Page 66 of Takes Two to Tango

"Wanna give 'em something to talk about?" he asked with a wicked grin. Her serious thoughts melted away as she considered his words. He was as big as Texas, brazen, bold and so damn good-looking it made a woman want to hog-tie him and lock him in a backroom for twisted purposes.

"Not really. I'm accustomed to people looking at me because I cooked the food, not because I'm with the hometown hero."

He looked at her strangely but didn't say anything more. Merely tucked into some macaroni and cheese she'd obviously missed out on. She hadn't had something with that much processed cheese since she left Oak Stand years ago, so she snagged a spoonful off his plate.

He didn't mind.

Twenty minutes later, the president of the Oak Stand Athletic Club, Griffin Doyle, strolled to the lectern and cleared his throat. He then began to process of introducing the teams and coaches, listing the records and asking them to stand. Henry popped up when his team was called, grinning through the barbecue sauce on his mouth. Then Griffin began rattling off mind-boggling statistics about the man sitting beside her. She didn't know what half the things meant, but Brent's parents seemed to sit taller. He, however, did not. At the conclusion of the accomplishments, Griffin mentioned the number of years Brent had coached baseball and football for Oak Stand Athletics. Ten years. Almost the entire time since he'd left college.

"So join me in giving a big round of applause to Oak Stand's own all-American... the Coach of the Year, Brent Hamilton."

Henry nearly killed himself joining in on the thunderous applause, and as Brent rose, he caught her gaze. The expression on his face was a mixture of embarrassment and resolve. An odd combination for someone who should be proud of his accomplishments.

Brent walked to the lectern and shook Griffin's hand, accepting the gold plaque that came with the annual honor.

''Thank you for such a nice tribute," he said, motioning everyone to quiet down.

"I want you to know that I've received many awards over the years I've been involved with athletics, but this award means much more to me because it represents my contributions to the future of organized sports."

Several people clapped and one man whistled.

"Yeah, Mr. Stanley, it's so appropriate to applaud the future of sports because these guys sitting with you tonight are our future Hall of Famers, future Heisman winners, future running backs, forwards, shortstops, and gold medalists."

He paused and took a deep breath. "But me, I'm the past and my contributions can only be given as someone who molds an athlete. It's a weighty job, and one that is important, more important than any role I've ever played, which is why tonight I want to come clean about some things."

There was a small murmur in the audience, and Rayne felt something inside her twist into a knot. She was pretty sure it was trepidation. What was the man doing?

"When I was growing up, I loved playing sports, but there was something I loved even more."

Oh. No.

Rayne's heart sputtered then sped. Surely he wasn't going to declare his love for her? Not here. Not now.

"I loved to read and write.” Brent tossed a small smile her way.

Oh, thank God.

“Growing up, I spent hours out in my backyard with my best friend making up stories, creating, building, reading, and dreaming. I carried that love with me all my life." Brent pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. Something niggled in the back of her mind. When she caught sight of the faded red heart sticker, she knew. And it caused a prickly awareness to wash over her, a sense of planets aligning.

Or something.

"A while back a friend gave me poem about having the courage to be who you really are. It's a poem about daring to leave what others think of you behind, about reaching for dreams, and holding fast to what you want in life. She spoke to my heart with those words and I've kept it in a special place, pulling it out to read when I sometimes lost faith in myself."

Warmth stole into Rayne at his words, burrowing deep in her heart and causing a clog of tears to form in the back of her throat. She looked around the recreation center. Most people looked confused, but intrigued. Even toddlers stopped wiggling as if they knew this was a profound moment.

"I tell you this for a reason. Being who you truly are is important. I was afraid to do that for many years because I didn't want to disappoint the people who loved me. I didn't want to let people down."

Brent's parents squirmed. They were the only ones. Everyone else looked mesmerized by the admission of the former all-American.

"But in doing that, I let myself down. And I let down the person I cared very much about, the person who wrote this for me."

Rayne centered her gaze on Brent. He swallowed and cut a glance her way. She smiled and he returned it. It was a poignant moment and she really didn't give two flying figs if everyone else shared in it.

"So I want to encourage all of you boys and girls out there to embrace who you are. If you dream of being an NFL quarterback, then go for it. If you want to dance on Broadway, polish up your shoes and tap your way there. If you want to be a writer, park your bottom in a chair and write a story. No one can tell you who you can be, and if you're lucky, you'll have someone along the way who will challenge you to be all that you can. It could be your mom or dad, or a teacher, or a coach, or maybe a special friend who sees beyond the outer wrappings to the real gift inside you." He paused and seemed to fidget, as if bracing to take the next step.

"Tonight I'm going to come clean on …a secret."

A murmur emerged as a couple of kids starting talking. Their parents quieted them. Brent waited. "My dream when I was young was not to play in the NFL as many would expect. My dream was to be a writer. And for the past six years, I've been living my dream, though no one has really known about it. I have twelve middle-grade sports books on the shelf. In fact, most of them are in your school libraries.”

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