Page 55 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“Hailey, hi! Coach Baxter from the San Diego Mavens.”

“Yes, hi, Coach Baxter. Great to hear from you,” I say, aware of Warren’s gaze on me, listening as he treads water in the pool.

“Got your email request for a meeting...”

I only sent it a month ago, but whatever. I’m happy he’s calling now.

“Like to set something up,” he says.

I breathe in silent relief, then compose myself. “Great decision. Let’s talk some dates.” I take the call inside, away from eavesdropping ears, and drip all over my hardwood floor as I head into my office.

A moment later, I re-emerge triumphantly.

Warren is out of the pool but still shirtless, tanning on a lounger.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of the six-pack and tanned, broad sexy shoulders. Turns out the rest of his physique is just as impressive as the forearms. The upper half anyway. I’d need to see the rest for myself before passing judgment.

He hears the patio door close and opens one eye to look at me, catches my stare. “Good news?”

“I have a meeting with the Mavens coach. It’s a start.” Nothing guaranteed, but at least someone from the sports world is finally getting back to me.

Warren opens the other eye and studies me for a sec. “Why sports clients?” he asks with genuine interest. “From what I remember, you were never very athletic.”

I obviously can’t tell him the truth. Even having this discussion is likely to kill the lighthearted mood. We’re getting along for once and I hate to ruin that with a reminder that the last non-client athlete I tried to advise was him. “Want to be versed in all industries,” I say simply.

“You truly think you can help professional athletes?”

“I do.”

I hesitate then feel as though I need to prove it to him. Or more likely, reassure myself that I’m capable. Oddly enough, if I can convince Warren, I think I’ll feel more confident. I sigh. “Come with me.”

He gets up and forgets his shirt as he follows me inside.

Our wet clothes drip onto the floor as I lead the way to my home gym. “I’m hoping this area will help me convince athletes that I know what I’m talking about.”

Warren enters and lets out a low whistle as he scans the equipment.

“It’s good, right?”

He nods. “It’s a great training facility...”

“But?”

“Athletes already have those. They aren’t going to sign with you to work out here.”

“I know, I just thought ifIlooked athletic, it might instill confidence.”

His gaze washes over me slowly. “Those arms are not going to convince anyone that you’re sporty.”

I glance at my arms and make a superhero pose, flexing. There’s a muscle there somewhere. If I squint really hard... Okay, so he’s got a point. “Well, teach me how to use this stuff.”

He looks tempted for a second, but then shakes his head. “You’re missing my point. It’s not being a weightlifter that will get them to sign on for your coaching. It’s knowing the industry,” he says.

“I’m...researching,” I say.

“That’s a start. But you need to get out there. Play the sport. Feel the ball...”

I’d like to feel certain balls.

---