Page 15 of The Run Home
I stepped through the door and Boon followed so closely behind I was smack-dab in the bubble of his cologne. Drowning in it, actually. He clapped his hands and startled me. I gaped at him as he stepped up next to me and addressed my own dang team.
“Alright, ladies. The baseball team is joining you for the rest of today’s lift.” The girls groaned, and I wanted to pump my fist in the air. I agreed with their sentiment. Boon wasn’t fazed. He stepped over to the side door and pushed it open, his team’s curious faces filling the doorway. “Boys! Come on in.”
The boys filed in, instantly changing the atmosphere in the weight room. The girls swiped sweat off their brows and struck casual, yet careful poses, giggles and whispers filling the air. The boys lifted their chins in the air and tried to flex without looking like they were flexing. I rolled my eyes and wondered how I’d entered the seventh ring of hell so quickly. Friday I’d been happily teaching and coaching. Today I was one snide comment away from homicide.
“Okay, we’re going to pair up. One boy with one girl,” Boon announced. “Let’s get busy on the workout Ms. Fletcher has assigned on the whiteboard. We’ll be coming around to assist. And, boys?” He paused, giving the guys a stern look that made my stomach flutter. “We will respect these ladies in everythingwe do. You so much as drift one toe over the line and you’re off the team. Am I clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, Coach!” filled the air. Then Boon counted off numbers and got the kids paired off. Cassie shot me a cross-eyed look when she was paired with the catcher of the baseball team. I knew she’d gone to prom with him junior year, so I wasn’t sure if there was drama there. I’d have to keep a close eye. Boon’s own daughter got paired with Tatum, the captain of the baseball team. Kinsley was blushing furiously. I smiled inside, sure she’d have some words for her father tonight.
To my shock and confusion, the kids began to work on the exercises on the board and Boon held up his word. He helped numerous kids with their form. He even shut down two of the guys doing some sort of winking, handshake, laughing thing that could have been about anything, but was making their female partners uneasy, thinking they were laughing at them.
“Hey. This isn’t the time for joking around. You either do the exercises or you go home.” Boon separated the two guys and they instantly got back to work.
“Man, I hate deadlifts,” one kid groaned, loudly enough most of the weight room heard him.
Boon spun around and tilted his head to the side. “You hate deadlifts? You might as well give up on sports, then. Deadlifts are one of the basic exercises you’ll be doing for the rest of your baseball career. Ms. Fletcher assigned a good workout. I suggest you spend more time doing the exercises instead of complaining.”
Wow. Okay. I showed one of the boys how to spot his partner on the bench press without his hands brushing against her boobs “accidentally.” But the whole time I kept darting glances over at Boon. If I didn’t know better, he was showing me respect in front of his team and mine. If I didn’t know better, I might actually start to like the guy.
“Nice, Carson. Your form is perfect. Your shoulder will thank you for it later.” Boon slapped one kid on the back, and I watched the teen grow three inches from the praise.
The bell rang, startling me with how the rest of the hour flew by. “Rerack your weights, ladies, then head on home. Tomorrow is a two-hour practice.”
Boon followed up my announcement with one of his own. “Guys, we’re doing laps around the field, then stretching. Rerack your weightsandthe girls’ weights, then head out to the field.”
There were some groans at first, but the pleased smiles of the girls made the boys puff up their chests and gladly put all the weight plates away. It seemed like Boon was actually showing these boys how to be chivalrous. I erased the workout on the whiteboard and waited for each of the students to leave before looking over the weight room for leftover weights, water bottles, or towels they’d left behind. Boon did the same, then smiled over at me.
“How’d we do?” His smirk was back, loaded with confidence about his performance in front of the kids. Because that’s what it had to have been: a performance. Acting.
“Good.” I sniffed, lifting my nose in the air. “We’ll see if they can keep it up next session. We lift three days a week.”
His foot was up on the bench, his elbow leaning casually on his knee. He patted the bar. “Want to bench with me? I’ll spot you.”
I’d never been so aware of being alone in a room with a man. He lifted his eyebrows at my silence, challenging me. I reached down, grabbed my tote bag and slung it over my shoulder. I did not miss the way his gaze momentarily flicked down to my chest.
“In your dreams, big dog.” I backed into the door, pushing it open and escaping into the cool evening air. His dimples had disappeared and it made me irrationally happy.
“Stop calling me that!” he yelled after me.
I grinned, tilting my head back and enjoying the last rays of the sun before climbing into my car and heading home to grade papers and scrounge something up to eat for dinner. Except I heard footsteps behind me. I swung around, heart beating wildly.
Boon stood fifteen paces behind me, his hands up, eyes wide. “Just making sure you get to your car.”
My face screwed up. “What?”
With one of his hands in the air, he pointed to the sky around us. “It’s getting dark. I want to make sure you get to your car okay.”
“This is Blueball,” I scoffed.
“Bad things can happen anywhere. I’m making sure they don’t happen to you.”
I narrowed my eyes and spun back around, hustling now to my car. “Where was that energy in high school?” I grumbled sarcastically.
“What’s that?” he asked, now just a few feet behind me.
My car was a welcome sight. After watching Boon with the kids, I needed some time to collect my thoughts, breathe through my shock, and figure out why this sudden chivalry charade was making my stomach twist in knots. I yanked open the door with enough force that it whacked right into his muscled thighs. He let out an oof, and jumped back.
“Oops.” I shot him a shrug and climbed in my car, slamming the door and driving away. I refused to look in my rearview mirror and see the man standing there, watching me drive away.
