Win Me Over (7 page)

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 flirting 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.”

Callie stifled an eye roll. “She's told me. Many times. Expects Jessica to follow in her Jimmy Choo–clad footsteps and become a Rock Chalk Dancer.”

Anne gave Callie a knowing smile. “I'm sure. So why didn't it work out?”

Callie gave them a very brief rundown of her visit with Jensen and subsequent conversation in Coach Clark's classroom.

Lindsey took a drink of her beer and then tilted her head, her long brunette hair slipping over her shoulder. “He's hot, isn't he?”

“What?” Callie was befuddled. “Why would you say that?”

Lindsey and Anne looked at each other and then Anne spoke with a shrug. “You just had this … look. And your tone. I caught it, too. The whole story was laced with interesting tension.”

Callie just chuckled. “You guys are crazy. I mean, is Coach Bennett hot? Um … yes. Does it matter? No, because he's a dick. So there.”

Callie tucked back into her dinner, not meeting the eyes of her friends, although she could feel them on her. How had they read her so easily? Interesting tension? No, it had definitely been angry tension. Sexual angry tension, maybe.
So what.

Unable to handle the weight of their stares and the awkward silence any longer, she dropped her pizza on her plate. “What?”

Lindsey bit at her bottom lip, clearly holding back a laugh. “Nothing.”

“It's really too bad he said no,” Anne said. “It would be such great publicity for the bakery.”

Huh.
Callie hadn't thought of that. The incentives for this thing were certainly piling up. Too bad it was never going to happen. “No biggie; the business has been steadily growing.”

“You could find a different partner,” Lindsey said. “Maybe Eric would dance with you.”

“He would if I begged, but no, it's really for the best.”

She'd thought several times about that little smile she'd shared with Bennett at the Pep Assembly and couldn't help but wonder if he had any regrets over turning down her offer.

She guessed not a one.

 

Five

Bennett had been standing in the gym doorway watching her for five minutes. She hummed the music to herself while she danced. It wasn't an all-out performance; she was obviously working through a routine, her movements quick and incomplete. But good lord, she was turning him on. The way her stomach shifted and her hips moved. She clearly knew what she was doing, her body moving effortlessly.

He glanced at the clock and realized he was running out of time to speak with her alone and entered the room.

Bennett was halfway across the gym when she turned and saw him. She gasped mid-spin and nearly fell.

“Sorry,” he said as she quickly collected herself. “I should have spoken.”

“You think?” She widened her stance and swiped a curl from her eyes before locking her hands on her hips. A defensive position. Point taken.

Callie was slightly out of breath from dancing, her chest rising, pushing her black tank top toward him with each inhale. He forced himself not to let his eyes wander south; he'd spent enough time admiring her tight-as-hell pants from the doorway.

“Do you need something?” She obviously wanted to get this conversation over with. Well, that made two of them. Sort of. He found that he sort of enjoyed being near her.

“I do.” He glanced toward the bleachers. “Can we sit?”

She stared at him for a second, obviously trying to figure him out. “Sure. Come into my office.”