Coach, p.1
Coach, page 1
COACH
Copyright © 2022 by Devney Perry LLC
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-950692-63-7
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Editing:
Elizabeth Nover, Razor Sharp Editing
Proofreading:
Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services
Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading
Kaitlyn Moodie, Moodie Editing
Cover:
Sarah Hansen © Okay Creations
OTHER TITLES
The Edens Series
Christmas in Quincy - Prequel
Indigo Ridge
Juniper Hill
Garnet Flats
Jasper Vale
Crimson River
Clifton Forge Series
Steel King
Riven Knight
Stone Princess
Noble Prince
Fallen Jester
Tin Queen
Jamison Valley Series
The Coppersmith Farmhouse
The Clover Chapel
The Lucky Heart
The Outpost
The Bitterroot Inn
The Candle Palace
Maysen Jar Series
The Birthday List
Letters to Molly
Lark Cove Series
Tattered
Timid
Tragic
Tinsel
Timeless
Runaway Series
Runaway Road
Wild Highway
Quarter Miles
Forsaken Trail
Dotted Lines
Calamity Montana Series
The Bribe
The Bluff
The Brazen
The Bully
The Brawl
The Brood
Standalones
Ivy
Rifts and Refrains
A Little Too Wild
Coach
Holiday Brothers
The Naughty, The Nice and The Nanny
Three Bells, Two Bows and One Brother’s Best Friend
A Partridge and a Pregnancy
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Preview to Indigo Ridge
PROLOGUE
FORD
Millie slammed her textbook closed so hard it shook my dining room table. “I hate philosophy.”
“It’s the worst.” The class, definitely. Having it with Millie? Not so bad.
She groaned and, with a huff, blew a lock of smooth, brown hair out of her face. It fell right back across her cheek.
I lifted my hand, about to tuck it behind her ear, but caught myself. Millie was . . . the best. The best of the best. She deserved it from the people in her life because that was what she gave them.
She was my best friend. But damn, I wanted to kiss her. To say to hell with our friendship and see what we could make of this spark between us.
Except I’d just come out of a long-term relationship, and I wanted her to know that if—when—we got together, it wasn’t a rebound thing.
I’d kiss her. One day soon.
Just not yet.
So I kept my hands to myself and scanned the sheet of notes I’d taken in our philosophy lecture yesterday. Over half were to Millie and had nothing to do with the course.
Want to get pizza after this?
She’d circled the yes I’d written beneath.
Think Professor Smythe owns multiple versions of that sweater vest?
Another yes.
If he says absolutism one more time I might scream.
That one had earned me a muted laugh.
Beyond that, my notes were a wreck. “None of these make any sense.”
“I think if I can just manage a B, this class won’t entirely tank my GPA and ruin my collegiate career.”
“I just want to pass.” I dragged a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair. Then I reached toward Millie, touching the button at the base of her throat. “You have a stain on your shirt.”
“What?” She gasped and looked down, just in time for me to flick the tip of her nose.
I chuckled as she swatted my hand away, fighting a smile as she glared. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”
“Shut up.” She shoved at my arm, her cheeks flushing.
Millie was never more beautiful than when she blushed. And God, she was fun to flirt with. Whenever I’d tried playing with Sienna like that, she’d thrown a temper tantrum because she couldn’t take a fucking joke.
“Okay, let’s finish this.” I sat up straighter, inching my chair closer to Millie’s to peer at her notes, hoping they were better than mine. The scent of her perfume filled my nose, citrus with a sweetness that was all Millie. I held it in, letting it sink deep, then glanced at her profile.
Our gazes locked. Those pretty hazel eyes searched mine. “I, um . . .”
Too close. We were too close. Best friends didn’t sit like they were seconds from crawling into each other’s laps. They didn’t find ways to touch. They didn’t stare at each other like they’d die without a kiss.
What were we supposed to be studying again?
But before I could back away, retreat to my side of the dining room table, she surged.
Millie’s lips crashed onto mine so fast it took me a second to realize she’d kissed me. Was kissing me. It took my brain a moment to process that her lips were even softer than I’d imagined.
I wasn’t supposed to kiss her. Not yet.
Why was that again?
Fuck it.
I licked the seam of her mouth, earning a mewl. Then she opened for me, and with one sweet taste, I was done for. The fire I’d spent too long trying to tame coursed through my veins. So I leaned into it, kissing her until she was breathless. Until I knew if I didn’t stop, I’d take her to my bedroom.
Not yet.
I’d do it right this time. I’d do right by Millie. So I broke away, my heart racing, and took in the pretty color of her cheeks.
“Uh . . . sorry. Not exactly what we were supposed to be doing tonight.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I loved that she’d instigated our first kiss.
Millie wasn’t bold like some girls. That was part of why I liked her. She had a shy streak that was so goddamn adorable. But fuck, it was hot that she’d taken charge.
“I think I’m going to give up on studying,” she said.
“Are you sure?” This time, I did tuck that lock of hair behind her ear, and it made the pink in her face flame brighter.
“Yeah. I’d better go.” She stood and began collecting her things, shoving them in her backpack. Her fingers fumbled with a pen. Her eyes stayed glued to the books, notepads and worksheets on the table.
There was nothing for her to be shy about, not with me. But I wouldn’t push. Not yet.
So I helped her pack her things, then took her backpack before she could sling it over a shoulder, carrying it through the house. I opened the front door for her, then handed over her bag. “See ya, Mills.”
“Bye, Ford.” She smiled, then stepped outside, giving me a little finger wave before walking to her car.
I stayed on the threshold, lifting a hand as she reversed out of the driveway, then closed the door once her taillights disappeared. A laugh escaped, filling the entryway. “Damn.”
That kiss . . . it was good. Really good. But I’d give her better.
I dug my phone from my pocket, my brain racing about what to text Millie. I wasn’t ready to say good night to her yet. Except before I could decide what to type, a knock came at the door.
I ripped it open. Maybe Millie had come back and—
It wasn’t Millie on my porch.
CHAPTER ONE
FORD
“Welcome aboard, Coach.”
I set my pen on the contract I’d just signed. “Glad to be here.”
Kurt Howard, athletics director and my new boss, stretched an arm across his desk.
As I shook his hand, I hoped like hell this hadn’t been a mistake.
O ne year. I’d agreed to be the head football coach for the Treasure State Wildcats for one year. If after this season I realized Mission wasn’t the right place for Joey and me, then we’d pack our bags and find somewhere new. As long as it wasn’t Seattle, I was game for just about anywhere.
“How’d the move go?” Kurt asked as he stood, leading the way out of his office.
“Not bad,” I lied. “Moving company made it easy.”
They’d packed everything from my house in Seattle and loaded it onto a truck. While Joey and I had been on a plane destined for Montana, they’d hauled our belongings and my new Silverado over the interstate.
Getting to Montana had been relatively simple. The hard part was going to be settling in now that we were here.
The moving crew had arrived one day after us to unload the semi. Unload, but not unpack. That job was on me, which meant my house was full of boxes and randomly placed pieces of furniture.
This morning, I’d spent an hour searching for coffee cups. Finding a single, white ceramic mug had required me to riffle through five boxes full of kitchen shit I hadn’t used in years.
It was tempting to only unpack the necessities. Part of me wondered if it would be smarter to stick with the essentials only, at least until the season got underway. After some practices and a game or two, I’d have a better idea if this could become a long-term gig.
If not, well . . . less stuff to repack if I just kept the boxes.
“How’s your daughter?” Kurt asked. “Is she excited to be in Montana?”
“Definitely,” I lied again, following him down the hallway of the administrative section of the fieldhouse.
Joey didn’t want to be in Montana. On the flight out, she’d refused to speak to me. She’d been sweet as pie to the flight attendants, but other than the occasional glare, I might as well have been a stranger in seat 2B.
She was only nine, but her mother had taught her how to deliver one hell of a cold shoulder.
Joey’s room was the only one I’d fully unpacked—it hadn’t scored me any points. Even though her things were there, it wasn’t home. Not yet. We just needed time. Time on our own. Time in the new house. Time in Mission.
Maybe after a few weeks, we’d find a new normal. And maybe one day, Joey would realize why I’d taken this job.
It was a chance for a fresh start. A chance for a new adventure. A chance to get some distance from her mother. But Joey was just a kid, and I’d made a decision that had moved her away from her friends, her school and the only home she’d ever known.
I checked my watch as I followed Kurt. Now that my contract was signed, hopefully this meeting would wrap up soon. It would do Joey and me both some good to cut loose on a Friday afternoon, get some ice cream, find a park and blow off some steam. Throw a ball around or something. There couldn’t be much more to cover today, right?
As Kurt and I passed a row of cubicles, heads popped up from behind the short walls. I nodded and smiled at the few people who waved. New faces to go with remodeled spaces.
I’d spent a lot of time in this building as a student athlete, back when I’d called myself a Wildcat. In those days, the coaches’ offices had been up here and the administration had been in an entirely different building.
But since, the place had undergone a major facelift. The floor was open, cubicles at its center. Along the exterior walls were private offices, like Kurt’s, that overlooked the parking lot behind the fieldhouse and, beyond that, the football stadium.
Desks were crowded with laptops and monitors and Wildcat water bottles. A few cubes had the school’s pennant pinned to the wall. And being it was Friday, everyone was decked out in royal blue and silver.
Go Big Blue.
How many times had the team chanted that in the locker room before a game? Now I got to call myself a Wildcat again. Pride surged, just being here where my football career had started.
“Right this way.” Kurt stopped by a door, shoving it open to a stairwell.
My hand skimmed over the blue iron railing as we made our way to the first floor. I checked my watch again. Maybe I’d have time to swing by the bookstore in the student union to pick up some apparel. Gray slacks and a navy button-down had been my only options when I’d packed my travel bag in Seattle. I owned a lot of blue, except everything had the Seahawks logo.
Maybe a new Wildcat sweatshirt and tee for Joey would buy me a smile.
“Your office is on this floor in the coaches’ wing,” Kurt said as we rounded a landing, jogged down another flight of stairs and pushed through the exit on the first floor. “We remodeled this place about five years ago. Built new men’s and women’s locker rooms. Relocated the weight room and added a state-of-the-art fitness facility. We also created a designated place for coaches so you’re not as far removed from the players.”
“It looks great.” Clean. Open. The once dark, tunneled hallways had been expanded. Bright-white lights illuminated the concrete floors and light gray walls.
“Normally we’d have given you the full tour during the interview process, but . . .”
But last-minute exceptions had been made, by both parties.
My interviews with Kurt had been done over the phone and through video conferences. The first had been just twenty days ago.
This past winter, the previous head football coach was let go after a scandal hit the front page of every major sports media outlet in the country. The minor ones too.
Kurt and the athletic department spent months attempting to repair their reputation and recruit a new head coach. They found a good guy—I’d actually met him once at a charity fundraiser years ago. Experienced. Professional. Highly in demand.
Apparently, TSU extended a verbal agreement. They thought he accepted, pending a draft contract from their legal team. But wires got crossed, and three days after the alleged verbal agreement, their new coach showed up on SportsCenter, having accepted a position at Kansas State.
With the season approaching fast, Kurt was forced to scramble for a new coach. But few were willing to come here knowing there was a mess to clean up. When rejection followed rejection, Kurt asked for suggestions from the coaching staff. My buddy Toren—the defensive coordinator for the Cats—tossed out my name.
Toren knew I didn’t mind a mess, especially since this one paled in comparison to the cluster that was my personal life. And he’d also known that I was looking to leave Seattle.
Now, less than a month later, here I was.
The hiring process had been a whirlwind, on both sides. Kurt’s desperation had come across loud and clear. Maybe I could have exploited that, but getting out of Seattle had been more important than scoring the perfect contract.
One year.
We’d give this one year.
My annual salary was a fraction of what I was used to with the Seahawks, but I’d saved enough money for a lifetime. What was important about this job wasn’t the bonus provisions or the automatic extension clauses, but the location.
Mission was tucked into a valley beside the Mission Mountains in western Montana. It had grown in the past decade to a city with a decent-sized airport and plenty of commerce. The university was still the cornerstone of the economy, but I suspected before too long, that would change as more businesses in the area flourished. But despite its growth, Mission still had small-town roots.
Joey would have space to breathe here. We wouldn’t go out to dinner and get mobbed by fans wanting autographs and pictures. And Sienna, for the time being, was two states away.
