Page 1 of Stalked By the Assistant Coach

PROLOGUE

REDFORD ‘RED’ BRIDGES

I might have been holding an ice-cold beer, but I didn’t feel it.

The long chug I took as I brought the dark bottle to my lips did nothing to temper the heat I felt the inside. It was too much.

Anguish and ache.

Every part of me hurt.

Not because of the years of physical torture I put myself through playing football since I could hold a ball in my hands. Not because of the long hours at practice with my guys while the crazy desert heat pounded down on us. And it wasn’t even because of the long hours I spent at the gym trying to overexert myself because all I wanted was peace.

Nope. The heat that overwhelmed me came from the thing that lived inside of me. There was something she had brought to life with one smile during a chemistry class I’d chosen to take almost two decades earlier. I still had no idea if I had known then what I knew now and could go back, would I change that choice?

Liar, a voice whispered in my head. You would still take that class. You wouldn’t change a thing.

I might pretend to be a badass and make my players believe it. Half of them feared me whenever I looked in their direction. It was why once upon a time, I was so damn good on the field. Before I blew out my knee and fumbled the future I had pictured.

The one I had been ready to hand her.

My knee bounced nervously as I waited, and when my phone rang, I didn’t have to check to know who the caller was. This was my daily call. One I had worked hard to get.

“What do you have for me today?” I roughly clipped, and I could feel my old boss’ annoyance through the phone.

“Hi to you, too.” the ass muttered.

“We’re not friends, Brewer,” I reminded him.

“We could be,” he argued, and it wasn’t the first time.

“No thanks.” I took a swig of my beer. “I got enough of those. Especially ones who aren’t lying, cheating sacks of shit.”

“Fuck you,” Jon Brewer cursed. “Remember who you are talking to, asshole. I don’t have to do this for you.” My jaw clenched.

“You don’t, huh?” I taunted as calmly as I could manage. “I would hate for certain pictures to accidentally get sent to your wife’s email. How is Bex doing?” I asked smoothly. I felt almost feral while I waited for the dick to tell me about my woman. “Or imagine if those pictures accidently made their way into Johnny’s backpack? Who do you think would find them first? Your son? Your wife? Or maybe your daughter?—"

“Enough.”

“That’s what I thought,” I muttered. “Never threaten me with keeping information about Kaitlyn to yourself again. You’re doing this for a reason. Season tickets. And oh yeah, I keep my mouth shut about you and your school secretary doing extracurricular activities.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, Bridges.”

“Thank you. Same. So, what do you have for me today?” I pressed because I wasn’t about pleasantries with this asshole.

Never had been.

Not when I’d worked for him at the high school after I graduated and figured out what the hell I was going to do with my life considering the career I’d wanted had all but been obliterated. I started teaching at my hometown’s high school alongside my best friend— the woman I had been ready to purpose to despite never taking her on a proper first date.

Kaitlyn Orozco was my dream girl. From the way she smiled to how freaking smart she was. Kait was the one who'd talked me into coaching high school football a year later, and we had been inseparable. The best of friends. Until my old buddy from college who had gone pro asked if I wanted to help him coach at the University of the Desert. The offer had blindsided me. I couldn’t believe it. U of D was a division one school. I took it because it gave me something more to offer her.

“Same shit, different day. She’s fine. Kids love her.”

“I know that. Your job is to tell me shit I don’t know.”

“Red, she’s a creature of habit. I swear the woman eats the same three, four things at lunch. Walks in with her iced coffee every morning regardless of the temperature and mostly, since you left, keeps to herself.” Guilt ate at me. I hated that. I had no idea why, but according to Brewer, she had stopped mingling with the other teachers.

“Though, you know, I walked into the teacher’s lounge today, and she was there,”

---