Page 6 of Third and Ten

I shake my head and laugh with him. “Oh, I saw it. And then you held your own again on the next one. You kept battling.”

“I did juke him on that kickoff return, too.”

The back of my hand makes a low clack against his shoulder pads. “There you go. I may have to let you start on special teams this year.”

His smile transforms into an ear-to-ear grin. “Sweet.”

“Need a lift today?” I lean in and ask a little lower. It’s not an offer I usually open for the whole team, but Ethan’s home situation is different. I try to help him out as often as I can without giving him special treatment, and he’s grateful each time I do. In fact, he’s probably one of my favorite students—friendly, obedient, kind, and hard-working—an anomaly among teenagers these days. Maybe being raised by his grandparents has given him a different perspective.

“Thanks, but I’m good. My Aunt Tenley’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh, right. I guess that means she’s back?”

“Just got in today. But I may need a ride home on the days she has to work late, so you’re not completely off the hook yet,” he says with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

I reassure him of my standing offer and follow him into the locker room, addressing a few more of the players before talking to each of my assistant coaches.

“See you tomorrow, bruh?” Blake asks as we walk outside together.

“Yep.” He opens his mouth to speak again, but I lift a finger to cut him off. “And before you ask—no. I’m not interested in your blind date this weekend.”

My brother rolls his eyes. “Lame. Why the hell not?”

“Mostly because we don’t share the same taste in women…or the definition of a good time, for that matter.”

“Come on, JD. The last couple of dates I set you up with were all hot.”

I shrug. “Maybe until I tried to engage them in conversation. Anyway, I think I’ve exhausted my viable options around here. I’m bored.”

“That’s only because you don’t allow any of them to ‘entertain’ you.”

I groan, sensing his need to say something else inappropriate. “Get out of here, Blake.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he concedes, tossing the football he’s been holding at my head. He’s taken to calling me that since he started volunteering as one of my assistant coaches, a reminder that he isn’t so keen on being told what to do by his younger brother. But Blake is the type of perfectionist who will do the job well and settle for conveying his resentment through a few passive-aggressive remarks.

I catch the ball as he walks off, then move to pick up some stray equipment near the bench. I’m squatting down to grab my clipboard when I notice a pair of black-and-gold-sneakered feet approaching, which look decidedly more feminine than I’m used to seeing near the sidelines. My eyes lift to scan the stranger standing on the other side of the fence.

Damn.

My stomach flips. She’s gorgeous.

She’s on the taller side, wearing fitted black scrubs and a white lab coat over what appears to be the most amazing hourglass figure I’ve ever seen on a real-life woman. I watch as her dark-blue eyes search the area around the locker room. Something about her face is vaguely familiar, and I continue gazing at her, inventorying a slightly upturned nose and shoulder-length, wavy blond hair. I like that she isn’t overly made up. I mean to look away after a while, but then she puts her hands on her hips, inadvertently opening her coat to reveal a tiny waist in contrast to the nicest set of big, beautiful—

Um, capital letters?

Her name and a couple of her credentials are embroidered over her chest pocket, which I admittedly only notice because I’m gaping at her amazing rack.

Tenley Robin, DNP, CNM

She must be relatively smart if she’s got multiple acronyms listed on that fancy lab coat.

“Um, hi? I’m here for Ethan,” she says with an awkward wave in front of my face, bringing me back from my thoughts. I don’t realize how hard I’m staring until she gives me an uncomfortable look.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Just kind of…blanked out for a second there,” I reply, attempting to cover up the fact that she caught me checking her out, even though I left my mouth open and everything. I scramble to form a coherent response until Ethan’s name triggers a few details from recent memory. “I’m Coach JD. You must be E’s Aunt Tenley. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I toss the football into a pile and transfer the clipboard to my left side so I can extend my right hand over the fence. She takes it reluctantly, and I don’t think I’ve been this nervous or excited about touching a girl since middle school. But she pulls her hand back and discreetly wipes it on her thigh as if she’s trying to rid herself of my cooties.

And now I’m staring again. How does she manage to make scrubs look so hot, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be frumpy and shapeless?

---