Below the Belt(52)

“Good, good.” The chair creaked under his weight as Coach Ace leaned back and laced his hands over his stomach. “And I can tell there’s more.”

“There is.” She took a breath; let it out slowly. “I made the mistake of not checking with you on the plans for the day. I know they were changed at the last minute, and that was unforeseen due to the . . .” She waved her hand in the general direction of the catwalk and the blood-like threat. “But the instant you made new arrangements, I should have asked you details on the location. If there was shade, if there was a place to refill our jugs. And, barring that, I should have asked for another fifteen or twenty minutes to load up a tent to bring with us. That’s my mistake.”

She waited, and he nodded. “I assume you’re going to tell me my mistake now.”

“Let’s just call it . . . What Would Cook Have Done Differently?” She smiled, hoping to soften the blow. But she’d say what she had to anyway. “The temp was way too hot to pull off the conditioning exercise you did. I should have stopped you sooner, and again, that was my error.”

“Seems you made several today.”

That stung. But she wouldn’t let it deter her. “I did. That doesn’t change the fact that I’d like to work with you in the future on conditioning and outdoor workouts. Inside, we’re shaded from the sun, and—pathetic though it feels sometimes—there’s air conditioning. Plus, the training room is inches away. Out there, in a different location, I’m limited. I could have helped him better if I’d had more equipment. And he might not have needed help to begin with if you hadn’t pushed them all to that point. I have no doubt that another ten minutes and I would have had four or five more Marines handling heatstroke. As it is, I think many of them will be running at half speed, max, for this evening’s program.”

Coach Ace watched her with his dark eyes, not moving a muscle. He really was like a ghost, as she’d heard some of the guys say in her room.

“So you want to tell me how to do my job.”

“Not even a little. I want to work with you to keep your guys healthy. I think you do, too. Your openness to try things like yoga and stretching was so encouraging. I want to keep moving along that train of thought.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “And think of this . . . the more Marines you keep, the less paperwork you have to do.”

He barked a laugh out at that. “You’ve got a point. Fine. If you want to take on the extra work, check with Coach Willis tonight. He’s got the list of workouts we plan before each practice. Though I’ll warn you, we go off script from time to time, when an ass-kicking is warranted.”

“Totally understood. I just want to be kept in the loop, that’s all. And I’d also like to have about ten minutes this evening before practice begins so I can give the guys the warning signs of heatstroke. Just things to look out for so they can come tell me if they’re feeling any of it.”

“That I can do. Ten minutes are all yours, when we start back up after break.”

She stood, then sat when he waved her back down. “Yes?”

“Got a call a few minutes before you arrived from headquarters. We’re normally assigned a liaison that keeps track of our business stuff when we travel. They’re usually not assigned until closer toward tournament time. But with this second . . . issue,” he said, eyes glancing up for a moment toward the defaced catwalk, “the brass want us to start meeting with her now. Since your room was trashed, she’ll likely be coming to see you later this evening. So there’s your warning.”

“Sure thing. No problem.” She hesitated. “Are these two incidents linked?”

“If they’re not, then my mama can’t cook.” He winked. “And my mama’s Betty Crocker’s first cousin.”

That made her grin. “Lucky you. I’ll see you later, sir.” She stepped out of the office and nearly ran into Brad. “Oh!”

“Hey.” He grabbed her upper arms and squeezed lightly. “You okay?”

“No harm done.” She smiled, but he kept watching her with those careful eyes, and she felt her lip start to tremble.

No, no, absolutely unacceptable. Pull it together, Cook.

“I’m fine. Johnson will be fine, and that makes it easier. I made mistakes, though.” And part of her wondered why she’d made them. Was it because she was distracted? Had the spray painted catwalk been to blame? Or Brad?

No, as far as that was concerned, she knew without a doubt that Brad, and their relationship, had nothing to do with the mistake. She’d made the error, no question. But not because of Brad.

“That’s good, that’s good.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders lightly. “We all need to be more careful about getting overheated. It’s not your fault.”

Just then, Marianne wanted nothing more than to let her forehead drop to his chest and give herself five minutes of relief from the negative thoughts still swirling around in her mind. But here was definitely not the place, and now wasn’t the time. So she took a steadying breath instead and stepped back. She started to offer to eat lunch with him in her training room, but caught sight of two more Marines over Brad’s shoulder, heading straight for them.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you later.”

“Later tonight?” He watched her intently. She nodded. “Okay. See you later.” He stepped around her and knocked on the coach’s door, asking if he had a moment. As Brad stepped in, she took another deep breath.