Page 15 of Racing Heat
He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “That was a hell of a rocket.”
“Thanks,” I reply. My cheeks heat a bit. His words mean more to me than they should. “This is still something to celebrate, so when we all go out today, don’t be all up in your head, okay?”
I grin widely at him. “Okay.”
He winks at me. “Okay.”
I head back into the locker room to hear Coach’s speech and to collect our things. My step is a lot lighter than when I walkedout onto the field. I can’t decide if it’s because of my goal or because he winked at me.
Chapter Six
~JASE~
Iglance in as the girls cluster around Nate in the locker room. They’re missing Hendrix. She wears bright pink on the field, so she stands out from the other players and doesn’t have a chance of looking like the opposing team. I don’t see her anywhere.
I make my way out of the locker room and head over to the trainer’s office, and that’s where I find her, sitting on a table getting the tape cut from her ankles.
“Hey, Coach,” she greets me, her smile growing as I approach. “How’s tricks?”
I laugh. It’s a question she’s asked me since we met. It threw me for a minute the first time she said it. I wasn’t used to the American slang. It isn’t something we say over in Manchester. It led to a funny conversation where she explained, while super red in the face, that she was not calling me a prostitute. She was merely asking how I’m doing, in a fun and playful way.
That’s when I knew I liked her and was going to enjoy working with her. She’s very lighthearted and friendly, always willing to get serious when the time comes, but she’s not so uptight that training can be a chore. She makes me like my job and coaching, something I didn’t think was possible when Igot injured. But I’m glad that shortsighted thinking didn’t stay around for long, because working with her has been the best blessing.
“Tricks are going well. Looks like you pulled outyourbag of tricks and kicked some ass on the pitch.” I hold my hand up to dab her up, as she told me that’s what it means. I thought we were fist-bumping, but no, the language she wanted to use was ‘dabbing her up.’ Because that’s what her brothers had taught her.
“I sure as shit tried,” she admits with a shrug. “One went in.”
Her eyes are downcast, and I shake my head. I put my index finger under her chin and lift it so that she’s looking at me. “No, don’t hang your head. One goal went in, yes, but”—I emphasis the word— “how many stayed out? Do you know?”
She shakes her, so I fill her in.
“You stopped fifteen goals tonight, Hendrix. Fifteen fucking times they fired at you. Fifteen potential goals. That doesn’t count the five that were long and went off to the sides or the four corners that were served straight across the goal. For a ninety-minute game, that is amazing. I am so proud of how hard you’ve worked. So don’t you think for a second that you should be hanging your head.”
Hendrix beams at me. It’s not often that I get the full megawatt smile that she’s got focused on me now. She’s a pretty reserved girl. “Thanks, Coach. That means a lot.”
I nod. “I meant every word. You were awesome out there tonight. You’ve earned a stiff drink and a good cheat-day meal tomorrow. So, make sure you get it.”
She laughs. “All I really want is a cheesesteak, but you know you can’t get a good one in Tampa.”
I shrug, not really sure what she means by that. She hails from Philadelphia, which is apparently the cheesesteak capital of the US, according to her. “Well, you might have to wait until it’stime for you to head back home to Philly for a cheesesteak that meets your expectations. But I can take you to a place that has good fish and chips.”
She laughs. “We really should have that lunch date at that place you keep telling me about. I mean, if the king of Manchester is recommending it, then it must be good.”
I laugh and shake my head, ignoring the fake title she gave me when we were first getting to know each other. Apparently, because I was big deal over there—or so she says—I get the title of king here in the US. Kind of like some people call Lebron James “King James.”
“We really should. It would be nice celebrate your great game.”
“Thanks. I would like that. It might do you some good to get out a bit. And not just with Danny and August.”
They really are the only people I hang out with. Them and the girls that come hang out with us when Mac wants to spend time with Danny. Which seems to go just fine for the most part. Hendrix isn’t a fan of the man who’s going to be owning the team that she plays for. And I’m not sure how that’s going to work down the road. She never misses a chance to send a snide remark in his direction. I tell myself it’s mostly in good fun. August never seems too bothered by it, so there’s no need to intervene at this point.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that hanging out with you is much of a step up,” I fire back.
She laughs and moves her feet out in front of her for Lucas, the Blaze’s trainer, to have better access to her feet.
“How’s the pain?” I ask her. It’s been a while since she had some pain in her ankles, but both of them have to be taped before games and practices. College injuries, she’s said.
Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up. “If she’s in pain, she hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
