No big deal.
“I saw your daughter the other day,” I hear a crotchety old man grilling Noah at the front counter. The man is perched next to Noah with a cup of coffee and a full breakfast plate in front of him, but his focus seems set on Coach.
Noah is polite and doesn’t appear to have his food yet. A single cup of coffee sits in front of him. “Yeah, she came in for the first game.”
“And that man of hers? I didn’t see him.”
Noah’s jaw clenches. The man is protective of his daughter, as he should be. I want to swoop in and take the attention off him, but Noah doesn’t need a hero. He can handle himself. Even if he shouldn’t have to.
“That man is her husband and was a valued member of this community.”
The old man scoffs loudly at that, throwing his hands up. “He’s a disgrace. Defiling a sweet girl like your daughter how he did. He was her teacher.”
People are starting to pay attention. All eyes on them. Uh-oh. I can feel the tension from here.
“My daughter was not defiled. Her husband respected her and his position, and nothing happened,” Noah says through gritted teeth, and I’m worried as hell for him. I know he’s worried about losing his job, but a man can only take so much. “She loves him. They’re married. That’s all there is to it.”
“Well, you’re a better man than me.” The old man shakes his head and nudges the man on his other side, who’s closer to his age. “If it were me, he’d never lay a hand on another girl around here. That’s for damn sure.”
Noah’s jaw clenches again so damn tightly, I’m worried about his teeth—his perfect straight teeth that show only when he’s truly happy and smiling. Which thankfully, I’ve been able to see and want to see more of.
So these small-town morons are going to have to leave him alone.
I choose that moment to walk toward the bar and take the seat on the other side of Noah. “Gentlemen. Lovely morning, isn’t it?”
There’s that smile. God help me. Noah grins before he takes another sip of his coffee and turns his blue gaze on me. “Chance, I’m surprised to see you here.”
Chance. He called me something other than Leighton, and I love it.
I smirk. “Are you, now?”
We’re interrupted by the man on Noah’s other side before we can talk anymore, and I internally groan. “Coach Leighton, I’m surprised you’re showing your face in here after that game last night.”
He nudges the old man next to him, and they both chuckle like he told the world’s best joke. “Is that so?” I say with a polite smile, playing their game. “Because I’m pretty sure that scoreboard clocked a win.”
“Barely,” the man says, keeping his tone light. “It was a little too close for my liking.”
I notice the shift in Noah’s mood instantly and want to tell the old man just how little I care about what he likes, but instead I just simply say, “The next game will be even better.”
He waves me off, grumbling about something but thankfully going back to his breakfast. A woman comes out from the kitchen and introduces herself as Gretta, giving the coach a happy wink, and I notice she touches his arm and hand twice in the short time it takes for her to take our orders.
She’s pretty. Older. Maybe in her late forties. And she definitely has a thing for Noah, whether he sees it or not. She goes back to the kitchen, and I eye him closely. “What’s the story there?”
“Story?” he asks, taking a drink of his coffee.
“Yeah. She couldn’t keep her hands off you.”
He chuckles, drinking more of his coffee. “Gretta’s just friendly. Always has been.”
I shake my head at him, unable to hide my smile because the man is clueless. “Yeah. She wasn’t that nice to me.”
“Well, you’re a child. She already has two of those.”
I laugh. “Ass. I’m not a child.”
He’s grinning by the time she brings out our food—and yes, touching him two more times before she heads off to other tables. But I don’t care. Noah seems lighter than I’ve ever seen him.
Laughing and joking as we eat our breakfast and talking about the upcoming game. It shouldn’t be too tough, to be honest. The opposing town isn’t known for football, and their offense is a total mess.
I want him to have a week off from his worry, and it looks like this one will be it. I wish I could take away all his fears.
I look around this diner full of people, who say hello and goodbye to him, who ask about the game and whether we’ll go to state this year. I want to tell him, even if he were with a man someday, in a relationship, they’d be okay with that.
But I know, more likely, most of them wouldn’t be.
That it would be a nightmare for him to have a boyfriend out in public in Kensley.
And it absolutely kills me.
Maybe Noah will fall for a woman next. Though, the thought of him falling for anyone twists my heart in a heavy vice and leaves me filling sick. But even if he does, he shouldn’t have to hide any part of himself.
It’s the definition of unfair.
FIFTEEN
NOAH
It’s a nice day, and I’m spending my Sunday in the garden, pulling weeds and picking the rest of the tomatoes and cucumbers. I’m not the least surprised when I see Chance pull up, parking in my drive.
We should probably spend a day apart, but at this point, I really can’t bring myself to care. Having breakfast with him yesterday at the diner was . . . I’m not really sure what it was.
From the outside looking in, I’m sure it just looked like two coaches having breakfast the day after a win. But it felt like more. We laughed and talked for what felt like hours. It was more fun than I’ve had in a long time, and I can’t erase the goofy-ass grin from my face as he walks the path to the garden. He must have spotted me when he was walking to the front door.
“You have a garden,” he says matter-of-factly as if he’s surprised.
“Of course I have a garden. There’s nothing better than fresh vegetables.”
He leans on the fence surrounding the garden I built to keep hungry furry visitors from devouring my hard work. “Oh, you poor man. So many things are better. Trust me.”
The way his voice dips low is suggestive as hell, and I have to look away to gain my composure. I try to pick a few ripe tomatoes, but my hands are shaking, thinking about all the things he could show me.
I can’t do that though. I need to push those thoughts away. So far, I’m doing a terrible job of it, closing my eyes. I’ve thought about him every morning in the shower as my hand brought me much-needed relief.
But it’s not cutting it anymore.
I finally look back over at him, and my heart does that fluttery thing again at the sight of his bright, white smile. His facial hair has grown out a little bit but doesn’t hide his sharp features, and his eyes are sparkling like they always do.
“Come on.” I motion toward the house. “Since you’re here, I’ll feed you lunch.”
His grin could break me if I look at it too long—all bright and wide. “Aw, you really do like me, don’t ya, Coach?”