I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. It’s—” Knox’s eyes go round. “He’s coming. How do you want to play this?”
Panic floods my veins. “Well, I’m certainly not going to tell him we, you know…”
I gesture back and forth between us.
Knox’s lips go flat. “So you just want to pretend we don’t know each other?”
“Do you have a better idea?” God only knows how my father would react to the truth. Surely Knox has as much to lose here as I do. Adam could bench him. Or worse. “All of this is new.” My relationship with my father, and with Knox. “We’re still figuring things out. I think it’s best for now.”
The door opens and my father saunters out with the wine in one hand and three wine glasses in the other. “I see you found each other.”
We leap apart like two teens caught playing seven minutes in heaven.
“I was just about to introduce myself,” Knox says smoothly, “but since you’re here, why don’t you do the honors, Coach?”
Adam beams with pride as he sets the wine glasses on the outdoor bar. “Ava, this is Knox St. James. He’s the captain of the Atlanta Gliders. We go way back.” He turns to Knox, looking surprisingly bashful. “And this beautiful young woman is my daughter, Ava Washington.” Before Knox can reply, he throws up his hands in self-defense. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is all pretty new to me too. I wanted to tell you sooner, but Iwasn’t sure how to bring it up, and training camp didn’t feel like the right time.”
Knox quirks a brow. “So you decided to just spring it on me?”
Whatever their dynamic, it clearly goes beyond player and coach.
“It wasn’t so much a decision as the fact that I ran out of time.” Adam has the good sense to look chagrined as he pours the wine. “Ava is the Gliders’ new mental performance coach. She starts tomorrow.” He turns that proud dad smile on me, and my cheeks heat. “She’s going to help get you knuckleheads in line so we can win some games this season.”
No pressure, then.
I watch Knox for a reaction, but he remains stoic, giving nothing away.
How is this my life?
I read all the bios for the Gliders coaching staff and players. Of course I did. I’m a professional and I need to be able to hit the ground running tomorrow. But I didn’t study their headshots because I didn’t want to form first impressions based on PR photos.
Not that it matters. There’s no way I would’ve connected this burly, bearded man with his clean-cut headshot.
Truthfully, they all sort of blended together after a while, but I should have recognized his name at least.
Adam passes me a glass of pinot, and I make myself comfortable at the bar. I sip my wine and rack my brain, mentally reviewing the player roster. Finally, it clicks.
Lennox St. James.
The details slot into place. Twenty-seven. Center. Team captain.
Sweeter than stolen honey.
I banish the thought. Knox’s cooperation will be critical in turning this team around.
“As captain,” Adam says, handing Knox a glass, “I expect you to spread the word that Ava is off-limits. If any of the guys so much as look at my baby girl, I’ll break their fingers.”
The urge to point out that I’m not a baby, and am in fact a grown woman who is sittingright here,rises hard and fast, but I bite my tongue.
Pointing out that he missed the first twenty-eight years of my life would be an exercise in frustration, and our relationship is tenuous enough. I don’t want to say or do anything that might damage it before it has a chance to develop.
Even if he insists on treating you like a child?
Yes, even then, which is ironic, given he’s never actually raised a child.
It’s not his fault.