Page 103 of Against the Clock

“No, not at all.” She tilts her head, her expression thoughtful as she watches me stand next to the bed she was just asleep in. “You just continue to surprise me.”

“What, you still think I’m a meathead jock?”

“I never thought that.”

I give her a look.

“Okay, maybe I did for like five minutes after you tackled me. But I haven’t since then.” She opens her mouth again, like she’s going to say something else.

I stare at her, tension building between us, waiting. Not wanting to interrupt. Ever since last weekend when I told her I loved her, when it slipped out way too early and impulsive, the words hanging between us. I haven’t mentioned it since, but it hasn’t changed how I feel.

“It sounds fun,” she finally says. “I haven’t volunteered with kids since college.”

“Then you better suit up, Coach. We’ve got to be there by eight.”

“Sir, yessir.” She snaps off a passable salute, then returns to chomping on her sandwich, staring down at the shirt on the chair.

The strangest thought goes through my mind, and it’s that I wish her shirt didn’t say Coach Kelsey.

I wish it said Coach Harrison.

CHAPTER 39

KELSEY

It’s chaos. Utter chaos.

Kids spill out every which way, all in a multicolored rainbow of shirts matching their coaches. Daniel and I have the royal blue team, who are currently pretending to be lions in a drill on the Wilmington Beavers football field.

They are too fucking cute, and watching Daniel hold a little boy’s hand as he finally works up the courage to participate is absolutely sending me head over heels.

He’s too good to be true, and it’s fucking scary.

Darius and Shara are here, too, coaching a group of yellow-clad kids, and the Matthews brothers are too, coaching a group of pink-shirted kids. Their groups are older—Daniel and I appear to have lucked out with the five and six-year-old group.

They’re a mess, and it’s taking all my strength not to simply laugh at their antics. Three or four of them don’t want to participate at all and are rolling around on the turf like wriggling snakes instead. Another kid’s doing forward rolls instead of acting like a lion, and I giggle as she throws her arms in the air like an Olympic gymnast with every new roll.

“Coach Kelsey. I need water!” A red-faced girl with drooping pigtails pulls at my shirt. I tear my attention off the group of lions as Daniel leads them across the field.

The girl looks like she’s been to war. She looks like she’s seen things no child should see. “I need water!” she screams.

“Okay,” I tell her, then blow the whistle.

“Water time!” I yell, making the time-out sign.

“Water!” the kids yell, and it’s a lion and snake stampede.

Daniel also looks to either be holding back a laugh or tears, and the look he gives me sends me over the edge. I clap a hand over my mouth, turning away from the kids as they flop onto the grass next to their brand-new Wilmington Beaver water bottles.

I’m staring up at the ceiling of the Wilmington stadium, trying not to absolutely lose it laughing. I don’t know if it’s the hangover or the kids, but I can’t seem to be anything but silly today.

“Having fun?” Daniel asks, gripping me around the waist and kissing the back of my neck.

“The time of my life,” I say honestly, turning to kiss him.

“DISGUSTING!” one of the kids yells at us.

“MY MOMMY SAID THAT’S HOW YOU GET BABIES!” another joins in.

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