Page 29 of Forbidden

“Well, I didn’t know.”

We stand there, staring at each other, the noise of the crowd growing louder around us.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask.

Joy’s smirk disappears, turning into a small frown, and I wonder whether I crossed a line. She’s legal, but maybe as her coach I shouldn’t. But it’s not like it has to be alcoholic. I’ll buy her a coffee. A coke. Whatever.

“Sure,” she says. “Here?”

I wince as the music morphs into a techno beat that reminds me of my hangover the other week. “No. If that’s okay?”

“That’s fine. Just give me a few minutes?”

I nod and watch as she goes over to a desk near the front door, picking up a purple messenger bag and coat while chatting to a gray-haired man wearing a button-down shirt who looks even more out of place in the student bar than I do. After a couple of minutes, she shakes his hand and heads back over to me.

“Ready?” she asks.

I gesture toward the door and follow her out. She looks great in tight leather pants and a loose-fitting off the shoulder top made of a sheer material that just about shows the strapless bra she’s wearing underneath. I know I shouldn’t be eyeing up a student, but as her ponytail swishes with her confident stride, I can’t help it.

There’s a small wine bar across the street and we make our way there in silence. It’s only once we’re seated at a high table with a glass of Malbec each that I speak.

“You’re really good.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“Who was the old dude?” I ask. “The one you were talking to at the end?”

“My professor,” she says, averting her eyes. “I’m taking a music production course online. Tonight was an assignment.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. That’s intense. I’m sure you aced it, though. The crowd loved you.”

While she’s being shy, I let myself drink her in over the top of my own glass. The dark makeup around her eyes is shimmery, making her irises look like the night sky. It’s mesmerizing.

“Thanks, Coach,” she says, still staring into her wine glass.

“Eesh.” I wince. “Could you call me Doug when we’re not at practice? I feel like I’m creeping.”

Her lips press together, and she looks at me in the same strange way she did when I asked her if she wanted a drink.

“What?” I ask. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, then blows harshly through her nose as if she’s decided on something. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

I frown, trying to imagine what on earth I could have forgotten that would have pissed Joy off. “Remember what?”

Her mouth twitches and then she laughs. All I can do is sit there and watch as she giggles loudly. I’m confused as hell, but my own mouth tilts into a smile as I watch her rock on her chair.

“Seriously,” I try again. “What did I forget? Your birthday or something? Shit. Is it today?”

It’s the only thing I can think of that women might be pissed about me forgetting, but it just makes her laugh harder.

“Why the hell would I care if you forgot my birthday,Coach?” she manages through her laughter. “I’m not even mad you forgot. It’s just funny.”

Placing my wine glass down, I scratch my beard, nerves beginning to dig at my gut. “Joy? Please, tell me.”

“We kissed,” she hisses, glancing around as if the people near us might care.

My eyebrows shoot up. “What? When?”

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