Page 10 of Courtside

When she reached a pair of frosted glass doors she paused, reading the neatly stenciled letters:Southeastern University Athletic Department.

Exhaling loudly through her nose, Sage pulled the door open, making a conscious effort to project confidence in her movements and expression.

The girl sitting at the front desk beamed at her. “Hi there! How can I help you today?”

“I’m here for a meeting with Coach Hughes,” Sage replied, trying to smile back.

“And you are?”

“Sage Fogerty.”

“Right!” Picking up the corded office phone beside her, she dialed in a series of tonal beeps. “Hello sir. Yes, your one o’clock is here. Miss Fogerty.” A pause. “Mmhm. I’ll send her right back.” She hung up the phone with a click, and pointed down a hallway behind her. “He’s ready for you. He’s in office 1113 down on the left.”

Again, Sage tried to smile. “Thanks,” she said, turning and walking in the direction the young woman had pointed in. She scanned the nameplates as she passed. Football, softball, soccer, swimming, tennis, volleyball…and basketball.

There it was. Room 1113. And in gold lettering:

David Hughes

Men’s Basketball

Head Coach

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and knocked three times.

“Come in,” a low voice called, muffled through the door.

Sage turned the handle, pushed the door open, and walked inside.

The first thing she noticed was that the walls were empty. Two generic, cushioned chairs sat in front of the wide, wooden desk that was covered with stacks of papers, boxes, at least one coaching board, and three different coffee mugs beside the open laptop computer.

An older man sat in a chair off to the side of the desk. He had a shaved head that looked like it concealed hair loss, white eyebrows furrowed to match a frown, and wiry arms crossed over his chest. Based on the team-branded polo, he was a member of the coaching staff.

And then, behind the desk there was —

What the actual fuck?

Standing there, looking down at her with his mouth open and eyes wide under thick brows, was the beautiful man from the bar.

There he was, in all his over-six-feet-tall glory, a green Southeastern hat pulled down over his dark hair, and…why was he also wearing a team-branded shirt? Why did it sayEagles Basketballright there on his chest?

Her eyes darted up to meet his.

It was definitely him, and based on the way he looked at her, he remembered her too.

A throat cleared. “So,” a voice spoke, breaking the silence that had filled the room ever since she stepped inside. “You must be Miss Fogerty.”

Sage blinked, tearing her eyes away from the man behind the desk and looking back at the older man, who stood there with his hand extended towards her. She didn’t miss the unimpressed glance he sent to his counterpart, who was still frozen in place.

This was a shit show.

She shook her head and forced a smile. “Hi. Sorry.” She took his hand, shaking it twice before letting go. “Please call me Sage.”

The man gave her a nod. “Coach Dixon. Assistant. Thanks for coming in.” He cleared his throat again, looking over at the desk. “Coach?” The question was forceful, and Sage tried to hide her wince.

The tall man seemed to come back into his body. “Right. Have a seat. Please.” He gestured to one of the empty chairs. “I’m Coach Hughes. Or David. Whichever you want.”

Sage sat down, dropping her bag on the floor next to the chair as the two men both returned to their seats.

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