“But they don’t hurt, either,” I say.
“Let’s get down to business,” Brax says, pulling out his phone from his locker and scrolling through the wedding week schedule. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of romantic opportunities. How about the spa day?”
“Too complicated. Besides, she’ll be with the other bridesmaids.”
“Bummer,” Rourke says. “I was going to suggest foot massages. Works every time with Janie.”
Leo moves to look over Brax’s shoulder at the screen. “What about the joint bachelor and bachelorette party?”
“Bachelor parties are not the place to declare your feelings about someone,” I say.
“Wait.” Brax snaps his fingers. “Didn’t Carmen mention something about dance lessons for the wedding?”
“I was planning to skip that.”
“You can’t skip it,” Brax protests. “Jaz said you’ll be learning the tango for the wedding.”
“I’m not doing it. My mom forced me into dance lessons as a kid, and I hated every minute.”
“Which is why it would be perfect,” Leo says. “She knows how much you hate dancing. So she’ll be impressed if you do it for her.”
“That actually makes sense,” Tate agrees with a nod. “Women love when you attempt something idiotic for them.”
“What?” I frown. “No.”
“It’s settled, then.” Brax smiles. “We’re giving you a crash course in tango. Right now.”
I look around at all of them. “You’re still in towels.”
“I don’t see the problem.” Leo shrugs as he pulls up a tangoinstructional video on his phone. “We’re all adults. How hard can it be?”
“Very hard,” I say. “Which is why we’re not doing it. You’re one wrong move away from a locker room incident.”
Rourke slaps me on the shoulder. “Come on, Coach. It’s like dating. You learn by doing.”
“No one is learning anything by dancing with a man in a towel,” I shoot back. “That’s my only rule.”
“You have a lot of rules,” Miles observes.
Leo holds up his phone. “Okay, this guy promises to make anyone a tango master in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” I let out a dry laugh. “That’s a scam.”
He shoves the phone into my hand. Onscreen, an overly enthusiastic man in painfully tight black pants glides across a studio floor.
“See how he holds her?” Leo taps the screen, then smirks. “You do that…and she’ll be putty in your hand.”
Rourke squints at the phone. “Why is he staring at his partner like that?”
“That’s called passion,” Leo answers.
I point at the screen. “That’s called a restraining order waiting to happen.”
“You need to be ready for the wedding,” Brax insists. “And to romance her with the tango.”
I fold my arms. “I’ll be concentrating too hard on not tripping over my own feet to do any romancing.”
Leo waves our goalie over. “Miles! Get over here. You need to be the woman.”