Page 61 of To Have and to Scold

He studies it. “It’s one we use for the city team I coach. We practice on this beach, and I must have left it here.”

“Well then, show me your skills.”

He shrugs off his blazer and sets it down on the sand. I gasp. “I’ll hold the blazer. The thought of getting sand on it is just…”

“Oh no. You’re going to play with me.” His eyebrows waggle up and down.

“I cannot be trusted around a volleyball or any other athletic equipment.” I take a step back to lean down to pick up his sports coat.

“Volleyball is not a one-person sport. This isn’t golf, Dallas.”

I sigh and set his blazer back where it doesn’t belong…on the beach. It’s a tragedy of the highest order. Except now I can see the bulge of his biceps and forearms through his fitted white shirt.

Okay. That sports coat can stay off the rest of the evening.

I hold out my hands, ready to catch it when a smile twitches his mouth. “Ready?” he asks.

I glare at Beck. “No, but I have a feeling this is happening anyway.”

He does a little bump of the ball, tossing it in the air and hitting it with his fist. It sails to me and goes right between my hands, landing at my feet with a thud.

I pick it up and roll my shoulders back. “Okay! Alright!” I sound like a cheerleader. This is not how I feel inside, but I’m going to try to fake it and hope he stops this before too long. I wanted to see his skills, not show off my lack of them. But I’m not going to be a whiny sour sport, either.

I try to mimic what he did and miss the ball all together. I emit a giggle and then try again, missing a second time. I lick my lips and tuck my errant hair behind my ear.

“Third time’s the charm,” he says with a gentle smile.

I take a step and whack it with all my might, impressed that I pulled it off. It sails in the air right past him.

“That was good! You’ve got a lot of power in that arm.”

I laugh in spite of myself. “That might have been a little fun.”

“You might have done a good job,” he counters, picking up the ball and hitting it to me again. This time I catch it and hold it up over my head, triumphant.

“Nice catch. Except, we don’t catch the ball in volleyball.”

“I know that.” I do that toss move between my hands. “See? I’ve got this move down. Too bad it’s not allowed in regulation.”

He laughs again, which warms my soul. He has a good, hearty, easy laugh. It feels good to be the cause of it.

“Here, can I show you something?” At my nod, he steps toward me, his bare feet on the outsides of mine as he stands behind me. He’s so much bigger than I am, he feels like an umbrella in a storm. I would not mind a sudden tsunami right now if that meant he could protect me just like this.

I don’t need protecting. I know this. I’m strong, just like he said. So why does this feel so good?

His warmth and the feel of his breath on the crown of my head make me shiver. He grasps my left hand with his, placing the ball in it. “You hold it like this, okay? And then with this hand—” he takes his right hand and pries my fingers apart and then puts them back in a fist. “Thumbs are out and then turn inward with the movement.”

I swallow hard. “Got it.”

He guides my right hand back, telling me instructions I’ll never remember because he’s touching me.

“And then, you whack it,” he says, helping me hit it far and hard. We watch as it sails in the air and then hits the ground with a thud.

“Whack it? Is that the technical term?” I toss back a look. He hasn’t let go of my hands yet and I’m perfectly fine with that.

He clears his throat. “Of course that’s the technical term,” he jokes, letting go of me to jog over to pick up the ball.

“Let me show you how to bump it. That’s what you’ll try to do when I hit it towards you.”

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