Page 4 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“At your service.” I grin. “Nice to meet you.”

He straightens in his chair, peering at me from his muddy brown eyes. I hold his gaze. If I’ve learned one thing from Papa, it’s that not holding eye contact is the first sign of weakness.

“Luanne says you’re looking to be a student manager for the team.”

“That’s right, I sure am.” I nod.

His lips twitch and he drops his pen on the desk. “Southern girl, huh?”

“Born and raised in Tennessee, sir.”

He sighs, rubbing a palm over his face. “We’ve never had a female team manager before. It’s just not really done.” His hand drops from his forehead down to his chin, his fingers scratching at his jaw. “You know anything about basketball?”

My eyes grow wide and I straighten my spine, uncrossing my legs. “Yessir. I know the season hasn’t started yet. And I know there’s a hoop… and a net. I reckon there’s a ball somewhere in there, too.”

His head juts back from his loud, boisterous laugh. “So that’s a no, then.”

I grin, my cheeks tingeing with heat. “That’s a no. But I grew up workin’ for my old man in his church

. I know how to focus in and learn quick.”

“Well, that’s something, at least. You even know what a student manager does?”

“I figure I’ll find out once you give me the opportunity, sir.”

He chuckles. “Sure of yourself, huh?”

“Just hopin’ to nudge you into the right decision.” My smile grows.

“It doesn’t pay much.”

I lift my shoulders. “If it’s enough for rent and ramen, I’ll survive.”

His chair squeaks as he leans back, clearly assessing me. “Okay, here’s the deal. I usually have three student managers on staff. You can’t be in the locker room with the guys, except for before games, because frankly, you’ll be a distraction. But you can help with practices and anything else the coaching staff may need.”

I’m nodding my head, eyes wide and ears open. I’m grateful for the opportunity and I don’t intend to waste it.

He clicks the keyboard on his computer, his printer whirring to life. Swinging his chair around, he grabs the freshly printed papers, laying them in front of me.

“You still need to fill out the paperwork and turn it in so you’re official.” His knuckle taps the forms. “Practice doesn’t start for a month. In the meantime, I want you here, learning the basics. I can’t have someone working for me that doesn’t respect the game.”

“Got it.” I bob my head. “Thank you, sir.”

“And quit calling me sir. Coach will do just fine.”

“Okay, Coach.” I stand up, grabbing the papers and saluting him like a jackass. But I don’t care. I did it. It feels good to accomplish something without Papa in the background pulling the strings.

“Oh, and Becca?”

I swing around, my hand grabbing the doorframe.

“Get yourself some better shoes, yeah?” He looks down at my heels, raising his brows.

The grin cracks my face, and I feel it all the way to my toes. “Sure thing, Coach.”

I spin around, eager to get home and call Lee with the good news when my face smashes into a hard wall of muscle.

Sonnofabitch.

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