He wasn’t looking my way and still I tucked a strand of wayward hair behind my right ear, feeling highly visible. I used to be conceited about being known as a ‘cute girl’. Boys looked at me and while their jaws never dropped, they approved of what they saw. Now, sometimes the mirror surprised me by showing a girl who looked a lot younger than I felt inside. That girl would still be considered ‘cute’ even with the wary distance in her eyes and the lack of a smile, but that girl went out of her way to avoid being seen.
I’d nearly forgotten about the presence of Gus until he drove the mower over and parked only inches from the heels of my sneakers.
I swiveled, annoyed and ready to show it. “Watch it, Gus.”
He picked his teeth with a fingernail. “So what now, boss?”
I tried to look properly authoritative with a glare. “Now you can put the mower back in the shed.”
“You got the key.” He walked away. “Put it away your damn self.”
“Gus!”
He flipped me off.
“Asshole.” I glared at his back.
“Everything all right?” Mr. Polo Shirt materialized at my side.
I hadn’t even heard him approach. He must have bounded over here like a cheetah. As he peered down at me from beneath the brim of his baseball cap, his face was full of well meaning concern. He might be the type that held doors open for strangers and paid the bill for the customer in line behind him. We’d never stood this close and so I’d never had a chance to appreciate just how absurdly good looking he was. My tongue became stuck in my mouth while his blue eyes examined me.
“Whoola,” I managed to say. A noise between a grunt and a gargle.
He continued to appraise me, although his right eyebrow lifted a notch. I needed to say something. A real word would be perfect. If only my tongue would consent to cooperate with my brain.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Everything’s good. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
He jerked his head in the direction Gus had disappeared to. “Seemed like he was giving you a hard time.”
I’d like YOU to give me a hard time.
Now where in the hell had that thought come from?
My cheeks burned.
This must be his fault. It ought to be a crime for a guy to walk around radiating so much casual sexiness.
He’d dropped his equipment bags in the grass and he crossed his arms over his impressive chest as he waited for me to respond. He was so tall. And he smelled good. Like spearmint and pine woods. I fought the irresistible urge to press my cheek to his shirt and inhale.
“Everything really is fine,” I told him. And everything was fine. Except for the instant crush I’d developed on this guy, whatever his name was.
“I’m Thomas,” he said, as if he could hear my thoughts. He uncrossed his arms and held out a hand.
“Gracie.” My hand all but disappeared into his. The brief contact did strange things to secret places that had been untouched for ages. I yanked my hand away and stowed it behind my back. I feared it would feel compelled to run its palm over the powerful planes of his chest.
“Coach!” called one of the kids who were still clustered by the field entrance.
Thomas held up one finger to signal he would be just a moment. There were surgical scars on his hand. They must not be very old. The lines of the scar tissue were still visible.
Thomas was undaunted by the way I’d cringed over his handshake. He grinned at me. “I’ve seen you around here. You work on Viktor’s crew sometimes.”
“Yes.”
Thomas was patient. He waited for me to continue.
“Um, he’s my uncle. I live with him and I’ve been running the company while he recovers from his surgery.”
A slight frown shadowed his features. “I didn’t know Viktor had health issues. Is he going to be all right?”
“Yes.” The idea of something happening to Viktor set off small panic bombs in my chest. “He’s home recovering now and I have a nurse looking in on him when I can’t be there.”
Thomas was still troubled about Viktor’s well being. “He’s a hell of a nice guy. I’ve been coming here since the place opened and Viktor’s always taken good care of the grounds. Whenever he saw me he made the time to ask how my training was going.”
Viktor had never mentioned Thomas to me but I had no doubt Thomas was telling the truth. Viktor was one of those rare humans who truly cared about people. A sour thickness in my throat warned of rising tears and I focused on the toes of my tennis shoes. Of course Viktor would be all right. The world couldn’t make do without him.
“Is there anything I can do to help out?” Thomas asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Tiny bits of grass were stuck to the dirty shoe canvas. I knew keeping my head down would seem strange and unfriendly but I couldn’t force myself to look up into Thomas’s sympathetic blue-eyed gaze.
Awkward silence ensued.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I pivoted and race walked toward the exit, rake in hand. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I really did have work to do. It was safe to assume that Thomas also had work to do.
“Hey, lady!” shouted one of the gum chewing ten year olds who were pounding their small fists into baseball mitts. “You left your hat.”
I froze and turned around. Thomas remained in the middle of the field and now he had my hat. In fact he’d deposited it on his head, right over his baseball cap. Either he had a sense of humor or he was making fun of me.
Thomas made no move to bring the hat to me and it would seem weird if I took off without retrieving it. My head stayed down as I walked toward him, a lot more slowly than I’d fled.
Thomas removed my hat.
“Thanks.” I practically snatched it from him.
He watched me. “Gracie, are you going to be around for a while?”
There was something riveting about the sound of my name being spoken by an insanely hot guy. I managed to meet his gaze this time.
“Uh, yeah, but I won’t be in your way. We’ve got some work to do around the perimeter but we’re done with the fields.” I swallowed and repeated myself. “I won’t be in your way.”
He nodded. “That’s not why I asked.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“I wanted to invite you to lunch.”
“Huh?”
“My favorite lunch spot is Chicken Bowl, just down the street. But we can go somewhere else if you want. It’s my treat.”
“You want to take me to lunch?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t even know me.”
Thomas was not offended. He shrugged. “How well do people need to know each other to have lunch?”
“I don’t know.” The offer was unexpected and produced a fleeting rush of happiness. I wanted to have lunch with him. I wanted to hear about the scars on his hand and learn if he had a girlfriend and wonder about the taste of his lips. But I didn’t know how to do such ordinary things anymore and Hot Coach Thomas would be a bad starting point. It would be like trying to hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon when you’re hardly capable of doing a jumping jack.
“I can’t,” I said. “I mean, I don’t take a long lunch break and I can’t just run off on the guys.”