Page 7 of Racing Heat

“We should get a round for the table,” she remarks.

“So, they aren’t suspicious?” I ask her.

Her grin grows wider. “Something like that.”

“I enjoyed our run this morning. I usually don’t have company.”

“I don’t either,” she admits, her eyes tracking down and studying her feet. “Are we going to make this a regular thing?”

I shrug. “I would like that very much.”

“Good. Me too.”

“This has to be our little secret. No one can know that we’re running together.”

I pull my brows together in confusion. “Why? We’re just running.”

“Because I don’t want them to think something is going on between us. You know how August will be. If he thinks we’re getting sweaty on our runs, he’ll assume that it’s happening somewhere else too.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that.”

“No, we wouldn’t.” Her eyes dance with amusement.

The bartender chooses that moment to come over and take our order. I rattle off the drinks from the table and tell her to add it to my tab.

“How did you remember what everyone ordered? I’m impressed.”

“Oh, I have an excellent memory.”

She grins at me. And I wish I could stay with her at the bar and make her smile like that all night long.

Chapter Three

~JASE~

Early practices just plain suck.

For the most part, all I have to do is stand there while the team goes through their normal routine of stretches. Soon, they’ll be running a “property,” which means they’ll run the edges of the Tampa Bay Blaze property—around the outside of the stadium and over toward the office buildings, circling both before heading back here to the practice fields. We’ll have about twenty more minutes of standing around once the team goes off to run. Cassie will be back in less than that.

It’s like it’s in her DNA to run faster than the rest of them. Her friends are no slouches, either. Except Hendrix. She’ll be one of the last ones to come in, and that’s okay. She’s a goalkeeper—she doesn’t need to be quick when she runs, just quick on her feet when the ball is coming for her.

Some people think goalies are insane for standing in the box while someone fires a ball at us. The ball flies at an average of 70 mph. Maybe we’re not sane for what we do, but it’s a calling that you really can’t shake.

When I was a kid, my parents tried to convince me to play another position—any position other than the keeper. But of course, I didn’t listen to them. Being on the field wasn’t asattractive to me as standing in that box with the best view of the field, guiding my defense to cut the passes and make sure that the ball didn’t get too close to me. I had a good defense. Sometimes those guys were great at making sure no one took a shot on me; I wouldn’t need to dive on a live ball to make the save. But sometimes I would come out of there so battered and bruised. Maybe we had won, or maybe we hadn’t. But at least I knew I had done whatever it took to keep that ball from going into the net.

Usually, I won more than I lost, which is how I got to play soccer on the professional stage. Playing for Manchester had been a dream of mine since I was a little boy. Now I just coach. A tear to the labral caused my hip to come out of its socket. That little piece of cartilage is supposed to keep everything in place, but mine isn’t as tight as it used to be. Which means my range of motion isn’t what it used to be. It hindered my ability to be quick on the ball and also causes my hip to roll out of the socket; enough movement can cause it to pop right out, but I can also put it back in place by continuing to move.

“Coach, can you get me out of this run?” Hendrix begs, as she always does when it’s time to run a property. “I don’t need to run fast in order to play my position.”

“A little run will do you some good, Hen.” I grin at her. “We’ll work on some dives when you get back.”

“My dives are flawless,” she reminds me.

“Yeah, but practice makes perfect,” I goad her. “If you feel like you don’t need to work on them, I can always ask if you could run two properties.”

“I’m good,” Hendrix quickly replies.

“You know,” Cassie chimes in, “youcould always run with us.” She’s smiling big and bright this morning. Her brown hair is tied up, and she’s wearing yellow shorts and a blue practice shirt.