Win Me Over Read online

Callie shrugged. “I’m willing to give you another try sometime. If you want.”

  “Of course I do.”

  She grinned. “Good. I’ll make sure to have a heating pad handy.”

  He shook his head, but his laugh was always her undoing.

  * * *

  The following evening Bennett sat on his couch, stacks of assignments sprawled out on his coffee table. Football season was overwhelming, took up a lot of his time, and always required him to buckle down at work in order to get everything done. Papers graded, copies made, lessons planned. This year it was proving to be even more of a struggle to keep on top of things.

  Dance practice only added to his stress. But damn, he wouldn’t dream of giving it up. Not now, even if it made life a little more difficult.

  Everything he did was a little bit clouded by thoughts of Callie. Even on the days he didn’t see her, he liked knowing that she was in the building, just a walk away. Sometimes the girls on the dance team would mention Coach Daniels in class and he would eavesdrop, wanting to know anything more about her. A few times students had even discussed the dance competition with him, including his players who liked to give him and Reggie a lot of shit for participating. But Bennett could tell they were supportive also, which was nice.

  The hard truth was that Callie was on his mind all the damn time. Too much, and the more time he spent with her the more he thought about her. Those intimate moments certainly didn’t help—but holy shit, they were amazing. She was amazing. He’d never enjoyed fooling around with a woman so much in his life. Callie was sweet, funny, and so sexy. That was the problem; he wanted more. All of it. And she obviously did too.

  But the part that was driving him crazy was how caring and attentive she’d been when he’d been in pain. He hadn’t expected that at all. It would have been more like her to give him shit, tell him to tough it out, man up. But she’d been gentle and concerned.

  The whole thing had been incredibly humiliating. One second he was on the verge of one of the best orgasms of his life; the next he was bent over in pain, pantless. It couldn’t have been any worse, and he should have known better. It was no surprise his bad leg had seized up; after all, it was football season, when he was stressed, didn’t drink enough water, and spent a lot of time on his feet. To shove himself into the backseat of his truck bed had been the stupidest thing he could have done, but at the time he’d had one thing on his mind. And it wasn’t his bum leg.

  He’d felt the cramp building, the muscles in the back of his thigh tightening as he’d awkwardly thrust into her hand, both legs twisted against the door. But at the time he couldn’t bring himself to stop. A severe miscalculation. That’s what he got for making out with a woman in his truck. Grown men were supposed to take a woman to their beds.

  Bennett ran a hand through his hair and stared at the mess of papers spread out before him. The stress of the past few weeks was culminating in front of his eyes. He was behind on schoolwork. Two classes’ worth of tests needed grading and his AP Biology class had just turned in research papers that needed reading. He had a lot of catching up to do before progress report grades were due, and time was tight this week with homecoming activities.

  On top of that, he was still pissed as hell about the fight and the loss of his two star players in the upcoming homecoming game. He honestly still couldn’t believe it had happened. Jason’s physical condition made Bennett even more depressed. They’d been able to use some sort of glue to seal Jason’s small cut closed, but he had indeed suffered a concussion, which they’d all figured but were still distressed to have confirmed. The doctor had said two weeks without football, and Bennett wanted a guarantee that everything was in the clear. Second-hit syndrome had become too common in football—especially high school—and he was not willing to take a chance.

  Bennett sighed and dropped his head to stare at the floor. So much to do, so much shit going on, and still his thoughts turned to Callie. He looked up at all the work to be done and then chose to pick up his phone instead.

  He quickly found Callie’s contact and hit the call button. As her phone rang he glanced at the time on the television. Nine. Not too late; he hoped she wasn’t—

  “Hello,” she said in a flirty little voice that informed him she knew exactly who it was and was happy to hear from him. He liked that. Bennett smiled and leaned back on the couch, some of his stress fading away just from the sound of her voice.

  “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m good. How is that leg?”

  It was sweet and also embarrassing that she had to ask. “It’s fine.”

  “Good. Any time you need a Callie massage you know how to find me.”

  “Nice, I’ll be sure and do that,” Bennett said.

  “I don’t offer Callie massages to just anyone, I’ll have you know.” She laughed.

  “You better not,” he responded without thinking, and quickly regretted it. What would she think of that? Shit, what did he think of that? Acting possessive of her implied something and he didn’t think that’s what either of them wanted. But the only thing that had crossed his mind was the thought of her touching anyone else, and he hadn’t liked it one fucking bit.

  For a moment they were both quiet and suddenly he realized maybe he should have just texted her. Thankfully, she saved them from the awkward pause.

  “So, did you need something or did you just miss me?” she teased. He loved how she made it so easy to talk to her. Did he miss her? Yeah, no doubt, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it just yet.

  Fuck it, he’d just sounded possessive; why not go for it?

  “Of course I did … miss you. But I had a reason for calling.”

  “Okay.” He could tell she was smiling on the other end of the phone.

  “Unfortunately, I think I’m gonna have to bail on practice tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, okay. How come?” Her voice had lost its flirty tone and he could tell she was skeptical. Not what he wanted.

  “Not because I want to; I’ve just got a shitload of work to get done before Friday when progress report grades have to be turned in, and I can already tell I’ll be pushing it as it is.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  He laughed. “Nice of you to offer, but I’m not sure you’d be interested in reading AP Biology research papers.”

  “Eh, probably not. But then again, who knows. Sometimes I even surprise myself. What are some of the topics?”

  He appreciated her feigning interest and picked up the paper on the top of the stack. “Okay. First up is ‘Early Symptoms of Senile Dementia.’”

  “Yuck. Too depressing.”

  Bennett grabbed the next one. “‘Biological Warfare of the Future.’”

  “Yikes, no.”

  “‘Deforestation’s Effects on Parasitic Diseases,’ ‘Vaccinations in Third World Countries’?”

  “Seriously? I expected things like … ‘How Eyeballs Work’ or ‘How People Catch a Cold.’ What do you say to these kids as a guideline? ‘Write a paper that makes you question your will to live’? Those topics are awful.”

  Bennett sank into the couch, getting comfortable. Misha jumped up and sat beside him, so he petted her head as he spoke. “I find these topics fascinating and so do most students who take AP Biology. And the guideline is basically to write about biology in the real world.”

  “Yeah, well, I think I’ll pass. Sorry I couldn’t help you, but you know, life is easier when one lives in denial about parasitic diseases.”

  Bennett chuckled. “It might be. So what are you doing right now?”

  “I am currently typing up a blog post for tomorrow. It’s a recipe for the best banana bread in the whole world. Much happier subject matter than your work.”

  “True. Sounds good.”

  “You think? I’ll have to make you some. Do you like bananas? I don’t like bananas plain, but I like them in stuff.”

  “They’re okay. But yeah, I probably prefer banana bread to plai
n bananas.” He smiled to himself as he considered how normal and at the same time odd this conversation was. She was just so easy to talk to. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

  “Easy, anything with a yeast dough. Cinnamon rolls, pastries, bread. It’s very rewarding to have it turn out right, because yeast dough can be tricky. So many variables come into play in order for it to turn out. Moisture, temperature, even the weather outside.”

  “There’s that damn science again. Can’t seem to get away from it.”

  Callie giggled and then turned on a fake stern voice. “Stop making me like science, Coach Clark.”

  “Stop talking about how important it is then,” he teased back. Bennett glanced at the coffee table in front of him loaded with work that desperately needed his attention. Damn, he hated to get off the phone with her, but he had to, considering he was already behind. He sighed. “Well, I better get going so I can get some of this done.”

  “Okay. So, I guess I’ll see you at the game Friday?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Then back to practicing on Tuesday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Good.”

  “Okay.” Why was he stalling? He was acting like an idiot by hesitating and felt even more ridiculous when he heard the sound of Callie laughing quietly on the other end of the phone. Finally she spoke first.

  “Good-bye, Bennett.”

  “Bye, Callie.”

  The line went quiet and he knew she’d hung up. Time to refocus. Bennett sat up and forced himself to start reading about senile dementia. Callie was right: depressing as hell. He would much rather think of her.

  Nine

  This was Callie’s second homecoming since moving to Preston, but it was way more exciting now that she had a connection to the school. She felt more a part of the community this year. And the little town did homecoming up right, treated it like a holiday. Most stores on Main Street had posters in their windows or a Panthers flag displayed out front just as Callie’s Confections did.

  She smiled to herself when she considered that last year she had no idea that the football coach was a total hottie. How were people not talking about it? Maybe she hadn’t really cared to listen or ask. It could be that everyone was used to him since he had been at the high school for six years now.

  Callie carried a tray of blue-and-white-frosted cupcakes into the front of the bakery and slid them into the case. She glanced at the clock on the wall and then over at Eric, who was restocking the coffee buffet. “Can you flip the sign and unlock the door for me?”

  “I’d be happy to. If you give me details about what’s going on with Coach Clark.” Eric shot her a look.

  “Eric, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Are you kidding me? Our relationship’s foundation is built on stories of foreplay gone wrong, one-night stands, and guys with bad breath. What gives?”

  Callie shrugged. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right. Plus you’re making something out of nothing. It’s not like we’re dating.”

  Eric lifted an eyebrow and then walked over to the front door, unlocked it, and flipped the Closed sign to Open. “You’re into him.”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, enough to fool around.”

  “Uh-uh.” Eric walked to the counter and leveled his stare. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. So you’re not dating, but is this … something?”

  Callie considered the question, and her definitive answer was clear. “No. It’s not something. It can’t be something. I don’t want to be the female coach that puts the moves on the hot football coach.”

  “Fair enough. Then be the hot female coach that lets the football coach put the moves on her.”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “You and I both know it’s too late for any of that. You’ve already kissed him, maybe more, and who cares what anyone else thinks.”

  Before Callie could respond, the front door opened. A woman with dark skin, curly shoulder-length ebony hair, and a beautiful smile walked in. Callie recalled seeing her in the shop before with two little girls.

  “Good morning,” Callie called out. “Welcome to Callie’s.”

  “Good morning to you.” The woman walked right up to the counter and stuck her hand out toward Callie. “I’m Corinne. Reggie Wilson’s wife.”

  Callie smiled and shook her hand. “Reggie the coach, right?”

  Corinne smiled. “And gym teacher.”

  “Well, what brings you in today?” Callie asked.

  “Two things, really. First, I wanted to get the players a little something for tonight. I know it’s a mom thing to do, but it’s tradition. I usually bake myself but thought why bother when your cookies are so good.”

  Callie smiled and grabbed a pink box, ready to fill it. “I wish everyone thought that way.”

  Eric headed to the back to frost cupcakes as Callie took Corinne’s order for the team. It made Callie happy to think Bennett might eat one of her cookies with the players. She hoped he did.

  They hadn’t spoken since Wednesday night on the phone, and she missed him terribly. Had even considered calling him again the night before but had decided it would be weird. Yeah, they had talked and flirted a little when he called, but at least he’d had an initial reason for calling. She couldn’t very well do it for the hell of it. She’d hoped to see him in passing during practice after school, but it hadn’t happened.

  Corinne cleared her throat. “The other reason I’m here is to invite you to our annual homecoming party. It’s tonight, right after the game. Teachers, coaches, and a few of our close friends. Are you interested?”

  Callie was shocked. “Oh. That’s so nice. Are you sure? I don’t really know many of the other teachers or coaches.”

  “Exactly why you should come.” Corinne tilted her head. “And of course you know Bennett.”

  Callie gave her a half smile. “I do. Thanks to the fund-raiser we’re participating in.” Callie wasn’t normally a blusher; she hoped that didn’t change right now.

  “How’s that going? I have to tell you, we were all so excited to hear somebody had knocked some sense into that boy.”

  “Well, that wasn’t me, I can assure you. I think he just had a good reason to say yes.”

  “Whatever his reason, I’m sure it didn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”

  Okay, the blushing was inevitable. “That’s very sweet, but we’re just friends. I’m just doing him a favor.” Callie knew damn well that she could go to hell for that blatant lie.

  * * *

  The Panthers were losing their homecoming game. It was one thing to be down one starter, but two was insanity. And not just any two, but Bennett’s very best. He’d been looking forward to this season for a couple of years, and here they were in a damn mess.

  He choked down three ibuprofens—with yellow Gatorade, which he couldn’t stand—and continued pacing the sideline. He’d been afraid this might happen with the two boys out, but the reality of it was devastating. Not because he wasn’t a good loser; he’d lost many times—although he hated it. But Tuesday night’s events with Jason and Tate had left a heavy cloud over the team and the coaches. Morale was down, animosity was high, and Bennett had a feeling the boys were taking sides. He just wasn’t sure what the sides were. It felt like the boys were mad at him, but surely that was his guilty conscience speaking.

  He had some anger of his own, that was for damn sure. He was still having trouble processing what Tate had done. The kid had received three days’ in-school suspension for punching Jason. Obviously, that meant Tate couldn’t play tonight, but it also meant he’d been unable to fulfill his role as homecoming candidate. Jason had received three days of after-school detention for being involved in a fight.

  Not even being crowned Homecoming King at halftime had seemed to put a smile on Jason’s face. Whatever words the two young men had spoken to each other Tuesday night had caused a ri
ft that didn’t seem to be healing. That was the biggest tragedy, and Bennett hoped more than anything that the boys could restore their friendship. If it was truly over a girl—and Bennett was pretty damn sure it was—then he hoped the boys had realized already that it wasn’t worth it. Although who the hell was he to talk? Right now a female had his thoughts jumbled in his brain. Women had the power to make a man do some crazy shit, like sucker punch your best friend. And ballroom dance.

  Bennett shook that thought off. This was football and he needed to focus on the game. It wasn’t like him to allow such a distraction. He eyed the field and groaned as one of his boys made a ridiculous fumble on a second down. The crowd’s unison awww was like a knife to Bennett’s heart; he’d heard it again and again over the course of the evening. He bit off a curse of relief when the player managed to recover the ball. Not that it mattered, they were going to lose tonight, but damn, it would be nice to make this final score.

  Bennett signaled for a time-out. The ref blew his whistle, and the boys ran over to the sideline where Bennett stood waiting. After they were all huddled he let out a deep breath. He couldn’t give them a bunch of shit now: everyone was hurting; the situation was the fault of no single player on the field tonight … only the two who weren’t. But he needed to say something.

  “It’s been a tough night, y’all. Your spirits are down; shit, mine are, too. But we’re Panthers. We may lose a few, but we don’t give up, and I can feel some of y’all givin’ up.” He hated how stress made his accent come out in full force.

  Bennett glanced around. Many helmets were slumped in shame and despair. His guys hated to lose. He did, too.

  “All of you listen the hell up.” Reggie stepped in. He was much better at pep talks than Bennett was. They might not be poetic or even appropriate, but they were effective. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going out like this. Panthers don’t take ass whoopin’s, you hear me? So quit your damn cryin’ and feeling sorry for yourselves. So we’re down a couple men, so what. Quit actin’ like you lost your manhood. Pull your shit together and give me this touchdown. Do I make myself clear?”