Pumpkin Spice Spice Baby: The Coffee Loft (Fall Collection)

1. Tasha

CHAPTER 1

Tasha

Mid-May

I tapped my toes on the mat, the light thump thump of my cheer shoe muffled by the surrounding din. The team announcements were well underway, and my coaching partner hadn’t arrived yet.

The cheer gym at the Plex is large and loud. And on Team Reveal Day, the sound within the vaulted ceilings over the four cheer floors and tumbling area reached record decibels on the Screaming Girl O-Meter.

Having been part of the sport of cheerleading since I was a preschooler, I was neither surprised nor bothered by the racket. I was even the one to start it sometimes. But today, I was preoccupied with Nate’s absence. This would be our second year coaching together, and we had a title to defend.

What could be keeping him? I lifted on my toes to peer at the staff door for the umpteenth time.

It was opening …

There he was! Phew! Nate caught my gaze and waved as he squeezed along the wall toward me, absently high-fiving as he waded through the athletes and parents between us.

Wait a sec.

A few feet behind him, another guy was easing his way through the crowd of athletes of all ages, dressed in the same FireVolts tee and red shorts as Nate. His familiar blond hair and bulky build took my Nate-is-late anxiety to a whole other level.

What was Montgomery Biddington doing here? And wearing our team’s official shirt?

I was sure he said he’d be here less often this year. Due to his new job as Number Three Ridgie, the backup to the backup mascot for Denver’s NHL team, Monty said he didn’t have time to coach cheer teams anymore. Private tumbling lessons only.

“Hey.” Nate arrived by my side, breathing easy. “I was?—”

“You’re late.” I shook my finger at him. “Our team is two away.”

His cheerful expression dropped. “About that … I found out this morning I got the internship with one of the physical therapists here at the Plex.”

“For the fall?” I asked. That was a big deal, but his tone was suspect. I lifted my chin and forced myself to smile. “Congratulations!”

Nate shook his head. “I start next week.”

I pulled my lips into my teeth and waited for him to say more.

He squirmed a little. “It’s full-time.”

“Great!” I replied. “No more money worries, and you can still coach at night.”

He blinked, then turned his head back toward the crowd. I followed his gaze. Monty was getting closer to where we coaches stood behind the popup stage, waiting for the emcee to announce our teams.

“Tasha, I…” Nate began. I turned my head to look at him. He was frowning. Not a good sign. “The hiring manager said that my schedule would be erratic, and he recommended that I not coach a team this year. So … I had to give up my position coaching the Worlds team with you.”

I was the one blinking now. “You’re serious?”

He nodded. “They want me to work with the trainers for the Voltage.”

My mouth dropped open. The Voltage was the Denver Edge’s minor league hockey team, and they were based here in our hometown of Palmer City. Their practice rink was at the Plex—a hop, skip, and a jump from where we were standing.

“So you can miss some practices,” I suggested. There had to be work-arounds. “I can take the athletes to the comps by myself. We’ll make it work.”

He shook his head. “I suggested that. This is an all-in or all-out opportunity. I’m so sorry, Tasha.”

“B-but,” I stammered as his solution seeped in. “Who—” I paused as he turned his head toward Monty. “No. Uh-uh. Not him. Anyone but him.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I suppressed a shudder.

Nate swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing while he chose his words. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, locking his gaze on mine. I saw the sympathy and regret, and I honestly felt a little bad for the guy. He knew about my past with Monty. There really had to be no other option.

“Tasha, he was the only one available…” He let his se ntence trail off, unable to retrieve any additional words that might pacify me.

“Not entirely available.” Monty stepped into place next to Nate and crossed his beefy arms over his muscular chest. “But someone had to get you both out of this bind. We can’t be canceling our Worlds team. Not when we’re defending champions. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the athletes, you know? I worked too hard getting their tumbling skills almost as good as mine over the last year.”

I rolled my eyes. Humble he wasn’t.

“We’re grateful to you, Monty. For sure,” Nate said.

“Speak for yourself,” I mumbled.

Monty’s full lips spread into a wide grin. “It’ll be like old times, Tasha. We can play Good Coach/Bad Coach just like when we used to run the summer camps.”

That was forever ago, back when we were friends.

I cleared my throat and let my voice drip with sarcasm. “Sounds like a blast.”

“That’s the spirit,” he chimed. “Oh, and we’ll have to tweak the practice schedule. I have forty-one home games plus NHL All-Star Weekend and other team obligations. Plus Nana Booboo’s rehab. She’ll be at Mountainview Manor’s rehabilitation facility for some time, and I like to be there for her therapy appointments. I’m a busy guy. You understand.”

I softened my expression out of respect for his Nana Booboo. Monty’s grandmother had suffered a stroke recently, but the doctors were confident she’d make a full recovery. I hoped so, with all my heart. She was his nana, but she was our cheer nana. Monty had started the sport not long after I had, and Nana Booboo had brought him to every camp, practice, and competition until he could drive himself .

It was at the Plex she got the “Booboo” tag to her name. Monty was always pushing himself to be the best. Every time he hurt himself, he’d run to Nana and cry, “Nana! Booboo!” and she’d kiss it better. At some point during that first year, we were all calling her Nana Booboo and asking for get-better kisses. She was always happy to oblige.

Nana was also a frequent customer at my day job, the Coffee Loft. I credit Nana for my addiction to pumpkin spice lattes. She encouraged me to apply there when I was looking for my first job, and I’ve been there ever since. These days, I worked the opening until midafternoon shift, then drove to the high school to coach the varsity cheerleading squad. And two nights a week, I was here. This past year, I’d coached two competitive cheer teams here at the Plex, four nights each week, and it had been too much on top of everything else. The Worlds team was relatively easy; the members were older, mostly college students and cheerleading lifers, and they took direction like pros.

“Our turn.” Monty gave my bicep a gentle nudge with his elbow. “C’mon, work wifey.”

“I am not your work wifey.” I shot him a glare and focused on the emcee.

“And now, on to our final team, the FireVolts, coached by Tasha and Monty! Defending their Worlds Championship this year will be…”

The heads of the veteran FireVolts, gathered in front of the stage, swung to Monty. I noted surprise on their faces, and rightly so. We all expected Nate to be their coach again.

Monty and I jogged up the steps to the stage as the athletes’ numbers were called. About two-thirds were veterans of last year’s team. Two were newcomers from a rival gym, and a few had moved up from the senior teams. Nate and I had been super selective while also recognizing potential and coachability when we were choosing the members. No bad attitudes or drama allowed.

Nate worked his way through the group that gathered around us, sharing about his new position and confidently endorsing Monty as just what the team needed to level up. Most of them knew him already and welcomed him with open arms.

But Monty wasn’t experienced enough to coach a team at this level. Sure, he could tumble and partner-stunt his way to first place with my cousin Gabby, but he’d never coached a whole team of athletes around his own age, in their early to mid-twenties. We’d turn twenty-five in January. Our Worlds team featured men and women ages eighteen through twenty-seven, and they deserved a coach of their caliber to ensure their winning streak remained intact.

I snuck a glance at Monty, chest out, shoulders back, practically oozing confidence, and sighed.

“You owe me big time,” I mumbled to Nate.

“You’ll be fine, Tasha. And maybe you two will become friends again.”

“Unlikely.” That would require Monty earning my trust back.

Never. Gonna. Happen.

Nate laughed. “So there’s a chance. Good.” He leaned over me to get closer to my ear. “I think he needs something like this to get his mind off his grandmother’s recovery. I got the sense she’s not doing well.”

My eyes widened, and I whipped my gaze over to my archenemy. I might not like him anymore, but Monty’s Nana Booboo was one of my favorite people in the whole world .

If coaching a team with him could help her in any way, I’d get through it.

I might even try to be civil to him.

Might.