34. Jensen
34
JENSEN
“ N ice work, ladies! Do it again—Parker, stay on number eleven,” Nessa shouts as she claps and paces the sideline. She’s fucking magnificent to watch, and I’d been on the edge of my seat since the first whistle sounded.
The excited whispering hasn’t stopped either. Nessa’s more a celebrity than she realizes, especially in Tennessee.
The goalie on the opposing team kicks the ball downfield, the momentum taking it spiraling off course toward the sidelines. An audible gasp sounds as the crowd watches its descent with rapt attention, the ball seemingly making a beeline for Nessa.
She barely reacts, one hand in her pocket, as she traps the ball with ease and brings it to a stop before doing some fancy footwork that would probably give me a hernia, then passing it off to one of her players for a throw-in.
“She’s awesome, isn’t she,” the woman sidling up next to me says, and I have to do a double take before it registers who I’m looking at.
Kinsley Dane, forward for the Tennessee Tornadoes and Nessa’s best friend. She’s stunning, her long black hair pulled up in a sleek ponytail, her dark eyes sparkling as she assesses me.
“She is,” I say, holding out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you in person. Jensen.”
“Kinsley. And likewise, Sheriff. Video chat doesn’t do you justice.” I snort as she points to Remi. “May I?”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” I say, her smile softening as she sees my hesitation.
“I just missed my girl.” Her small shrug is endearing, the tiniest hint of vulnerability in the motion. It’s deliberate—an offering—because as I’ve learned from Nessa, Kinsley doesn’t just offer that to anyone. They are very much alike in that way.
“Thank you.” Unclipping the carrier, I maneuver my daughter into Kinsley’s waiting arms. “Remi is really lucky to have you and Nessa. I just… thank you.” My words get stuck in my throat, the surge of emotion unexpected.
“Aw Sheriff, you big softie,” she teases as she tickles Remi’s belly, making Remi look at her with big blue eyes and a wide, gummy smile. “He is, isn’t he? Yes, he is!”
She coos at my daughter, and I can’t help the way my lips twitch as my gaze returns to the field. Nessa yells, moving down the sideline as one of the girls kicks the ball up the field to her teammate who fakes out a defender and takes the shot.
“GOAL!” Kinsley whoops, lifting Remi’s little arm to cheer.
Nessa claps and pumps her fist, high-fiving the girls on the sideline before subbing them out with the ones on the field and repeating the celebration.
“Can you believe Nessa Hart is coaching right now?” one of girls on the other side of Kinsley says reverently.
“Number thirty-two has my heart!” Kinsley yells, causing Nessa to whip around to face us, her smile wide as she waves. The girls next to Kinsley turn toward her, and the one stumbles into the other.
“Oh my God! ” she squeals as her friend gapes with her mouth open. “You’re Kinsley Dane. Can we have your autograph?”
Kinsley smiles wide as she hands Remi to me and chats with the girls, laughing and taking selfies before wishing them a happy holiday and turning back to me, the ease she’d had a few minutes before a memory as she watches the game.
I hate that for her.
And Nessa.
“I get it,” I offer quietly. “Although when I’m giving someone my autograph, it usually means I’m giving them a ticket, so it’s not quite the same excitement level.”
Glancing at me from the side she gives me a single nod, an acknowledgment of thanks—like she’d offered me the same, small comfort earlier.
And we stand like that for the rest of the game, cheering Nessa on and watching as the Blackstone University Lions win their final game of their season.
NESSA
Kinsley had the girls absolutely tongue-tied when she joined us on the field after the game. She didn’t know the players’ names, but she complimented every goal, assist, and play on the field and I loved her for it.
And I loved this team.
They weren’t mine.
I’d barely had a week with them but my heart had been happier and my soul lighter than it had been in a long time.
It didn’t make sense. Soccer had always been my life—my dream.
But this small and seemingly insignificant opportunity had awakened something inside me that I couldn’t explain.
“Coach! We did it!” Alana squeals as she wraps me in a hug.
Coach.
“ You did it,” I reply, my smile real and taking over my face. “You all did it, and I’m so damn proud of you!”
Joy radiates through me as I look at each one of the girls who played their last game of the season like it was the semifinals and championship all wrapped into one. They’re tired and sweaty but they’re happy and already chattering about dinner at Rayne’s house.
“Coach, you and Kinsley are coming to dinner, right?” Parker’s wide eyes are pleading, and it doesn’t take long for the rest of them to join in.
“Oh, what the hell,” Kinsley says with a shrug, “let’s go.” She laughs as cheers erupt around us.
They scatter to clean up the equipment as I turn to my best friend. “Are you sure you want to head over there?”
“This is important for them and for you so yes, but then you owe me chocolate lava cakes so we can eat them in bed while we binge watch whatever is on.”
“Deal.” I grin and then blush as I catch Jensen’s eyes across the field. Kinsley snorts as her gaze follows mine before pushing me toward him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Uh-huh. Take your time.”
Hustling over, I pepper kisses all over Remi’s cheeks and forehead. She reaches for me and I pull her against me for a much-needed hug.
“You were incredible out there.”
“They made it easy.”
He rolls his lips inward, the action an obvious avoidance for what he really wants to say. But I let it go.
With all the chaos tonight, it’s not something I want to get into.
“I’m taking Kinsley with me to the team dinner at Rayne’s parents’ house and then we’ll be home. I promised her lava cake.”
“Order it from the Iron Cask,” he says, a smile playing at his lips. “I’d do it for you but that’s not a wait-around dessert.”
“You’re a smart man, Sheriff,” I concede as I snuggle Remi closer, using her to keep the space between me and Jensen.
I need it because all of this feels too good, and even if I like it, I’m still leaving in a matter of weeks. His life is here and mine is in Nashville and on the road.
“Are you gonna kiss her or what, Sheriff?” Kinsley says as she sidles up next to me, pulling me from my thoughts and hammering home just how precarious our situation is.
Jensen’s eyes widen the slightest bit like he’d forgotten we had an audience here. While things had heated up in the privacy of his home, we never talked about what we were doing. Making out in the darkened parking lot of Darling Farms aside, we’d kept things platonic in public.
Glancing around, I shake my head. “Save it for later. There are too many people, and even though they’ve been respectful, you don’t need anyone knocking on your door when I’m gone, looking for a story.”
The lightness that had been in the air evaporates, my stomach bottoming out when the light in Jensen’s blue eyes dims. I don’t want to hurt him, but dammit, I told him this was a bad idea.
“Well then, let me squish my niece while you two make eyes at each other,” Kinsley says as she plucks Remi from my arms and steps away.
“I’m not doing it to be a bitch,” I say quietly so only Jensen can hear me. “I just want to protect you.”
“It’s always been my job,” he replies, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Don’t much care for it in reverse.”
“Well, Sheriff,” I purr as I take a small step forward, “why don’t you think about something else you’d like in reverse and we can discuss it tomorrow?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Miss Hart.” His lips twitch and I like that I was the one to do it. I also know what those lips and that mouth are capable of, so I’m sure that factors in too.
“All right, friends,” Kinsley says with a flourish as she hands Remi back to Jensen, “we have plans and then lava cake.”
Taking my hand, I giggle as she leads me out of the complex and toward the parking lot. The cool air is like a balm, calming my racing heart and letting me see things a little clearer.
Too bad I like the lust-filled Jensen version better.
”Do you want to talk about it?” Kinsley asks as she buckles her seatbelt and turns to look at me.
“About what?” I’m not avoiding the question; I just genuinely need to know which it she means.
“Coaching.” Her fingers tap out a rhythm on her thigh as she meets my gaze. “And how it’s the happiest I’ve seen you, second only to the way you looked with Remi and Jensen after the game.”
Looking out the windshield, I don’t answer right away, but when I do, my voice is quiet. “I forgot what it’s like to just want to play the game. They have dreams and aspirations, Kins, and I envy them for that.”
Her expression is sympathetic and I don’t know how I feel about it. “It’s okay to want new things. Soccer has been your personality your entire life, and it’s made you an incredible athlete.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “But you’re more than a job, and at the end of the day—that’s really what soccer is for us. And” she adds slowly, “if you wanted to coach you’d still be able to live and breathe it, just in a way you want, not the way we have to.”
Her words resonate deep inside me, but like so much tonight, now is not the time to dwell on the what-ifs and maybes . If I have any chance of making it through tonight, I need to push all of the wondering aside and enjoy what little time I have left here.
Clearing my throat, I start the car, and “Who’s Your Daddy?” by Toby Keith comes on, sending us both into a fit of giggles.
“This seems fitting,” I muse and she snickers. “And since I still know nothing about your repeat bedmate, it’s time to spill.”
She snickers but she’s practically bouncing in her seat. “Well…”