right about the sweater, but I should still knock his block off. The worm.”
“A good-looking worm,” she said matter-of-factly.
His head snapped around. “You haven’t fallen for his bull, have you? You’re not taken in by his slick line of—”
“I can spot bull and slick lines.” She acknowledged the return of the older man on the aisle with a smile and a small wave. She dropped her voice. “Though, in fairness, we weren’t meant to hear.”
“You never know with Taub,” Brad said darkly. “He’s got a reputation about women.”
“So do you.”
“I’ve dated some, sure. But—.”
She chuckled, and it sounded good. “Some? How about the entire alphabet, from Audrey to Zaria.”
“Not true. And I have never— I don’t— This is serious, Katie, you’ve got to know, he’s got a bad record with nice, innocent girls.”
“Brad. For heaven’s sake.” Her half chuckle didn’t mask her annoyance. “I’m a grown-up. I hope I’m nice, but
innocent girl
?”
“You might think you—”
The crowd roared around them, coming to their feet.
Brad cursed under his breath. “Totally missed it.”
“You’ll see on the film that Eric Bridge drove the lane, looked like he was going for the shot, no-look passed to the center, who put it in easy.”
He kept his eyes on her for several breaths. “Thanks.” Then turned his attention to the court.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A t the end of the game, Brad went to talk to the home team’s coach.
Katie stood by the bleachers, watching the warmth of the men’s exchange.
“Excuse me, you’re with Coach Spencer from Ashton, aren’t you?”
She turned to see a dark-skinned woman dressed in the home team’s colors of green and white. “Yes, I work in the basketball office with Coach Spencer. I’m Katie Davis.” She extended her hand.
The other woman met it. “I’m Gwen Stasek, Coach Stasek’s wife.”
“Oh.” Katie released her hand. “I don’t know if we can talk—”
“It’s fine,” Heath Taub said, sliding in with a broad smile. “Even if she were Eric Bridge’s mother, you could exchange a civil greeting.”
The woman nodded in reassuring confirmation. “You’re fine with coaches, it’s the prospective recruits and their parents you have to be careful about.”
“I’m mostly in the office, so I’m not as familiar with off-site rules. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
“That does you credit for–”
“Speaking of Eric Bridge’s parents,” Heath interrupted, “they got a chance to see their son have quite a game tonight. Love to see parents’ proud faces after a game like that. They were here, right, Gwen?”
“I’m not pointing them out to you, Heath.”
Katie chuckled at the woman’s bluntness and Heath’s deflation. She assumed her most innocent voice, “I’d point them out to you, Heath, but I don’t want you to be tempted to arrange a way to introduce yourself and get in trouble.”
“You know the fam— You mean you’ve met—.” His mouth was having trouble completing sentences while his brain processed the implications. High schoolers were allowed to visit college campuses at their own expense, and could have contact with the coaching staff and other personnel then. So Katie could have met the Bridges that way – which would mean Eric Bridge was very
“I’m making it my business. I’m responsible for—”
She interrupted. “You are not. I’m responsible for myself. Thank you for the offer, Heath, but no thank you.”
“Teams’re coming back,” Walt announced. His eyes met Katie’s and glinted with laughter as he murmured, “Great halftime show.”
As they headed to their seats, Heath’s voice carried back to them, “Can you believe how much better she looks out of that ratty old sweater?” and Walt said drily, “You’re thinking about getting her out of all her clothes.”
“Damned right.”
Her eyes met Brad’s for an instant. He said, “He’s right about the sweater, but I should still knock his block off. The worm.”
“A good-looking worm,” she said matter-of-factly.
His head snapped around. “You haven’t fallen for his bull, have you? You’re not taken in by his slick line of—”
“I can spot bull and slick lines.” She acknowledged the return of the older man on the aisle with a smile and a small wave. She dropped her voice. “Though, in fairness, we weren’t meant to hear.”
“You never know with Taub,” Brad said darkly. “He’s got a reputation about women.”
“So do you.”
“I’ve dated some, sure. But—.”
She chuckled, and it sounded good. “Some? How about the entire alphabet, from Audrey to Zaria.”
“Not true. And I have never— I don’t— This is serious, Katie, you’ve got to know, he’s got a bad record with nice, innocent girls.”
“Brad. For heaven’s sake.” Her half chuckle didn’t mask her annoyance. “I’m a grown-up. I hope I’m nice, but
innocent girl
?”
“You might think you—”
The crowd roared around them, coming to their feet.
Brad cursed under his breath. “Totally missed it.”
“You’ll see on the film that Eric Bridge drove the lane, looked like he was going for the shot, no-look passed to the center, who put it in easy.”
He kept his eyes on her for several breaths. “Thanks.” Then turned his attention to the court.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A t the end of the game, Brad went to talk to the home team’s coach.
Katie stood by the bleachers, watching the warmth of the men’s exchange.
“Excuse me, you’re with Coach Spencer from Ashton, aren’t you?”
She turned to see a dark-skinned woman dressed in the home team’s colors of green and white. “Yes, I work in the basketball office with Coach Spencer. I’m Katie Davis.” She extended her hand.
The other woman met it. “I’m Gwen Stasek, Coach Stasek’s wife.”
“Oh.” Katie released her hand. “I don’t know if we can talk—”
“It’s fine,” Heath Taub said, sliding in with a broad smile. “Even if she were Eric Bridge’s mother, you could exchange a civil greeting.”
The woman nodded in reassuring confirmation. “You’re fine with coaches, it’s the prospective recruits and their parents you have to be careful about.”
“I’m mostly in the office, so I’m not as familiar with off-site rules. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”
“That does you credit for–”
“Speaking of Eric Bridge’s parents,” Heath interrupted, “they got a chance to see their son have quite a game tonight. Love to see parents’ proud faces after a game like that. They were here, right, Gwen?”
“I’m not pointing them out to you, Heath.”
Katie chuckled at the woman’s bluntness and Heath’s deflation. She assumed her most innocent voice, “I’d point them out to you, Heath, but I don’t want you to be tempted to arrange a way to introduce yourself and get in trouble.”
“You know the fam— You mean you’ve met—.” His mouth was having trouble completing sentences while his brain processed the implications. High schoolers were allowed to visit college campuses at their own expense, and could have contact with the coaching staff and other personnel then. So Katie could have met the Bridges that way – which would mean Eric Bridge was very
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