Page 40 of Kiss Me Tonight

Think about how excited they are to have you as their coach.

All right. Time to make the magic happen—or die trying.

“Some of you may know me,” I say, keeping my voice steady but raised, so the folks in the back can hear me too, “and some of you are probably wondering who the hell you followed into a dark courtyard you’ve never been granted access to before.”

The joke earns me a few chuckles, mostly from the dads in the group.

“There were supposed to be two of us greeting you all tonight.” I point to the invisible space next to me, hovering my hand about shoulder-high. “My partner-in-crime is on her way”—I fucking hope—“and you’ve probably heard of her family, the Levi’s.”

A fewhell yes we know her!rise up, and I feel a modicum of relief that the group hasn’t stomped back into the bar and left me out here alone.

“Aspen probably doesn’t need any introduction.” I ignore the fact that her first name sounds illicitly forbidden on my lips.Leviis familiar, safe, and not the name of a woman who moans when she eats pizza and forgoes wearing a bra around the house. “But I probably do,” I continue, noting a few of the women tittering to themselves behind shielded hands. “Dominic DaSilva. I played for the Buccaneers for a decade and some change, then took a TV hosting gig with Sports 24/7. I’m excited to start this new journey with all of you here in London, and I’mreallypumped to see how well your sons do over the next two months of summer camp.”

“I was told we’re talking about fundraising today,” comes a voice from deep in the pack, out of my line of sight. “Coach Levi mentioned it the other day?”

Fundraising.

I haven’t talked fundraising since college ball.

Swiping a hand over the back of my skull, wishing I hadn’t left my ball cap on the dashboard of my truck, I give a clipped nod. “It’s on the agenda for the night, yes—”

“I heard you agreed to do a calendar for the team,” calls out a woman to my left. “A naked one.”

“No, not naked!” shouts someone else. Another female, I think. “We’re keeping it PG-13. Remember? Someone mentioned his dick in a sock.”

My dick in a sock?

In all my years playing for the NFL and working with various branding sponsorships, I’ve never posed naked. Not a single time. Briefs only? Yes. Briefs and cleats? Also yes. Briefs, cleats, and a football clutched in my hands? On multiple occasions, yes.

But not balls-hanging-free-dick-flapping-in-the-breeze naked.

Conversation erupts, groups of parents taking sides on whether or not I should be photographed with a sock covering the family jewels—or not photographed at all.

I’m siding with the latter.

One-hundred-percent.

Needing a drink to wash this nightmare away, and wishing I hadn’t been so eager to finish my beer earlier, I hold up both hands and pray for divine intervention.Sorry, Father, for I have sinned—but please, for all things holy, get Levi’s curvy ass here right now and let her deal with this shit.

“Whoa now, guys. I don’t know who confirmed this calendar thing, but I can assure you that I won’t be—”

“Coach Levi was the one who suggested it.”

My stomach lurches. “Come again?”

The woman who brought up the sock bit shifts her weight, then sips from her cocktail. “It was the other day . . . at our first practice. She asked us all to meet here for fundraising ideas, andshesaid we should come up with ways to use you working for London High to our advantage. Oh, look, she’s right there—Coach Levi!” the woman bellows, turning heads with the force of her shout. “Didn’t you think Coach DaSilva posing with a sock over his member would be the best method to ensure calendar sales?”

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket at the same moment Levi stumbles up next to me. Her blond hair is wild and curly. Even in late evening light, it’s hard to miss her panicked expression—the heavy-duty makeup caked onto her skin like she’s bathed in the stuff is not doing her any favors.

Her blue eyes meet mine.

I don’t look away as I grab my phone and quickly check the text, already knowing it’s from her.

She doesn’t disappoint.

Levi: I’m walking in now. I’m so so SO sorry. Ultimate disaster. Will explain later.

Her throat constricts with a visible swallow as she continues to hold my gaze, never once severing our connection while I pocket my phone.

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