Chapter Two
Quinton Evans blew his whistle and pointed to the practice equipment spread around the football field. The fifty-plus kids on the field stopped chatting and horsing around and looked his way. “Be sure to get this equipment put up before you leave for the day. And be careful. If we don’t respect our equipment, then no one else will.”
His request was met with several nods, thumbs-up and “Got it, Coach” before they immediately began gathering the cones and practice balls. Quinton’s lips twitched. If he was a grinning man, that quick response might have resulted in a big one. The fast movement by the players wouldn’t have happened when he first started coaching football at Peachtree Cove High School four years ago. Back then, he’d inherited a team that was undisciplined and disorganized. Turning them to the organized, focused team in front of him today had taken patience and determination. The team still wasn’t perfect, but they were a much better functioning group than before.
Zachariah Grooms, the defense coach, walked over to Quinton. The tall white guy was two years older than Quinton’s thirty-six years and had been the defensive coordinator at Peachtree Cove High for ten years.
Zachariah stood next to Quinton, crossed his arms and watched the kids on the field. “What are you thinking?”
Quinton adjusted his Peachtree High baseball cap and squinted despite the aviator shades he wore to block the bright afternoon sun as he observed his team. “We’ve got some good players coming up from middle school. That should help the JV team. But it’s still several weeks before the season starts. We’ll see how they all shake out as we run drills.”
Zachariah nodded. “What do you think of Octavius? He was wide receiver at the middle school over in Atlanta before moving to Peachtree Cove.”
Quinton’s eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on the young boy. Like other high school coaches, he paid attention to the kids making waves in middle school sports. He’d heard about Octavius and had been pleased when he’d learned the boy had moved to Peachtree Cove. But Quinton tried to avoid playing favorites. He’d been overlooked enough in high school and understood how demoralizing it was to be ignored because you didn’t have enough “star power.” He’d earned every starting position he had from school sports to the eight years he’d played professionally and expected the kids he coached to work just as hard to earn a position on his team.
“He’ll have to try for the starting position like everyone else,” Quinton said.
Zachariah laughed and shook his head. “You can play cool with me all you want, but I know you’re excited to have him on our JV team. You know, when the district brought you in I thought it was just because your time in the pros would help motivate kids to play.”
“And now?” Quinton asked, raising a brow.
Though he already knew the answer. Winning Zachariah’s respect had taken nearly as long as it had taken him to turn the team atmosphere around. Zachariah had wanted the head coach position and had made sure Quinton was aware he didn’t appreciate being overlooked for some fancy former professional player. He’d proven his coaching abilities to Zachariah while also respecting the man’s knowledge of the team’s history.
“And now I’m glad to know I was right,” Zachariah said, laughing. “Kids are ready to move here to play for a guy who was a professional. Not only that, you’re winning games. If we keep this up, we’ll get more kids like Octavius moving here.”
Quinton shook his head. “I came here because I wanted to show these kids they can make it despite playing for a small rural school. Not just to draw star players.”
After eight years of playing and working his way to being a starting receiver, Quinton made the decision to retire from playing professionally. Though he didn’t have any championship rings, he’d made it to the Pro Bowl twice, and had been named as one of the best wide receivers in the league. More than what most people had expected of him when he’d been pushed aside and underestimated back in high school. When he turned thirty-two and his contract was up for renewal, he’d decided he had nothing else to prove. He’d walked away from playing, and his coaching career had begun.
“Giving back is cool and all, but I’m good with having you draw the top players,” Zachariah said. “In another year or so, we’ll be able to beat Peach Ridge.”
Quinton grunted. “I don’t give a damn about Peach Ridge. I care about winning our division.”
Zachariah grinned and shook his head. “You can care about our division, but the people in this town only care about our rival school.”
“They aren’t a real rival,” Quinton said, irritated.
Peach Ridge High wasn’t in their state much less the division. The decades-old rivalry between Peachtree Cove, Georgia, and Peach Ridge, South Carolina, wasn’t something he understood or cared about. But the rivalry about which town produces the best peaches had spilled into almost everything. Including having a rivalry match between the two high school football teams that started twenty years ago and continued to this day. Quinton could win all the division games he liked, but until their high school beat Peach Ridge High, he was still considered a probationary coach.
“Real rival or not, now that we beat out Peach Ridge as a finalist for Best Small Town, everyone wants to cap it off with beating Peach Ridge High in football this year as well.”
Quinton waved a hand. “Whatever, man. Let’s wrap this up and get out of here. I see parents arriving to pick up their kids. I’m sure some of them want to talk about my plans for this year.”
Zachariah clapped Quinton’s shoulders. “Better you than me.”
Quinton cocked his head to the side and pointed at Zachariah. “I thought you wanted to be head coach?”
Zachariah shook his head. “Nah, man, that’s all you.” He turned to the players and clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s wrap this up.”
Quinton chuckled to himself as Zachariah hurried away to help the rest of the team. He didn’t blame him. Some parents made this job harder than it needed to be. Zachariah didn’t want to be in the hot seat, but Quinton knew he and the rest of the coaches would back him up if any parent got out of line.
Quinton joined him, the rest of the coaching staff and kids getting the equipment put up and everyone ready to leave for the day. Even though he was tired after running a few laps with his team, the familiar thrill of excitement from the approach of a new football season kept his steps light. He loved the start of football season. He lived for this. The camaraderie and competition that seemed only to come when he was standing on a football field. His days of playing had ended, but this love of the sport never would. Now he got to lay the foundation for the next generation of potential professional players. Though he didn’t like to get ahead of himself, he saw the same drive he’d had to prove himself in some of the players on his team. Those kids might one day walk in his footsteps.
There were a few parents waiting to talk to him. Thankfully, most were just wishing him well and asking how they could help. He directed the helpful ones to the booster club president, Cheryl Green, and accepted the well wishes of the others. After that, he made sure the gate to the field was locked and the locker rooms were clear before going to his Range Rover parked in the head coach’s spot. He was ready to shower, rest and then meet up with his friend Brian later at their mutual friend Cyril’s bar, A Couple of Beers.
“Excuse me, Coach Quinton, do you have a moment?” a woman’s voice called from behind.
Quinton cursed underneath his breath. He’d thought he’d spoken to all the parents who’d waited around for him. Sliding his shades farther up the bridge of his nose, he pushed back any irritation at being delayed. He turned and was surprised to find Halle Parker power walking in his direction. He glanced over her shoulder and spotted her daughter, Shania, standing next to their car with a hand over her face.
Halle was the middle school principal and involved in almost every event that happened in Peachtree Cove. She was smart, enthusiastic about giving back, and could be considered overbearing or dedicated depending on which side of an issue you stood. Her dedication to making Peachtree Cove better and her daughter being the only girl on his team weren’t the only reasons he’d noticed her. Halle was the kind of woman who made a man stop talking in the middle of a sentence to focus on her. She was little over average height, cocoa-brown skin with full breasts, hips and thighs that made his stomach drop. Quinton was a sucker for a full-figured woman.
“Ms. Parker? Is everything alright?” he asked hesitantly. Though he noticed Halle whenever she was in his vicinity, he rarely interacted with her. Outside of school district-wide trainings, they didn’t hang with the same crowd. Her daughter played, but from what he knew, Halle hadn’t been overly involved in the team when Shania played in middle school. She’d come to the initial parents’ meeting before summer conditioning and practice began, but that was it. She wasn’t a hovering football parent.
Halle stopped a few feet in front of him. She wore a black blazer over a white button-up blouse that revealed just enough of a V of brown skin above her cleavage to make his eyes want to linger, and fitted pants that weren’t at all indecent but hugged her ass just enough to elicit thoughts of what it would be like to cup said ass. The idea of wearing a suit in this summer heat made him hot, but she somehow managed to look cool and sophisticated. Or maybe that was just Halle. Always in control and put together.
“Yes, I want to talk to you about Shania.” Dark brown eyes stared directly at his, even though she would only see herself reflected in his shades.
He glanced over her shoulder again at Shania, then back at Halle. He relaxed a little but kept his guard up. Parents approached him for a variety of reasons. Some just wanted to know how they could help the team. Others approached to tell him why their kid was the best football player since Deion Sanders. Then there were those who approached to point out all the things he was doing wrong before making suggestions on what he should do instead. He could only imagine Halle approaching him for the first reason over the other two. Unless there was a problem.
“Is there something wrong?”
Halle held up a hand, palm out, and gave a quick shake of her head. “No problems. In fact, Shania is enjoying summer practice.”
The tension in his shoulders eased a little more. Girls playing football in middle and high school wasn’t as rare as it had been when he’d played in school, but it was still rare enough that they got challenged for daring to play with boys. Many of the freshman boys had played with Shania in middle school, but there weren’t any other girls on the team. If any of the players had given her a hard time, he would deal with it personally. Bullying, of any kind, was a hard-line no for him and not just because of his own experiences being bullied when he was younger.
“That’s good to hear.”
“Don’t worry. If there were any problems, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. I made sure to raise Shania to speak up for herself.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn’t doubt that any child of Halle Parker’s would be afraid to speak up. In his few years in Peachtree Cove, he had yet to see Halle back down from anything. She was the one most likely to lead the charge.
“I’ve told all the players that they can come to me with any issues. I don’t tolerate bad grades, bad attitudes, or bad decisions. If you’re going to play for me, you’re going to represent me and this team both on and off the field.”
She blinked, and appreciation filled her eyes before she nodded. “I didn’t know that about you. I thought most coaches only cared about winning.”
The wind blew her curly hair into her face, and she pushed it aside. He’d noticed she typically wore her hair twisted up in a lot of fancy hairstyles. He liked it better like this, wild and curly.
His shoulders stiffened. Why was he thinking about her hair? She’d low-key insulted him. He tried not to take offense at her words. The previous coach had put up with almost any type of behavior as long as the team won. Unfortunately, they hadn’t won much of anything and they hadn’t cared about much either.
“Not all coaches are the same.”
She nodded. “I’ll remember that. My apologies if I offended you.” Full lips lifted in a smile that made his stomach clench and almost got him to smile back.
“You didn’t. If Shania is all good, then what can I help you with?” He took them back to the point. He could look at Halle’s pretty face all day, but he was also ready to get in his car, get showered and get on with his day.
Halle crossed her arms and gave him a determined look. “It’s about the position Shania will play.”
“I haven’t decided who will play what just yet,” he jumped in before she could continue. He gave this same speech at the start of each season. “The first few weeks are conditioning, just to get them used to working out and introducing them to a few plays. When we get into running drills and plays, everyone will have a chance to try out for any position they like and then me and the coaching staff will decide who is best for what spot.”
He kept his voice pleasant but firm. He liked and respected Halle as a teacher and was definitely attracted to her but wouldn’t reveal his thoughts on team positions until he’d had a chance to evaluate everyone. He would give Shania a fair chance just as he would any other player, but he couldn’t run the risk of favoritism toward Shania if he didn’t give Halle the same story he gave every other parent.
“That’s all well and good, but I want Shania to be wide receiver.”
“Did you not hear what I just said about my process?”
“I did, and I’m telling you she wants to play wide receiver. And she wants to start.” Halle lifted her chin. Her voice had gone from casual into a clipped and professional tone. He’d heard that before. Her Principal Parker voice.
“She will get a chance just like everyone else.” He matched her Principal Knows Best tone with his own this-isn’t-up-for-debate coach’s tone.
Once again, her hand flew up in a stop position, cutting him off before he could say more. “I get it. You have to be fair. But I am going to do whatever I can to help Shania. If that means lessons or some sort of camp, let me know. You’re a coach, so coach her. I’m sure we can work together to come up with a plan to make this happen.”
Quinton blinked. Surprised and irritated that she spoke to him as if he didn’t know what the job of coach meant. “I’m going to coach Shania just like I’d coach anyone else. I don’t give preferential treatment.”
“I’m not asking for preferential treatment. I’m saying you know my daughter’s goals, so I expect you, as her coach, to help her meet her goals. That is your job, right?”
Quinton shifted his stance and crossed his arms. “My job is to do what’s best for the team. All players, not just one or two.”
“I understand. As a principal, I care about the well-being of all my students. My job is to help them. When there are students who come to me with a specific goal in mind, then it’s also my job to help that student achieve that goal. I’m not asking you to automatically make her starting wide receiver. I am asking that you take her dream seriously and help her. If she needs to work on something, I want to know. If there is a way she can improve, tell me. Is that asking you to do anything extra or not in your job description?” She raised a brow and her chin with the question.
Quinton clenched his teeth. She wasn’t asking for anything more. If a kid came to him and asked how to get better, he’d work with them. Halle’s lecture put him on the defensive. And made him aware of just how sexy she looked when her eyes sparked with determination and challenge.
“Ms. Parker, I won’t tell you how to be a principal if you don’t tell me how to coach football. I’ve played football since I was four in the pee-wee leagues. I know how to instruct and help players improve. Your advice is heard, but not needed. Now, if you don’t have anything else to say, I’ve got other places to be.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly before she asked, “Are you like this because she’s a girl?”
Quinton studied her for several long seconds before slowly pulling off his shades. He squinted at Halle and replied in a low, measured tone that barely hid the irritation crawling over him at her accusation. “I’m going to treat Shania like any other player on this team. If she wants to be a receiver, then she has to show me that she can run plays and catch the ball. Don’t ever question my integrity like that again.”
Halle unflinchingly returned his stare before the corner of her lip lifted in a smug smirk. “I’m glad to see that I haven’t completely misjudged you. I hope that you’ll take my words to heart. Have a great afternoon, Coach Evans.”
She turned and strode away. Quinton frowned. What the hell had just happened? Had she been testing him?
“It’s Coach Q,” he shot back with the title the kids and everyone else used, thrown off by how quickly she’d switched and ended the conversation.
Halle threw up a hand but didn’t turn around. She walked toward her car, curvy hips swaying with her confident steps. He felt like he’d just been released from a lecture in the principal’s office, and unlike when he’d been called there as a kid, he wanted to go back and have another round. Grunting and scowling, he shoved his shades back on his face and got into his SUV.