Page 6 of Waiting for Friday Night

Quinton clenched his teeth. She wasn’t asking for anything more. If a kid came to him and asked how to get better, he’d work with them. Halle’s lecture put him on the defensive. And made him aware of just how sexy she looked when her eyes sparked with determination and challenge.

“Ms. Parker, I won’t tell you how to be a principal if you don’t tell me how to coach football. I’ve played football since I was four in the pee-wee leagues. I know how to instruct and help players improve. Your advice is heard, but not needed. Now, if you don’t have anything else to say, I’ve got other places to be.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she asked, “Are you like this because she’s a girl?”

Quinton studied her for several long seconds before slowly pulling off his shades. He squinted at Halle and replied in a low, measured tone that barely hid the irritation crawling over him at her accusation. “I’m going to treat Shania like any other player on this team. If she wants to be a receiver, then she has to show me that she can run plays and catch the ball. Don’t ever question my integrity like that again.”

Halle unflinchingly returned his stare before the corner of her lip lifted in a smug smirk. “I’m glad to see that I haven’t completely misjudged you. I hope that you’ll take my words to heart. Have a great afternoon, Coach Evans.”

She turned and strode away. Quinton frowned. What the hell had just happened? Had she been testing him?

“It’s Coach Q,” he shot back with the title the kids and everyone else used, thrown off by how quickly she’d switched and ended the conversation.

Halle threw up a hand but didn’t turn around. She walked toward her car, curvy hips swaying with her confident steps. He felt like he’d just been released from a lecture in the principal’s office, and unlike when he’d been called there as a kid, he wanted to go back and have another round. Grunting and scowling, he shoved his shades back on his face and got into his SUV.

Three

“What were you talking to Coach Q about?” Shania asked as soon as they got in the car.

Halle glanced over at her daughter. Shania was the complete opposite of her. Shania was going to be tall where Halle was lucky to be considered average height at five foot six. Sports had honed her daughter’s athletic build whereas Halle had accepted no amount of CrossFit or cardio would do much to shrink her curvy figure. They both were passionate and cared deeply, but Shania was more likely to get into an argument defending a call in some game versus Halle who was willing to go to bat over a social injustice. If Halle hadn’t delivered the eight-pound baby herself, she’d swear the hospital had mixed something up. But despite their different personalities, Halle loved her more than anything.

“I was talking to him about how things were going with practice,” Halle said, pulling the car out of the parking lot. She turned up the air-conditioning and cracked the windows.

Shania’s eyes narrowed and she stared back at Halle. “What about practice? I can tell you about practice.”

“Nothing more than usual. How are things going? How did you do?”

Shania sighed and fell back in her seat. “You told him to make me starting wide receiver, didn’t you?”

“Why would you say that?” Halle tried to sound innocent but failed. Shania knew her mother too well.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you. You can’t just make me a starter.”

“Don’t you want to be a starter?”

“I do, but I’ve got to earn it. Coach Q says there are no favorites on his team. Only those who try hard.”

“Do you believe that?” Halle asked.

He’d looked ready to explode when she’d asked him if he’d treat Shania any differently because she was a girl. She could feel the outrage radiating off him in waves. In that moment when he’d slid off those shades and hit her with the full extent of his intense, dark gaze, she understood what the women around town saw in Quinton Evans. The man exuded raw, masculine energy. If she were into brawn over brains, her heart might have fluttered. Her question had insulted him, but she didn’t feel guilty for it. Her daughter was an anomaly on the team, and she needed to make sure her coach really supported her.

Shania sighed. “I do believe him, but there’s this kid who just moved to our school. Octavius something or other. He’s going to be starting wide receiver.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he was the starter at his last school. He’s some kind of star and really good. Coach Quinton watched him all practice.”

“That’s favoritism,” Halle said, lifting a finger. And he’d tried to be so smug with her with his I evaluate all players speech. The man’s preference was already noticeable to the team.

“It’s football,” Shania countered.

“Well, you can’t give up before you even get to the finish line. Coach Evans’s one job is to coach that football team. I asked him to make sure he coaches you. Not just push you to the side.”

“He teaches math,” Shania said.

Halle frowned, confused by the comment. “Who teaches math?”

Shania raised her brows. “Coach Q. He teaches math.”

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