Page 26 of Third and Ten

“No worries. Just make sure we’re friends.” I nudge my phone to signal my permission for her to make a friend request from my account.

“Okay,” she says before she takes the phone.

Nice.

I drive up to the store, and she hops out before I can make it over to open the door for her. It’s not like we’re on a date or anything, after all.

“All right, lead the way, Nurse Tenley,” I say, acquiring a shopping cart as we walk inside.

She glares at me with a suppressed smile as she motions toward an aisle with a diaper display at the end. I follow obediently as she skims the shelves, grabbing several different canisters of baby formula and dropping them into the cart. Then, she begins gesturing to boxes of diapers and wipes, while I add each selection to our haul. Our efficiency is impressive, and I have to remind myself that this isn’t an appropriate time to dwell on how natural it feels to shop for baby supplies with Tenley, even if the other shoppers are staring at us like we’re crazy for gathering enough formula to feed a nursery with no baby in sight.

“That should do it,” she announces, just as she ends up on the receiving end of another dirty look. I tip my head politely at the woman eying us up as she passes, and her expression softens. Hopefully she realizes there are more than enough diapers to go around.

“We can spend the rest on feminine-hygiene products…if that’s okay with you,” Tenley adds, ignoring the interaction.

“I trust your professional judgment.”

She smiles, seemingly pleased by my comment, and walks on. She obviously likes helping, and I’m beginning to suspect she’s enjoying my company, too. I trail closely behind her as she rounds another aisle, twirling her ponytail as her eyes scan the rows. Then she stops abruptly, bending over to examine a box on the bottom shelf. My heart thrums loudly as I take in an eyeful of her backside in those athletic leggings.

Oh, my damn.

I grip the handle on the shopping cart until my knuckles turn white, desperately trying to resist the urge to reach out and touch her, to find out if she feels as soft as she looks.

What in the hell is wrong with me? When did I become the kind of guy who stares at women and imagines…well, the kind of things I’m imagining right now?

She pops upright and tosses something into the buggy, and I clear my throat and turn my gaze away. But she does a double take, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why, Coach, are you blushing?”

My eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“Are you really that embarrassed by the tampon aisle?” she asks, trying not to laugh at my expense.

I shrug and smile coyly, relieved that she still seems oblivious to the way I’m always looking at her. “Maybe just a little honte. I’m not exactly used to accompanying a pretty lady through this department, so I’m afraid my role is best limited to pushing the cart and enthusiastically agreeing with your selections.”

She only shakes her head in amusement and turns back to the shelves. Then she adds a few more packages before deciding we have enough.

“Of course,” I hear her grumble when her phone sounds.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I push our cart over to the checkout line.

“Yeah, I just got a message from the hospital. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll have to go and check on one of my patients as soon as I can.”

I should be disappointed, but I’m too busy noticing that she doesn’t sound eager to leave. “That’s too bad. Now I’ll have to unload all these tampons by myself in front of the team,” I say, nudging her gently. She smirks at me, and my stomach flutters.

“Wow, that’s a lot of baby stuff,” blurts the cashier as we approach, bringing me back from my trance. I recognize her as one of my biology students.

“It’s for the tropical-storm victims,” Tenley explains.

“That’s nice,” Maddie remarks, glancing back and forth between us. She makes a call to the owner over their intercom system, and he walks over a minute later to help with our cause by offering us a discount.

“It’s nothing,” he says as Maddie moves over for him to punch in a special code on the register. “We’re just so thankful for everything you do, Coach.”

Tenley raises an eyebrow before paying with the cash we collected earlier, and I pile everything back into the cart.

“How about a photo? I’ll be making a big post later to recognize all of our donors,” I offer when our benefactor comes around to shake my hand.

Another employee agrees to take our picture, and I pull Tenley in to join us before she can protest. I place my hand on her shoulder, holding her a little more firmly this time, and she surprises me by leaning in as we pose. I don’t have to force my cheesy smile.

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