Page 63 of Press Your Luck

That evening,dressed in our best, I took Porter downstairs to the press conference. As we entered the bustling room, I found Bo standing in the back.

“You know, you could do this,” I said to him.

He shook his head and grinned. “No one goes up against Coach Withers like you do. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think...”

The memory of Bo calling me out for watching Naomi when we’d snuck over to check out her coaching and the team surfaced. He’d told me I was too old for her. If I were a bragging sort of man, I might tell him I wasn’t too old to get it up and fuck her hard.

“Can you watch Porter for me while I do this?”

“Yep. Good luck.”

I turned to Porter. "I'll be just up there.” I pointed to the front of the room where a table with microphones was set up. "If you need anything, just let Bo know."

“’Kay.”

With one last glance at my son, I stepped up to face the reporters and Naomi.Don’t let them see you sweat, I chanted in my head. And I didn’t mean sweat from nerves for the game. I meant nerves at being around Naomi and not being able to hide how much I wanted her.

My eyes locked onto Naomi’s as she entered from the other side. Good Christ, she looked fantastic. Like the winning coach she was.

"Good evening, Pierce," she said, her hazel eyes shimmering with amusement. She was ready to bring it on.

I rolled my shoulders, ready to go toe-to-toe with her. We shook hands and then sat, and then we were bombarded with questions about our strategies, our past experiences, and how we planned to handle the competition.

When she spoke, I’d look her way, because that was polite, right? But it was hard to focus on the next question because I was captivated by her hockey smarts and beauty. Hockey and grace weren’t words often used together, but Naomi had both.

"Coach Jackson," one reporter called. "How do you plan to counter Coach Withers's aggressive offensive tactics?"

I realized that they were finally calling her Coach Withers and not Naomi as they had in the beginning.

"By playing smarter, not harder," I replied without missing a beat. "We'll be focusing on our defense and making sure we capitalize on any openings they leave us." There wouldn’t be many now that Big Ed was fully on board with Naomi’s coaching. At least that’s what it seemed like.

"And what about you, Coach Withers?" another reporter chimed in. "What's your secret weapon against Coach Jackson's team?"

Naomi's lips curled into a sly grin. "Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it? But I promise you this, we won't be easy on them."

Her playful remark sent a ripple of laughter through the room, and I couldn't help but laugh along with her. The tension between us was palpable, and it felt like everyone in the room could sense it, too. I needed to cut the cord on it, but I couldn’t. I was well and truly fucked when it came to her.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add, Coach Jackson?" the reporter asked, turning back to me.

"Only that I look forward to seeing what Coach Withers has up her sleeve," I replied, my voice laced with amusement. "I have no doubt it'll be an exciting game."

When the press conference came to a close, I shook hands with her, and it was quite possible that I held on too long.

Then I made my way back to Porter with Bo, who had an arched brow and a smug expression on his face.

“How is it that every time you and her are together, things get really warm?” he said.

I made a face and nodded toward Porter. I didn’t need my son overhearing any sexual innuendo Bo was going to accuse me of.

“I’m just saying that I wasn't sure if we were still talking about hockey.”

“How about some ice cream?” I said to Porter.

“Yeah.”

I led him out of the room while Bo was behind us. For a moment, I wondered if Reed had told him about me and Naomi. No. He wouldn’t.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say things like that around Porter,” I murmured to him.

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