Page 131 of Home to the Hollow

I wouldn’t have admitted that in high school for sure, so maybe I am evolving.

Slipping my shades out of my pocket, I watch more boys filter in. They’re not late—they wouldn’t dare—but like most teens, it’s a slow trickle until everyone is gathered in place on the field. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shiny black muscle car pull into the lot and I grin despite myself. Mydrugaris in the house, and her sexy car is like a magnet for the guys. They’re whispering about the Impala covetously as I wait for her to emerge.

Jolene emerges from the car like a dangerous shadow, all legs and dark waves. It’s all I can do not gape as I watch her bend and fiddle with something inside the car. I’m so entranced by the curves on display that I miss some of the boys pausing to do their own impression of Shemp until one of them lets out a whistle that echoes across the lot. My girl narrowly misses slamming her head into the top of the car as she jerks up to confront the idiot who cat-called her.

I can’t see her eyes, but I bet the emerald is flashing like a danger sign.

Her cats leap out of the car to stand at attention on either side of her, snarling like beasts twice their size as she stares at the goofy group of players guffawing and high-fiving one another. They continue to laugh it up as she glares in their direction with an unimpressed look on her face. I realize she hasn’t seen me yet, so she can’t try to avoid me after our little faux pas.

Time to smooth things over.

I stroll up to her casually, plastering my most amenable grin on my face. “Well, hello, sugar.”

Her head whips around and she turns that murder stare on me without missing a beat. The cats follow her lead, redirecting their wrath at me via low, dark growls. “Hell, Edgar. Are those your little dopplegangers?”

Ouch. How did she know I was thinking I’d evolved past that kind of behavior? I need to show her that I have.

I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, smirking. “Them? Just boys,drugar.”Lifting my fingers to my lips, I let out a whistle three times as loud to get their attention. “We. Do.Not. Harass. Women. Gentleman!50 laps for the entire team. Now!”

My team moves like the hounds of Hell are upon them, which is fitting. They’re muttering to each other as they jog off, but I don’t care. That’s not the behavior I want them to present to the public regardless of whether it’s my woman or any woman. I won’t stand for the boys I coach feeling so entitled that they go off to college and end up doing something awful because no one ever told them ‘no’ in their entire lives.

“Better?” I ask, batting my lashes at her playfully.

I should get points for that, right?

She shrugs, sniffing imperiously. “I suppose.”

Before I can open my mouth again, she turns and stalks off, cats in tow as she heads for the main office. I watch her go with a pensive expression. I have the feeling she knows we need to talk, but she’s not ready. I’m going to have to work harder to get her to let me explain than I thought. As I stare at her until she walks inside, a thought flits through my mind.

How the hell did she get grass in her hair?

* * *

The practice dragson for what feels like an eternity. Laps never make them happy, even when I join them in running. Sweat is pouring down my bare back as the sun beats down on the field, and I curse myself for hoping the rain held off earlier. Weather in this part of the South can be extremely variable, and most of it is unkind. When the sky doesn’t let loose during the summer, the humidity rises to the point of suffocation, and that’s where we are right now.

But we don’t call it unless the index is over 90, and it’s hotter than Satan’s asshole, but not that hot.

“Okay, gentleman! Set up for plays. I want you to run the book we’re using for pre-season, but no tagging the red shirt!”

I trudge over to the bleachers, climbing up to the middle to watch from an elevated position. We have a solid line this season, and if they continue to develop over the next couple years, there are a few players that will be D1 eligible. It will require quite a bit of finesse to keep them in fighting shape given the leniency of the parents in the Hollow, but I’m fairly certain I can convince them to hire extra trainers and personal career managers for the ones who have the most potential.

After all, there’s nothing the Hollow elite love more than bragging on their children’s achievements, especially if they get national attention at State U.

My phone buzzes, and I frown as the flood of messages from my runners in other towns inch up my screen. It sounds like there’s a walk-on at State U’s main in-state rival. The kid came out of nowhere—a transfer from some podunk college in Alabama—and he’s lighting the practice field on fire. That’s going to make the number fluctuate rapidly, and even though it’s only pre-season, I’ll need to send someone to see the arm on this kid in person.

That son of a bitch at U of K was probably hiding him. He’s a sneaky asshole, and I wouldn’t put it past him to scout someone without officially declaring it.

Clicking my contacts open, I call Billy. “I saw the messages.”

“Yeah,” he replies. I can hear the noise of his gym in the background and I chuckle. Billy’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but he’s been a loyal soldier since high school. He runsBetter Bootiesgym and is my second command in my… side hustle.

I wait, and when he doesn’t elaborate, I sigh. “Billy, you’ll have to go see what this means for the pre-season. Can you go tonight?”

He grunts, and I wait as he counts under his breath. The muscled meathead is finishing a set rather than answering me, and it makes my hound flare. I’m aware that he’s not smart, but this seems overly oblivious. There must be good looking girls nearby—a fact that shouldn’t matter because he’s married to Jillian Marie and she’s likely to cut his balls off.

I’d want to cut his balls off, too, given he convinced her to adopt three boys because he was sterile and then managed to impregnate her with twins while the paperwork was still in progress.

Five boys of varying ages is probably why she’s still such a venomous spider, and I can’t say I envy raising them while Billy runs around chasing skirts and fixing my problems.

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