And then he was gone.
Rainey looked out the window again. Yep, Mark was still out there, batting pop flies to the girls for catching practice. He’d given them directions on how to improve and they were doing their best to follow.
And failing, a lot.
Never giving up, Mark kept at them, not afraid to get right in there to show them exactly what he wanted. He moved with easy grace and intensity, and she flashed back to a few days prior, when he’d moved inside of her with that same grace and intensity.
The memory made her legs wobble. She pressed her forehead to the window. The girls were trying to do what Mark wanted, tossing him back the balls as soon as he hit them.
Sharee was the fastest and the best, even with the healing bruise on her face and sullen attitude. She’d missed a practice, then showed up today without a word of explanation. Rainey had tried to press the girl for details on what was going on at home, asking if she needed any help, interference,
Which might have something to do with the phone call Rainey had taken yesterday from the girl’s father, the second extremely obnoxious “mind your own fucking business” phone call. Martin needed a new tune to sing.
Sharee rocketed a ball to Mark at the same time as Pepper. Mark caught Sharee’s, and took Pepper’s ball in the crotch.
Though she couldn’t hear the collective gasp that went up from the entire team, Rainey sensed it as Mark bent at the waist. Whirling, she ran out of her office, hitting the field, pushing her way through the circle of girls around Mark. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, just sucked in another breath.
“Mark?”
Still bent over, hands on his thighs, he held up a finger indicating he needed a minute.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Stop talking.”
It was late enough to call practice, so Rainey excused the girls. As they shuffled by, they offered a chorus of “Sorry, Coach” and “get better, Coach.”
When she was alone with Mark, Rainey asked, “Do you need a doctor? Ice for the swelling?”
With a slight groan, he finally straightened and sent her a dark glare.
“What?” she asked. “That’s what you do for an injury. You ice it, right? It eases the pain and swelling.”
“This is not the kind of pain and swelling I need you to manage for me,” he grated out.
“Are you sure?”
He drew another deep breath and gained some of his color back as he walked stiffly past her. “I’m fine.”
“I’m just trying to help. Offer a little TLC.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you really want to get your hands on my cock again, then-” He broke off at her surprised gasp. “Oh, sorry, we never did decide what you deemed an acceptable term for that particular body part, did we?”
She lifted her chin. “Clearly, you’re feeling better.”
At that, a hint of amusement came into his eyes. “Yeah. But any time you want to kiss it and make it all better, you know where I’m staying.”
A FEW NIGHTS later, the Mammoths were scheduled for an exhibition game for a huge local charity event at home in Sacramento against the San Jose Sharks.
Rick drove Lena and Rainey to the game. Rainey didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t to sit with the players’ girlfriends and wives, with a crystal-clear view of the ice and an even better one of the Mammoths’ bench.
Mark was there with his players, of course, wearing his hat low, mouth grim as the tight game stayed tied all the way to the end, when his team pulled a goal out of nowhere in overtime.
Rainey was pretty sure she never took her eyes off Mark, not even when Casey was body checked into the end boards or when James took a flip pass to the head. Afterwards, Rick took her and Lena to the team room. There was a huge spread of food, reporters and players. Everyone was eating, relaxing, speaking to the media…having a good time.
Mark was in his big office off to the side, a large wall of glass revealing him standing at a huge desk, on his phone and laptop at the same time.
“Post game crap,” Rick said, handing her a drink. “The Mammoths are working on their media coverage.”
She nodded and continued to watch Mark in his element until he lifted his head and leveled his gaze unerringly on her.
She caught his surprise in the slight widening of his eyes before he left his office and came to her.
“You didn’t know I was here,” she said when he stood directly in front of her.
“Rick is a sneaky bastard.”
“We had great seats,” she said. “Usually I sit way up in the nose bleed section-” She broke off, but it was too late. Her secret was out. She met his gaze, his eyes full of laughter.
“You come to the games,” he said.
She sighed. “Sometimes. But mostly I watch them on TV.”
“To see me?”
“Well let’s not go overboard.”
“Admit it.”
She sighed again. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
His grin widened, and two players across the way gawked at him. So did the members of his coaching staff. In fact, everyone near them stared.
Apparently he didn’t grin like that very often here at work.
“You don’t hate me,” he said, not paying the people around them any attention whatsoever. “You like me. And you know something else?” He leaned in. “You want me again, bad.”
His mouth on her ear made her shiver but he was laughing, the bastard, his body shaking with it. She gave him a shove and stalked off to the food table. She needed meaningless calories, and lots of them.
Because yeah, she wanted him.
Bad.
She ate with Lena and Rick, then watched the team gather together and shove a present in Mark’s hands.
“Just a little something from us, Coach,” Casey said with far too much innocence. “To protect you when you’re coaching the girls.”
Mark gave him a long look and opened the box.
As his players hooted and hollered, he pulled out a jockstrap.
Mark’s laughing eyes met Rainey’s and heat bolted through her.
He didn’t say it out loud, he didn’t have to, but she felt her face heat. Because she wished he’d gotten a box of condoms too…
TWO DAYS LATER, Mark gathered the teenagers in the rec center parking lot. They’d had two home games so far, and had won one, lost the other. Today they were heading to their first away game against a neighboring rec league in Meadow Hills, twenty-five miles east of Santa Rey.
The guys took one bus, the girls another. Mark boarded after his last player, then stopped short at the sight of Rainey, sitting next to the driver.
“I try to go to as many of the away games as I can,” she told him. “Especially the first one, in case a coach can’t handle it.”
He raised a brow. “Pretty sure I can handle it.” He turned to take a seat but she pointed to the iPad in his hands. “What’s that for?”
“I have stats I want to go over with the girls before the game.” He pulled up a file for her. “See?”
She stared down at the numbers. “These stats aren’t for our team.”
“No, they’re for the team we’re playing today.”
