Win Me Over (18 page)

“Not yet. Just hold on.” He was flexing his foot repeatedly, his left hand squeezing his thigh.

Callie knelt down in front of him and knocked his hand away, using her fingers to rub at the back of his thigh. She knew it hurt him, could hear the pain in the way he was breathing, but they had to work the cramp out for him to get some relief.

After a second she stood up and grabbed his hands once more. Thankfully, he was now looking at her. “Okay, now walk,” she instructed.

Two wooden steps later and he finally spoke. “It's easing up.”

“Good, keep walking.”

And then just like that his face contorted, his mouth dropping open on a silent moan, his non-cramped leg going slack. It had come back, and Callie knew all too well that the cramp could come and go before finally stopping for good.

“Keep moving, Bennett. Let's maybe try to the side.”

She continued to step sideways, then back, pulling him along with her. He blew out a hard breath and followed. On they went for what seemed like forever but probably wasn't even a full two minutes.

Finally Bennett let out a deep sigh, his head dropping forward. His fingers squeezed hers and she returned the motion as he spoke. He let out a shuddering breath before he spoke. “I'm so sorry. That was … that was really fucking humiliating.”

Callie could barely stand the sight of him, so embarrassed and wrung out from the pain of the muscle spasm. She dropped his hands and then wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest. “Don't you dare worry about that. I'm just so glad it's over. You scared me.”

Slowly he wrapped her in his arms and rested his cheek on her head. She could still feel the way his chest heaved in and out as his body tried to calm down.

“I know how bad a cramp hurts. I got them a lot as a kid,” she said quietly. “My parents would have to come in my room at night and help me through them.”

“I've always been alone when it happens.”

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. The glowing embers of the fire put off just enough light that she could see him. “Well, then I'm glad I was here.”

“Me too. Thank you.”

She lifted her hand to his face, stroking his firm jaw. She wanted to massage the embarrassment out of his expression—make him laugh. But she knew that wouldn't be what he wanted right now. “How often does it happen?”

He shrugged. “Maybe once or twice a month.”

She tilted her head to the side. “That's a lot; is the dancing making it worse?”

“No, the dancing is fine. It's just … aches and pains from past injuries. I'm probably dehydrated. It's fine.”

She wasn't sure if she believed that. “You need to take care of yourself, Coach Clark. That way when a woman tries to get you off in the backseat of your truck you can enjoy it.”

He barked out a strangled laugh and she smiled, loving the sound of it. “Yeah, that was not how I wanted that to end. At all.”

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 plain 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?”