Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(43)

Kat knew this was the time she had to shit or get off the pot. Either accept Gary as her coach—interim—or stop wasting their time and leave. “What was my problem?”

“Hmm?”

Kat turned to him. “You said being scared to lose wasn’t my problem.”

“It’s not.”

She took in a deep breath for patience. It was like talking to Yoda. “So then what is my problem?”

“You’re scared of being forgotten.”

Her stomach clenched. That he saw through her bullshit so fast freaked her out more than a little.

Gary nodded toward court one where the girls each had a basket and were collecting balls. “Let’s go. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”



“Curbside service!” Aileen sang out as Kat pushed through the doors of the apartment. Her whole body hurt. Gary and Thomas had thrown the entire weight of their knowledge—not to mention the power of the ball machine—behind them and given her a run for her money. At times, she’d been certain she’d seen disappointment in Gary’s eyes.

For whatever reason, that had pushed her harder than anything else. More than the Russian cursing Peter had tossed her way or the fear of being left in the dust. Something about disappointing that crazy Hawaiian-print-wearing kook of a coach pushed her to be better. Want better.

“I wasn’t expecting you to have to take me.” Kat winced as the door closed behind her and they walked toward the parking garage. “Michael just said I’d have a ride to the game.”

“And here it is. Don’t worry, marshmallow breath is compensating me well.” Aileen grinned as she pointed toward a nice four-door sedan. When Kat opened up the passenger door, she noticed a car seat in the back.

“You’ve got a kid?”

“Sometimes,” was Aileen’s mysterious reply. Kat didn’t push.

“Marshmallow breath,” Kat said after a moment. “Michael?”

“Oh, yeah. A few seasons ago, I was doing one of those stupid Hidden Talent fillers for my old job. Not the greatest.” Aileen grimaced as she pulled out of the parking garage. “I had a lot of shitty assignments at my last place. Nothing that challenged me or anyone, really.”

“Marshmallows,” Kat prodded.

“Right, anyway, so I had to find Bobcats to do this stupid Hidden Talent segment, and a few of them good-naturedly stepped up. Michael was especially great,” she added with a grin, “proving he has a big mouth and can stuff over thirty marshmallows in there at one time.”

“That’s… wow.” Kat absorbed that for a moment, then felt her smile start to grow. “Michael Lambert, cutting it up with marshmallows.”

“He’s a funny guy.” Aileen made a turn, then glanced over quickly before looking back to the road. “He really is.”

Funny probably wasn’t the first adjective she’d have put alongside Michael Lambert’s name. Dedicated, resolute, maybe even persistent. But funny…

It was nice, she realized.

“You can look for it online, it’s still there.” Aileen grinned.

They pulled into the parking lot and joined the crowds walking in. “I’ve never been to a game before. Any NFL game,” Kat clarified, as clearly she wouldn’t have been to a Bobcats game given she just got to town. “Football wasn’t really my thing.”

“You don’t know what you’ve been missing then.” Aileen hooked elbows with her, and they walked in, Aileen showing tickets for the both of them. “Michael arranged it,” she said, cutting off Kat’s protests that she pay for her own ticket. “Don’t worry. Now, a lot of the time I sit in the press section, but today I’m hanging with you in the family seating. Let’s go.”

Kat followed along, refusing to admit just how eager she was to see Michael in action. The athlete in her wanted to appreciate the athlete in him. Just another dimension to this… their… whatever they had started.

And, she silently realized, she wanted to see him in those tight football pants.



Michael sat on the sidelines, waiting for Seattle to get done *footing around with the football and just hand over possession. Someone bumped into him, and he turned to see Trey standing beside him. Unusual because Trey usually sat down on his own bench and started going through the playbook meticulously. The man was a machine.

“What?”

Trey gave him a funny look, then trained his eyes back on the field. “What, what? Can’t a guy stand by his friend?”

“Not when he normally sits on the bench by his lonesome. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe my ass is sore,” Trey shot back, then sighed. “I’m tired of sitting on the bench. I did too much of it when I was hurt.” As he said it, Trey lifted his left leg a few inches and rolled his ankle.

Michael wondered if it was subconscious.

“How’s the new mentee going?”

Michael grunted and watched the Seahawks inch forward on the second down. Hold ’em, D. “It’s fine. I’m not really a mentor, you know. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Babysitting?”

That was definitely not how he wanted to think of it. “No, not babysitting. She just aggravates me and turns me around. I’ve never had the problems I have with her with any of the guys on the team. Because they actually listen to me. But does she? No.” He felt his blood start to boil just thinking about it. “She can’t stay out of trouble for five goddamn minutes. It’s not too much to ask, is it, to get a job where dancing on a bar isn’t a requirement? I—”