Win Me Over Page 5

  Callie laughed to herself. That comment was so directed at her. He went on.

  “I believe in less talking, more action. So I’d better see all of you tonight, and let’s do this thing.”

  The entire room took to its feet as the band kicked into the school fight song. Callie refocused on the festivities as the cheerleaders and dance team formed four lines and began their versions of the accompanying dance. The football players took the opportunity to find their seats in the front row of bleachers that had been reserved for them.

  Callie made it through the rest of the assembly without glancing down the row even though it killed her. If she and Bennett made eye contact at this point it would get awkward, plus she needed to focus on watching the girls perform today’s routine—which they ended up nailing.

  Eventually, after a student council skit and some random announcements from the principal, everyone stood and began to exit through the four sets of doors. Realizing that funneling this amount of people out of there would take a while, Callie focused on getting her bag together and then stood to find Eric in the chaos. She was grateful he’d wanted to come and support her at the first performance in front of the entire school. She knew the girls were good, but she’d still been incredibly nervous.

  She felt a big hug from behind and smiled as Eric kissed her on the cheek and spun her around to face him.

  “Amazing. The kicks were high as hell and in perfect sync. I’m impressed.”

  Callie beamed. “They did look fantastic, didn’t they? I’m so glad it’s over. Now we just have to get through tonight’s routine. I didn’t think I’d be so nervous.”

  “You’re a perfectionist, Callie Jo. Your only fault.”

  She squeezed Eric’s hand; he was such a good friend to her.

  “Speaking of perfection,” Eric went on. “I’d heard Coach Clark was hot, but holy hell, he is a ten.”

  “You knew he was hot? Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in shock. Eric had been out on a date last night and he’d taken today off, so she hadn’t been able to fill him in on the developments of the past twenty-four hours. “You will never believe this, but the principal wanted us to partner up for the Millard Country Club’s dance fund-raiser competition.”

  “Seriously? Lucky girl.” Eric grinned. “You should totally sleep with him. Then tell me everything.”

  “Shhh, good lord, Eric, can you scream that any louder?”

  He shrugged. “It’s noisy in here.”

  And it really was, hundreds of voices pinging off all the wooden surfaces as they lingered and waited for their turn to exit and start their weekend. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because he said no.”

  “You’re kidding? That sucks. I talked to Jill Monser in the parking lot just a few minutes ago and she mentioned the fund-raiser. I will admit your sexy coach looks a little too cavemannish to be into ballroom dancing. I got the feeling she was going to ask you to be part of it. Maybe you can dance with someone else.”

  Well, there was an idea, but suddenly the whole thing had sort of lost its appeal. “No, I think it’s really for the best. This second job has already taken way too much of my time away from the shop, and I hate leaning so much on you and Emma.”

  “Don’t worry about me, and if you haven’t forgotten, you pay us both by the hour, so it’s all good.”

  She was ready to thank him again when his eyes went wide and he grabbed her head with both hands and leaned down to kiss her just to the right of her lips.

  “What the—ew.” She grasped his biceps to keep from falling backwards under the weight of his sudden assault.

  Eric just laughed and whispered against her cheek, “This should be interesting. Twelve o’clock; look breathless. I’ll catch you later.” He stepped past her and groped her butt as he did. Callie turned in shock and annoyance, her gaze landing on a very irritated-looking Bennett Clark. It almost looked like he’d been coming her way. Instead he turned and got lost in the crowd.

  Four

  Bennett winced in pain as he sat up in bed Saturday morning. They’d won the game last night, but being on his feet for nearly three hours had done a number on his leg. At least it hadn’t been an away game. Those were the worst, he hated to travel. Whoever had invented the seats on school busses was evil, and Bennett suffered every time for it.

  He grabbed some aspirin from the nightstand and downed them dry.

  Saturday after a game was the one and only time Bennett took a break from the home gym in his basement. He was dedicated to staying in shape, keeping the muscles in his legs and hips strong and flexible, but this was his treat to himself. It was nice to just relax after the stress of Friday night football when he woke up feeling like he had a hangover. Once he was up and showered, he would be much better. At the very least, functional.

  A fluffy head pushed at his hand until he conceded and stroked it. “Morning to you, too, Misha.” His voice was raw from disuse, but Misha didn’t mind, just rolled over onto her back so he could rub her white fluffy belly. After a moment the dog turned and stared up at him with black beady eyes.

  Bennett still remembered Ashley bringing her over one day, not much bigger than a cotton ball. Ashley had named her Misha and said the dog was their first furbaby. It was still hard to believe that the woman had left not only him but also Misha, whom she’d claimed to adore. But he couldn’t complain. The dog had remained his constant companion through a lot of shit over the past eight years.

  Bennett gritted his teeth as he stood, grasping his headboard to help pull himself up as a dull ache raced down the back of his thigh. A slight pause, then a deep breath, and he made his way to the shower. He turned the water to may-lose-a-layer-of-skin hot and let it beat on his body.

  This shower—with its natural stone tile, six shower- and three rain heads—was one thing he’d never regret paying too much for. His favorite part was that there was no door; you just walked around a partial wall straight into heaven. It was a handful of things that he had left to show that at one time he’d made serious money, ridiculous money. And it had only lasted for one year.

  Bennett tilted his head back and let the hot water pummel his face.

  Following his father’s guidance, Bennett had used most of that first year’s pay to create a versatile investment portfolio. Thank god for his dad in that regard, because Bennett had turned out to need it more than he would have ever anticipated.

  Being drafted to the NFL had been his dream. As any young athlete would, Bennett had assumed there were many years of multi-million-dollar salaries ahead of him. Didn’t happen. But those investments had made it possible for him to take a normal-paying job that he wanted and still purchase and remodel this home outright. Even left him with a nice cushion. Or, he hoped, retirement. Nothing crazy, but he couldn’t complain.

  After some time in the hot water, Bennett’s muscles had turned to liquid and the steam had collected to the point that he probably wouldn’t be able to see another human standing at the other end of the shower stall. That was okay, he had a good imagination, and right now his thoughts turned to picturing her. The complicated woman he’d been trying hard not to think about. And failing, because something else was hard all right.

  In the shower her long blond curls would be wet, heavy against her full breasts. He imagined touching them, her nipples firm and slippery. Her lips would part as he let his hands run all over her body. She would moan and push herself against him, her slick, warm skin flush against his.

  “Shit.” Bennett swiped his hair back off his forehead. This was insane. She was insane. And she clearly had a boyfriend, which Bennett had found incredibly irritating. He’d really thought that maybe she’d been flirting with him a little in his classroom. The energy between them had been charged, and the way she’d smiled at him in the gym made him want to seek her out again.

  It certainly wasn’t the first time an unavailable woman flirted with him. Or maybe it had been so damn long he’d lost touch with what real fli
rting was.

  He’d been able to forget about the troublesome woman during the game last night because there hadn’t been time. Also because thoughts of women didn’t belong in a man’s head during a football game. He’d learned that lesson early on. But as soon as he’d gotten home and lain down, yep, there she’d been in his mind, taking up way more space than necessary, boyfriend be damned.

  Turning off the water, Bennett grabbed a towel from the heated rack and ran it over his face and then his body, rubbing gently against the tenderness of his left leg and hip.

  He had big plans for today, which included grading papers and spending some time with a heating pad, his favorite weekend routine every spring and fall when the pain got worse due to standing. If he was honest with his doctor about his lingering pains he would be recommended to continue physical therapy. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Not because he didn’t see the value of therapy—he’d had plenty. In fact, he owed the fact that he walked as fast as he did to an amazing occupational therapist after his accident, but he didn’t have time for that shit now. Plain and simple.

  After dressing in some worn jeans and a dark-grey Henley, he went to the kitchen to let Misha outside. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and opened his laptop on the kitchen counter.

  His home page was all sports and he quickly glanced through the highlights. He didn’t maintain much contact with friends from his time as a player, but he still liked to keep track of how they were doing. His first year of coaching, an old friend had come to a Preston game when he was in town to play the Chiefs. He had caused quite a stir in the little town. Bennett still smiled when he thought about it.

  He clicked to open his e-mail. Most of it was junk or things that could wait until Monday morning, but one email from the Missouri High School Football Coach Alliance caught his eye. It was about the Evan Award, and he inwardly groaned. He’d been nominated several times and never won. Bennett told himself it didn’t matter, but it did rankle a little.

  He couldn’t quite figure out why they bypassed him every time, but they did. Principal Jensen seemed to think it was because Bennett didn’t kiss enough people’s asses, but that just wasn’t his style. He worked hard at his job, he did the best he could for his guys and his coaches, and he made them into damn fine football players. He also made sure they did well in school and were upstanding members of the community. If that wasn’t good enough, then fuck ’em.

  He skimmed through the e-mail until he got to the heading “NEW FOR THIS YEAR’S EVAN AWARD WINNER.”

  We are happy to announce that Baylor Ford Dealerships, Altman Grocers, and our own Board of Directors have generously come together to offer our Evan Award winner a $50,000 grant to disburse as scholarship money to his qualifying senior players.

  Bennett couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Fifty thousand dollars. He had six qualifying seniors. How amazing would it be to hand them each eight thousand dollars to take to college? It wouldn’t cover a full education of course, but it would get them headed in the right direction. Give them hope. And damn if he didn’t know a couple of those boys who needed some financial hope.

  Bennett stared down at the counter, contemplating. He’d never before had an incentive to win the Evan. He didn’t need a trophy or even the title. Didn’t give a shit about things like that. But damn, when it came to helping his guys out, that was something else.

  He glanced back down at the donors. Altman Grocers. They were a regional chain, but he knew for a fact the owner lived in the next town over. Bennett had even taught one of his daughters three years ago. A million thoughts traveled through Bennett’s brain at once.

  He opened a new Internet window and typed “Millard Country Club board” into the search bar. He clicked on the first link, scanned through some bullshit, and then he saw it. Sure enough, Dan Altman was a member of the club.

  Bennett shut the laptop and sucked in a breath.

  It was official; he had to win that Evan Award, dammit. What could he do to guarantee a win? He closed his eyes and pictured Callie strutting out of his classroom, so confident. He remembered how certain she’d been that she could win the dance competition.

  Didn’t she know nothing was certain?

  Jensen could be wrong about the entire thing. Bennett could make a fool of himself in front of a room full of rich bastards all for nothing. But damn, he would enjoy putting his hands on Callie Daniels in the process. Now all he had to do was let her know that the game was back on.

  * * *

  Callie slid a piece of caramelized onion, chicken, and goat cheese pizza onto her plate and took a long drink of her strawberry wheat beer. Heaven. Complete and utter bliss. It was Sunday evening and she, Lindsey Morales, and Anne Edmond had just toasted to another month of plans finalized for the My Perfect Little Life blog.

  Anne was the official creator and owner, but Callie and Lindsey each posted about twice a week as permanent contributors and the truth was, Anne made them all feel ownership. That was just her style, one of the many things Callie adored about her friend.

  Recently they’d taken to meeting at the local pizza and brewpub, Pie Mia, and Callie loved this time with them where they could just reconnect, support one another, and be creative.

  Also overindulge.

  “I seriously think I could eat this every day of my life,” Callie said as she held the pizza up to her lips. “Who needs a man when this pizza and strawberry beer are available?”

  “Hear, hear.” Lindsey took her own bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head.

  “Not sure if I could eat it quite every day, but certainly once a week,” Anne said with a wink. “But definitely never in place of a man.”

  Callie let her pizza droop from her fingers as she gave Anne a wry look. “Anne, since you have a big sexy man at your house as we speak, probably doing something disgustingly precious like making your daughter a grilled-cheese sandwich or reading her a book, you automatically forfeit your right to add to the man situation banter.” Callie punctuated her statement with a big bite and then continued, mouth full. “I’m happy for you and all; I’m just sayin’, we’re no longer interested in your opinion regarding men.”

  Anne just laughed and took a bite of her own pizza, a tiny moan escaping her lips. “It is so good, though, you’re right. Maybe twice a week.”

  “So, speaking of man situations.” Callie sat back and eyed Anne. “How long till the guy just moves in with you?”

  “Oh no, he wouldn’t do that because of Claire.” Anne shook her head. “He’s made a few little hints at marriage, but we haven’t had an official conversation. It’s only been about four months. We’re happy right now, so I’m certainly not going to push.”

  Callie had a feeling Anne was probably right. Mike Everett had a way of doing the right thing, especially when it came to Anne’s daughter. How could you not like a guy like that? A man who put your needs above everything else? Callie had never had that; she’d always specialized in attracting selfish dickheads.

  Callie listened in silence for a while as Anne and Lindsey talked about children. Lindsey’s sister was pregnant with her first child and Anne was helping to plan a big baby shower for her. The whole process and planning had been showcased on the blog and the shower was in a few weeks. Discussing babies always left Callie a little melancholy. It wasn’t that she wanted children; her biological clock hadn’t even been wound yet, so it was nowhere near a countdown. She wasn’t dying for a man either. She considered herself independent, and she had strong opinions on who the ideal mate would be—she’d decided he didn’t exist. But sometimes the gushy stories of love and babies just made her feel a little lonely.

  Yeah, she had her mom and dad, but that didn’t really count. Neither did her best friends. There was just something about having someone to call your own that sometimes appealed to her. Someone to come home to. It was almost hard to picture.

  She didn’t want a relationship like her parents’. They seemed happy,
but Callie didn’t want a man who saw her as an assistant. She wanted to be her own person. She wanted her and the man to be partners. She couldn’t function without someone who respected her as his equal.

  With a sigh Callie motioned for another beer from the server and took her third slice of pizza. She was only twenty-eight; it wasn’t like it was too late for her. Plenty of friends from college still weren’t married. But then again … the ones who were seemed a lot happier. She saw them on Facebook, beautiful weddings, new houses and new babies. Eric was always telling her she was afraid, and while she would never admit it, he might be a little right. Afraid of feeling helpless and vulnerable. She worked hard and she took care of herself.

  “Ooh, guess what?” Anne’s eyes went big and round. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. The new Junior League president is Jill Monser. They are mixing their fund-raiser this year with the Millard and she called Friday morning to see if I’d be interested in emceeing, and get this…”

  Callie tensed. She knew exactly what was coming.

  Anne continued. “They’re doing their own version of Celebrity Dance Off. It will be their first event after the remodel from the flood. How fun does that sound?”

  “Oh, Callie.” Lindsey’s eyes shone with excitement. “You should do that. You would be so good. It would be like your ultimate fantasy.”

  The three of them enjoyed watching the real Celebrity Dance Off together on television; in fact, they were looking forward to the premiere next Monday evening. Big plans had been made to meet at Anne’s house and eat lots of unhealthy food while they feasted their eyes on their favorite dancers. As much as Callie loved the show, the thought of the Preston version only added to her slightly bitter mood.

  “As a matter of fact, I was already asked to participate, but it didn’t quite work out.”

  “Oh no, how come?” Anne sounded genuinely worried. “Jill had hinted none too subtly that she really hoped you would dance. She was a Crimson girl at KU, you know.”