I drop to my haunches and inspect the peeling gray paint. With the heat of the sun beating down on my shoulders, I trace the claw-like scratches marring the side of my truck. It looks like it went to battle with a bear instead of a four-door sedan.
With exaggerated, good guy charm, I murmur, “I agree with you on the lying front.”
Clearly caught off guard, she echoes, “Youagree?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I swear I can hear molars grinding, all the way from over here. “You did not just call me ma’am—”
“Take Brien, for instance.” Hands on my bent knees, I shove up to my full height. Six-foot-six in bare feet. Tall as Levi is for a woman, I still dwarf her. And, despite the decades separating who I am today and who I was at her son’s age, there’s still a mischievous part of me that finds great delight in knowing she has to tip her head way on back to maintain eye contact with me.If looks could kill, I’d be skewered and left in a ditch by now.“He let me assume you were a man when he downgraded me to the assistant coach position.”
“A man.” She spits out the words like they’re the most vile thing she’s ever heard.
“Assistant coach?” the last bit comes from the kid, whose face promptly lights up like it’s his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. “Hell yes!”
Levi catches her son’s arm just as he’s about to raise it for a fist-pump. “Heck,” she corrects stiffly, never letting her gaze wander away from my face. “No cursing.”
His shoulders don’t even slump at the reprimand, he’s too excited. “This is the best day ever!Dominic DaSilvais our coach?”
“Assistant coach,” she snips distastefully, those blue eyes of hers flashing with a heat that has nothing to do with naked bodies or orgasms. Gone is the soft, flirty woman from Friday night. She’s been replaced with a hard-ass. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Topher. He does whatever I say he does. Nothing else.”
But there’s nothing left she can do to dissuade her son—Topher—what kind of hippie dippie name is that?—from letting out awhoop! whoop!and spinning away. He hauls open the driver’s side door, narrowly missing my truck, and tugs out a duffel bag. With it slung over one shoulder, he gives me an enthusiastic wave.
Not wanting to risk looking like an even bigger prick in front of his mom, I wave right on back.
Throwing an excited glance my way, Topher announces, “I’m gonna head down to the field. Give the news to the team, you know? They’re going to bepumped!” That’s when I see it—those blue eyes that are the same deep shade as Levi’s. He might not have her fair coloring, but he’s clearly her son in every other way.
He shuffles backward. “You two just take your time now. The guys will understand. Holycrap, Dominic-freakin’-DaSilva.” He utters the last bit under his breath in complete amazement like I’m some sort of superhero. Louder, he adds, “Sorry about your truck, Coach. My mistake.”
“Topher. It’s more than a mistake. You damaged his—”
“I’m really sorry, Coach!” The kid doesn’t stop at his mother’s chastising tone. He just keeps on waving as he heads to the field, never turning his back on us. “She’s always right!” he shouts out two seconds later. To me, I think. “Just remember that. Aspen Levi is always right!”
Aspen.
Her name settles on my tongue, reminding me of white winters, and crisp, icy breezes, and tumblers of whiskey sipped before a lit fireplace.
Aspen Levi doesn’t fit her namesake.
She’s spitting fire, sunny days, and currently turning my way with that finger already within striking distance.
I catch it with my right hand, demolishing her pretty, little speech before she even has the chance to get started.
“I’m not very good at following orders,” I murmur, slipping my palm fully against hers.
Her nose turns up. “Not good at following orders in general? Or those coming from me because I have a vagina?”
“The first.”
Because I spent eighteen years being shuffled from place to place at the snap of someone else’s fingers.
I don’t know Levi nearly well enough to give her the truth.
Then again, even those I know best know nothing about me at all.
Nothing besides the façade I’ve paraded around over the years.
A façade that’s currently biting me in the ass asCoachLevi warms up her argument with squared-off shoulders and a glacial look in her eye. If I hadn’t earned a paycheck off my quick reflexes, I’d already be moving my hand to protect the family jewels.