Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
~DANNY~
Training seemed tough on them. The girls aren’t really all that chatty as they eat at a local pasta spot, fueling up for the game tomorrow. I was talking to August while watching their practice, and he told me where everyone was going to eat afterward and invited me along.
I walk up to the bar where August and some other men are sitting. They have beers in front of them and are watching ESPN highlights. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him before. I think he works with the team, but I’m not sure how.
“Evening, gentlemen.” I drag the barstool away from the bar, causing it to make that squeaky, metal-scraping sound. I cringe.
“Glad you could make it,” August says in a way of greeting. “This is Jase Ford. He’s the goalie coach. He needs a beer more than the rest of us after being yelled at by Hendrix for most of the day.”
Jase laughs and shakes his head. “She’s a tough one, but that’s what makes her such a good goalie,” he says in an English accent.
“She seems like she would be tough. She has to voluntarily spend her game time with balls flying at her at like, what, sixty miles an hour?” I reply as the bartender comes over. “I’ll drink what they are, and I’d like to buy another round.”
He nods and leaves us.
“You’re that reporter,” Jase says.
“Yeah, I am,” I reply, waiting for him to say more.
“You bought me a pint, though, so I guess you’re alright.” He chuckles. “Hendrix isn’t crazy. She’s just dedicated to her sport and her position. She’s a hell of a goalie. I just wish sometimes I could tamp down that attitude a bit.” He chuckles again and shrugs.
“You’re a good man.” August slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about Jase. He’d never call her a lunatic because he used to be a goalie in England. Once upon a time.”
“I may be older than you, pretty boy, but I’m not that old, you wanker.” Jase waves a thank-you to the bartender, who deposits our drinks and leaves. “Are you the Danny Taylor who used to swim?”
I nod, a mile-wide smile crossing my face as I think back to my days in the water. The way I could so easily lose myself in the pool. How it made the whole world melt away along with my troubles.
“Injury sidelined you, huh?” Jase asks.
I nod again. I get the feeling they’ve been here for a bit and have sucked down more than one beer. Jase seems to be in the mood to just talk at me and not really have me add in too much to the conversation.
“I had the same issue. I tore a muscle in my groin and messed up my hips when a striker ran into me. Sidelined my game and made it impossible for me to keep playing. I’ve been out for a while. You were probably just a teenager when I played.”
I look past August to get a good look at him. He’s got some gray in his brown hair. I would gauge that he’s about ten years older than me.
“I’m sorry you were sidelined, but I get it,” I say, lifting my glass to cheers in solidarity.
We clink glasses and August’s phone lights up with the name Maria.
“While you ladies talk about the glory days, I’m going to go answer this,” he says, leaving the stool and heading toward the back of the restaurant.
“The world of sports is full of athletes who used to be able to play,” he says glumly. “Now we just coach—or in your case, write.”
“It is,” I agree, moving down and stealing August’s seat so that we don’t have to talk too loudly over the TVs and noise of the restaurant.
“How come you decided to write? You could have coached anywhere, like me. And if your career wouldn’t have done it, I’m pretty sure Daddy could have.” Jase means that last bit as a joke, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.
I don’t react to his statement. I have years of practice. Most people say things like that because they want my reaction. “I could have coached, yes, but not because of who my father is.” I make a point of adding that part in.
Jase holds his hand up, in apology, I think.
“I didn’t want to,” I continue. “I didn’t want to be around the sport. It was too hard because of all that had happened. I had dreams and goals, but they were all just taken away. So, I left it behind. I’d always been good at writing and decided to try my hand at this.”
Jase nods. “Yeah, I had dreams too, but someone else had a higher plan. Now here I am, in the US, coaching these girls. Trying to make them the best. Trying to make sure Tampa gets behind them.”
“It’s no small feat,” I say, picking up my mug of dark lager and taking a sip.
“No, it’s not.” He pauses for a second, looking at me, eyes drawn together. “Are you going to include this in your story?”
I smile at him. “Nah, you’re not the story and neither is Hendrix. I’m writing about the striker.” I look over my shoulder, and there she is, staring at me. She’s sitting beside Hendrix, and when Jase looks back and sees them, he waves. They all smile wide and wave back. “Girls seem to like you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m respected because I played the game,” he teases.
“I didn’t kick a ball, but I do know a thing or two about sports. It’s nice to be around it like this,” I admit to him.
He nods and replies, “Yes, it is. It’s why I’ll coach the goalies, because even though I can’t play, someone is benefiting from what I learned along the way. It’s someone else I can explain my field vision too.”
“It’s admirable.”
“Don’t print any of this.” He jokes.
I shake my head, “Don’t worry I’m busy writing about her.” I remind me again, gesturing behind me to where Mac is watching me.
“Mac’s a handful, from what I’ve heard. Almost took your head off with a ball and now you’re going to write about her. That should be fun.”
I only mean to steal a glance when I look back at Mac again, but she’s laughing and having fun with the girls at her table.
I love how natural her smile is. I don’t always see that side of her.
I think I did at lunch, but most of the time, she’s more guarded with me.
Probably because she worries that I will print something about her she wishes to keep private.
“You know, if you’re writing about her, challenging her in the pressroom, and trashing her in the papers, you can’t be making googly eyes at her.” Jase stares at me, brown eyes pleading with me.
I steal a glance at him and then look back at her, sighing before I turn around to face the TVs again. “That’s not what’s going on here.”
“Mac is a beautiful girl. You gotta watch yourself around that one—around all of them. They like to draw you in with those big eyes, and before you know it, you’re losing your credibility over a pair of long legs and blue eyes.” He chuckles and pushes my shoulder. “Don’t let that be you.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.
Is Hendrix making things hard for you?” I tease him back because he’s suggesting that there’s something going on between Mac and me.
I don’t think there is, really. There’s just this electricity and verbal sparring that feels like foreplay.
I love it. It makes me feel alive, and it’s barely anything.
Just tells me that I need to get laid because it’s been too long.
“Um, no, she’s not. She’s a good goalie, and she likes to work. Reminds me a lot of what I was like when I played. Men and women can work together and not have it turn into twisting in the sheets, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Which is why I’m not sure why you think that something is happening between Mac and me.”
“Oh, because I don’t look at Hendrix and grin the way you just did when you saw Mac. But what do I know?” he tells me as August joins us again, taking what was his seat.
“How is Maria?” Jase teases him.
“She’s fine. Getting a little clingy, so it was time to cut that one loose,” he replies.
“Oh, and over the phone? You are cold.” Jase laughs and shakes his head.
“Yeah, well, you just gotta do what you gotta do.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “You know.”
But I don’t. I don’t let many women get close to me. They tend to think they’re going to get closer to my father. I never know who wants me for me. I wonder if Jase can relate to that, or August. I want to ask, but I decide that I shouldn’t.
We spend the rest of the night drinking a few more beers, eating pasta, and listening to the girls gabbing behind us. It isn’t until I leave that I get a chance to talk to Mac.
“What are you doing here?” she asks me. The snark in her voice remains. She’s not looking to make this easy on me and just be friendly. I make a note to ask her sometime, why the wall went back, and she chose to be snarky rather than friendly.
“Making some new friends,” I tell her with a grin. It’s either the light buzz I have working from the beers or just the nearness of her.
“What about Nick? Isn’t he your friend?”
“I can have more than one friend. Clearly, you have many.” I gesture toward the rest of the team behind her. “How was practice?”
I push away a strand of hair that fell from her braid and was getting ready to fall into her eyes. Her hand came up to push it out of the way, but I was faster. I watch as goose bumps form at my touch, making her take a step back.
“It was alright. Harder than I thought it would be,” she admits with a shrug. Her eyes follow where her teammates have gathered, waiting for the vans to take them back to the hotel.
“Probably just a little jet-lagged from traveling. I’m sure you’ll pull it together for Friday.” I wink at her, and she laughs.
“Oh, we’re going to kick ass.”
“I know you will.” I grin wider at her by the second.
“You headed out with them?” She motions toward Jase and August, who are talking quietly with Nate, the head coach.
“Nah, I’m going to head back to the hotel, see if Nick is done catching up with family, and probably call it a night.”
She nods. “Yeah, me too. I’m going to stretch, shower, and hit the hay.”
“More practice tomorrow?”
“More practice tomorrow. But as you know, it’ll be lighter than today was.”
“Sweet dreams,” I tell her, bopping her on the nose and walking back to say good night to Jase and August. I don’t dare turn around. I like to think she’s watching me retreat, and for some reason that thought makes me so damn happy. Happier than it should.