Page 74 of Released from the Sin Bin

Carter has been trying not to look upset. He got even more angry when I made him drive into town to get tacos.

I haven’t addressed the elephant in the room yet of what he was about to propose before Coach Renan interrupted us.

“You’d be like everyone’s coach?” He forces a smile after placing his order and watches the waitress walk away.

“Yes, not just yours, but the team.” I throw a tortilla chip at him to get his attention from our waitress’s ass.

“What does that mean for us?” He snaps angrily, but quickly hides it with a rub of his hand over his mouth. “I mean, this kind of changes things.”

“Not really.” I shrug, avoiding what he was asking for earlier. “We can still be friends.”

“Friends who fuck.” He eyes me as his leg bounces nervously under the table.

“About that,” I hesitate as if I’m breaking up with a boyfriend, but Carter was never my boyfriend and would never be my boyfriend. “We can’t do that anymore.”

“Because you’re my coach.” He gives me an annoyed sarcastic smirk.

“No,” I stop him, considering how to say this without ousting my best friend’s crush. “Because we’re friends. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Pfft.” He blows out a breath between his lips and leans back.

“I’m serious. I like our lunch dates like this. Sex ruins everything.” I should not be feeling bad about this, but Carter is getting so upset over me being his superior. Maybe agreeing to be a coach was a mistake. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

His leg stops bouncing, and he immediately leans over the table, grabbing my hand from the chip basket to get my attention.

“I am so happy for you.” His dark russet brown eyes pull me in. “Willa, you are going to be such a wonderful coach. I am happy that you’ll get to do something you love.”

“Thank you.” I blush at his sincerity.

“But,” his full pouty lips tick up, “it’s going to be really hard not imagining you naked while you’re yelling and whistling at me to move faster.”

He’s joking. And it’s not at all funny.

“Faster, Carter.” He mimics what I’d sound like with a groan. “Harder. Move those hips.”

“Shut up.” I throw another chip at his face and slap his hand.

“I really need to get laid,” he groans seriously. “Like a really good lay. I’m starting to think no one can top you.”

“I think you’re missing that connection with someone.”

He rolls his eyes at me, but a light goes off in my head like the red flash of the lamp lighting up after the perfect set up and rebound into a goal.

“You should try dating. Let me set you up with someone.” I plant the seed, and I am so proud of myself.

“No.” He shuts me down quickly.

“Why not?” I gasp. “I know a lot of tough and rough girls on the hockey team that would love to slap you around in bed.”

“Absolutely not.” He glares at me.

“Jocelyn is single.” I keep going, planting that seed even deeper.

“Willa,” he growls across the table for me to stop. “No.”

“I’m taking that as a, maybe.” The waitress comes back with our food before he can say anything else, and I won’t let him talk more about it.

He said no, but he doesn’t know what’s good for him. A tough woman that can handle his snarky attitude is exactly what he needs.

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