Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
What were they talking about over there?
Why was Jeanie Newcombe taking a picture of Greta?
I could barely focus on the swimmers. My attention kept getting diverted to the laughing women in the bleachers.
Not to mention the fact that Greta looked more gorgeous that even in that top of hers.
The red brought out the blue in her eyes and the way her dark curls cascaded over her shoulders and hung just above her breasts—I’d be using this as new spank bank material for fucking sure.
“Coach Deacon?” My attention was once again pulled away from the beauty in the stands and back to my job.
“Hmm?” I asked, hoping the kid hadn’t said my name too many times, and I’d just ignored them. I glanced down to find Samuel, a shy kid who was an okay swimmer but very eager to get better, staring up at me from the pool, blood pouring down his face. “Oh shit!”
“Marty and I uh … we bumped heads. I think my nose is bleeding.”
“Fuck. Yeah, buddy, it’s bleeding. Come on, up you get. I reached down and hooked my hands under his arms and hoisted him out of the pool. His mother was already rushing toward us.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Marty and I bonked heads in the pool,” Samuel said again. “Is it bad?”
It probably wasn’t that bad, but all the blood made it look bad. I caught the attention of one of the other coaches and asked them to watch my team while I escorted Samuel and his mother over to the first aid room where another lifeguard would help him.
“Why weren’t you watching them?” his mother—Cynthia—scolded me as we shuffled across the wet pool deck.
“I … I lifted my head up for a second,” I stammered. “I swear.”
“It wasn’t Coach Deacon’s fault,” Samuel said, accepting the towel from his mother and holding it under his nose. “Marty swerved and bonked me. He entered my lane.”
“Even so,” Cynthia huffed. “It’s the coach’s job to catch this stuff and pay attention.”
She wasn’t wrong. However, the kids had their faces and ears under the water. How the hell was I supposed to yell at them and warn them when they were in the middle of the pool and I was on the deck?
I was, admittedly, distracted by Greta being in the stands, however.
I needed to get a handle on my crush. It was getting worse.
I saw the woman three days a week, two hours a day.
She was all I thought about. I woke up thinking about her and went to bed thinking about her.
I didn’t even have it this bad for her when I was fifteen.
Back then, I didn’t even know what love was, and now that I knew, I knew beyond any doubt that I was madly in love with Mrs. Robinson.
“You’re going to be okay, buddy,” I said to Samuel, getting him seated on the bench inside the first aid room.
“Eddie here is going to take good care of you.” I slapped Eddie kindly on the back and smiled at him, then turned to Samuel’s angry mother.
“Probably best to call it a day for practice. Having his head down in the water, along with the blood rush from exercise, could cause the bleeding to start again.”
Cynthia huffed at me. “So now he misses practice because of you?”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Weaver. If you’d like to schedule a time outside today where I meet Samuel for some one-on-one coaching to make up for it, we can over the holidays. You can email me.”
The change in her expression was pretty hilarious. “Oh! Well … thank you. That would be very nice.”
It wasn’t something I had to offer. Injuries and illnesses happened.
It was just part of life and sports. But this mom sat on the board for the swimming club and could very easily make my life a living hell.
She was also one of those parents who were clearly living vicariously through her child, convinced he was going to be the next multi-medal Olympian.
Samuel was a good swimmer, but he wasn’t the next Michael Phelps.
I smiled and nodded. “Just shoot me an email and we’ll make it work. ”
I ruffled Samuel’s already-drying short hair. “Take it easy, buddy. Feel better.”
“Thanks, Coach Deacon. I will.” He gave me a thumbs up, and I gave him one back before taking my leave of them and returning to the deck.
I tried so hard for the rest of practice not to let my gaze drift to Greta, but as hard as I tried, I failed so fucking miserably. It was ridiculous.
Practice ended, and the kids all climbed out of the water, making their way to the hot tub. “How’s the little guy with the nosebleed?” Jeanie asked, Greta beside her as they gathered all of their stuff to follow the kids to the hot tub.
“He’ll live to swim another day,” I said.
“We watched it happen, and it was brutal,” Greta said. “That other little guy, the one in the blue suit, veered into the nosebleed kid’s lane and crash. Practically heard the cartilage crunch from up in the stands.”
That made me chuckle, but also feel guilty that I’d been watching Greta and not my swim team when it happened.
“Kids are tough,” Jeanie said. “Now he’s got a cool story to tell his friends.”
Greta and I met each other’s gazes and smiled, her eyes glittering like blue gems beneath the lighting. “What are your plans for the holiday?” I asked, making sure both women thought I was asking them.
“My parents have a cabin in the Snoqualmie Pass that we go to every year,” Jeanie said. “So we’re heading there. Their dad has them for New Year’s, though.”
“Quiet party of two this year,” Greta said. “But it’ll be nice. I told Kira we could just stay in our pajamas all day, and I’d even let her have some Irish cream in her morning tea.”
“What about you?” Jeanie asked me.
Greta’s eyes turned sad because she already knew the answer to that.
I shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I’ve got a couple of papers to write. I’ll probably spend a lot of time in the lab, too.”
“Yeah, but where are your parents? Your family?” Jeanie pressed.
I shrugged again. “They’ve got their own lives, just like I’ve got mine. Dad’s already in Thailand with Brandi, and Mom and her sister are going on a cruise. And my brother is heading to Boston to be with his girlfriend and her family.”
Jeanie’s mouth dipped into a frown. “You mean you’re all alone?”
“I happen to like my own company.”
“Yeah, but on Christmas?” Then she swatted Greta on the arm. “You should invite him over to your house for dinner.”
Greta’s mouth dropped open. “Uh.”
I quickly shook my head. “No. No. It’s fine. I will be perfectly fine on my own. I’ve had twenty-one family-filled Christmases. It’s okay. I will survive.” I focused on Greta now. “Don’t let her bully you into inviting an unwanted guest into your home out of pity.”
That made Greta smirk. “It wouldn’t be pity.”
“Of course not,” Jeanie said. “And you wouldn’t be unwanted. You’re the most well-liked coach, by kids and parents.” She dropped her voice to a whisper on that last bit to not to offend the other nearby coaches. “Just bring a side dish. You can cook, can’t you?”
“I can,” I said slowly.
“Then it’s settled. You’re going to go over to Greta and Kira’s for Christmas dinner. Bring a … what?” She turned to Greta, who looked even more railroaded than I felt. “What can he bring?”
“Uh … mashed potatoes?” Greta finally said.
“Perfect. Deacon, you bring the mashed potatoes. You can find her address on the team roster.” Jeanie grinned at both of us, so proud of herself.
“I just hate to hear of people being alone on Christmas. I mean, seriously, if I knew my ex wasn’t already going to spend it with his parents, I’d have probably invited him up to my parents’ cabin because as much as that man drives me nuts, nobody should be alone on Christmas.
” Then, before we could say another word, she flashed us both a giant smile and took off to go gather her child, leaving Greta and me standing there, shanghaied, speechless and extremely uncomfortable.
* * *
School was over for the semester now. I wrote my last exam, then hopped on my bike and raced through the city to the rec center for the swim meet.
Thankfully, one of the other coaches was going to help my team until I arrived a little late.
By the looks of the schedule, the team I coached would have only competed once while I was gone; the rest they would race while I was there.
Locking my bike up, I dodged the icy raindrops that had already attempted to shred my face on the ride, and ran inside the rec center, not even bothering to stop in at the change room to drop off my stuff first. I booked it onto the pool deck to the raucous cheering of parents and spectators as a race was just about over.
It was the younger kids racing, not my crew.
Ditching my bag, coat, shoes and helmet in the pile of other coaches’ gear, I shook my hair clean of the raindrops, and visually sought out my team.
They were all sitting in a corner wrapped in their terry cloth swim covers and towels, silicone caps on their heads, goggles on their foreheads, watching their teammates compete.
Kira was in the mix, so without even thinking about it, my gaze slid to the bleachers to seek out Greta.
She was there with Jeanie, both of them cheering on Maria as she swam the last few meters of her breaststroke.
She would not win, but she had a solid hold on third place. Fourth place was way back.
The winner reached the end, followed by second place—neither of them from our team or town—and then it was Maria.
Jeanie and Greta both stood up and cheered even louder, which prompted the little redhead in the water to turn toward her mom and go absolutely scarlet in the cheeks, but she was smiling and that was what mattered.
I turned back to face my team. “Sorry I’m late, guys.”
“How was your exam, Coach Deacon?” one of the kids asked.
“Tough, but I think I did okay,” I said. “How was your first race?”