He stuck the carton of eggs, along with the bowl he’d scrambled, back into the refrigerator, grabbed his keys, and went outside to his truck. He drove toward downtown, pulling into a spot in front of the donut shop just as Asher was walking out the door.
Cole saw the kid recognize his truck, then turn and walk the other way.
Great.
He got out and started down the sidewalk, a few yards behind Asher. “Hey, twenty-two!”
Asher stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Coach.”
They stood for a few seconds, as if having a duel, each one waiting to see who would make the first move. “Heard you got a job here.” Cole motioned toward the donut shop with his head.
“So?”
“So, I’ve got an offer for you,” Cole said.
Asher’s expression went from indifferent to mildly interesting, but he said nothing.
“I’m renovating my house,” he said. “I could use some help.”
“So?”
“You want the job?” The idea had come to Cole yesterday when he spent a fair amount of time teaching Charlotte how to do the simplest of tasks. He would’ve thought that would make him crazy, but he was a teacher after all. It shouldn’t surprise him that teaching was rewarding. If he was honest, it was kind of nice to work on something with another person for a change.
Maybe he could teach Asher a few life skills—how to fix a toilet, how to tile a shower, how to lay hardwood—and the hours would accommodate football practices.
“I’m not a charity case, Coach.” Asher turned and started off in the opposite direction.
“I never said you were,” Cole called out, following him. “You’d be helping me out.”
Asher stopped. “I don’t know anything about renovating a house.”
“Well,” Cole said, “I’d be helping you out too.”
The kid frowned.
“Look, I don’t think for one second you want to quit football. I’ve seen you throw. I’ve seen you practice. I know you love the game more than anything else.”
“Not more than my brothers.”
“What if you could do both?” Cole asked. “Stay on the team and still make money to help your brothers.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need a handout.”
Cole scoffed. “You don’t know me at all if you think this is a handout. I’ll work your tail off.”
“No thanks,” Asher said. “I know what I need to do, and I hate to say it, Coach, but you wouldn’t get it.”
More proof Asher didn’t know him at all.
“Look, I’m not gonna beg,” Cole said. “I want you on the team, and I think football is going to give you some great opportunities in the future. I need some help with my house, and learning that kind of work can only help you down the road. That’s it. No ulterior motive, no offer of charity.” Cole stopped before adding, “And if you’re too dumb to realize that, there’s not much more I can do”—but it took everything he had to keep his mouth closed.
His father hadn’t taught him much in the way of life skills. Everything Cole had learned, he’d learned from Steve. His stint at Haven House hadn’t lasted long, but that hadn’t mattered to the man. He got in Cole’s business when he lived there, and he stayed in it long after he’d gone.
Steve had taught him one important negotiation tactic—“You have to be willing to walk away.” If the other party is bluffing, you’ll find out fast.
Asher, it turned out, wasn’t bluffing. He stormed off down the street without looking back.
Cole got back in his truck and started the engine, watching the kid disappear around a corner. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and found a text from Charlotte.
I was happy to help.
Cole pulled out onto the street, aware that one little text shouldn’t change his entire mood, but also aware that it absolutely had.
14
As promised, Brinley set up a meeting for the volunteers, and also as promised, Charlotte agreed to come.
She hadn’t heard a word from Connor about his plans for the dance studio, but the more time she spent in Harbor Pointe, the more she wanted to put down roots. She’d even spotted an adorable little cottage for sale on her run yesterday and had spent the last three miles crunching numbers in her head of what she thought she could afford.
She’d saved enough for a nice down payment and then some. One benefit of not having a social life—she didn’t spend much money.
Not that she was in a hurry to move out of Lucy’s place. Quite the opposite, if she was honest. She liked having a roommate. She liked having friends.
“This recital is a great idea, Char,” Lucy said from behind the steering wheel of her VW bug. “That’s not a good nickname. I’ll keep working on it.”
Charlotte smiled. She’d never had a nickname before.
They were headed toward the meeting at the dance studio, and Charlotte was thankful for the company. Ever since Cole had sent her that text yesterday, she’d struggled to keep her mind from wandering back into fantasy territory. It was embarrassing how much she thought about him, how she watched for him around town when she was running errands or working out.
That, she would keep to herself, no matter how much she liked her new friend.
“I’m really hoping Connor will sell me the studio,” Charlotte said.
“He’d be crazy not to.” Lucy pulled into a parking space—without hitting another car, Charlotte noticed—and shut off the engine.
Inside, Charlotte surveyed the group. She recognized Brinley, who was sitting near the front and chatting with two other women, and Lucy’s friend Quinn, but nobody else.
At Quinn’s side was a very handsome man, and judging by the way he stuck close to her, Charlotte deduced that he must be Quinn’s Olympian. Charlotte stared at the way the man watched Quinn while she spoke to a shorter, older woman. He looked completely smitten.
Nobody had ever looked at Charlotte like that. Did Quinn know how lucky she was?
“Cee?” Lucy nudged her with her elbow.
“Huh?”
“You’re gawking.”
Charlotte looked at Lucy. “Sorry.”
“I get it, he’s a beautiful man.” Lucy waggled her eyebrows.
“No, that’s not—”
But before she could explain, Brinley rushed over. “Oh, good, you’re here. Are we ready to start?”
Charlotte frowned. “I don’t know, are we?”
“It’s your meeting,” Brinley said.
Charlotte looked around the room of strangers. “My meeting?”
“Yes, you’re in charge now, right?”
Oh. Right. Charlotte hadn’t thought this through. What did she think, she could take charge of a recital and not actually be in charge?
“Come on.” Brinley tugged on her arm, leading her to the front of the room. “I’ll get everyone’s attention, then turn it over to you. Sound good?”
How hard could it be? “Sure.”
Brinley clapped her hands together. “Hi, everyone.” The small group began to quiet down. “Good evening. We’re really thankful you’re here tonight. I know we were all devastated about Julianna’s passing, but also disappointed about the recital. And Jules would’ve wanted it to go on. We are thrilled to have help from one of the country’s top dancers.”