Page 9 of Yes, Coach (Bratton Hollow #1)

Murphy

I'd made sure she texted her mom, checking on her and then telling her she was staying at her friend Chloe's house to work on a project and would be home in the morning.

The lie had come easily, but watching her type it out had reminded me of exactly how young she is, how much she still has to navigate around the adult in her life.

I extract myself from her sleeping form, grab my phone from the nightstand and head to the kitchen, needing coffee and space to think.

The house feels different with her in it.

Warmer. In all the years I lived with my ex-wife, none of our homes felt like this.

Taryn's been here for hours, and I finally understand why it's not the place that makes a home, it's the person.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from my assistant coach about this afternoon's football practice, but all I can think about is whether Taryn will be in the stands like she sometimes is, watching me with those hazel eyes that see too much. Or running the track, distracting me from what I’m supposed to be doing.

And what happens if someone notices the way she looks at me now? The way I look at her.

By the time she wakes up, I've been running scenarios in my head. What happens to her scholarship if this gets out. Whether she'd be able to transfer schools. How her mother would handle the scandal on top of everything else she's dealing with.

Would I go to fucking jail? Then I couldn’t be there for her at all.

She appears in my kitchen doorway, hair a mess, my shirt hanging to her knees, looking young and beautiful and completely content.

"Morning, Daddy," she says with a smile that makes my chest tight.

"Morning, baby girl." The endearment slips from my lips like a breath. "Sleep okay?"

"Best sleep I've had in months." She moves to the coffee pot, standing on her toes to reach the mugs, and the t-shirt rides up to show off the first blush of purple from where my fingertips dug in as I held her apart for my mouth. "You?"

"We need to talk about how we handle this at school."

Something in my tone makes her freeze. She turns slowly, mug in hand, and I can see the exact moment she reads my expression.

"Handle what?"

I take the mug from her, walk to the refrigerator and pull it open, then say, "This.

Us. We need to be smart about it." I twist the top off the juice and pour it into her mug, recapping it then turning back around, walking the three steps her way and putting it in her hand.

"You have too much to lose if we're careless. "

"What do you mean?" She asks, looking at the mug with a quizzical scowl.

"I mean your scholarship. Your future. Everything you've worked for." I keep my voice level, matter-of-fact. "One wrong look, one person putting pieces together, and it's all gone."

Her face goes carefully blank. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need rules. Boundaries at school. No one can know about this until you graduate."

"And after I graduate?"

"After you graduate, you're not my student anymore. But until then, we keep this private."

She sets down her mug and crosses her arms. "You mean we sneak around. Hide what we are."

"I mean we protect what's yours to lose."

"What about what's yours to lose?"

I shrug. "I'm thirty-seven years old. I've had my shot at building a life. You haven't. I won't let this destroy your future."

“I wanted coffee,” she snaps, then spins like she’s going to walk away.

“Oh no you don’t. We’re talking, you don’t walk away from me when we are talking.”

I’ve got her upper arm in my hand before she can get two steps in.

“You’re bossy, is what you are. And I like coffee .”

“You might be right on both of those, but you need nutrition, not caffeine. You’re eighteen, but you are still growing, and coffee is not good for you. If something is not good for you, then you’re not getting it.”

She rolls her eyes as I retrieve the mug and put it to her lips. She crinkles her nose, eyes narrow, but she takes a sip as I tip it up.

“There, you happy?”

I shrug, setting the mug down and lowering my lips to hers, whispering, “If I’m with you, I’m happy.”

I kiss away the sweet orange juice off her lips, introducing her to my tongue again, feeling her body soften.

When I pull back, her eyes are more focused, that bratty defiance washing away.

"You know what? Fine. You're right about the scholarship thing." She picks up the juice on her own this time and takes a sip, wrapping her hands around the mug. "But I have conditions."

I raise an eyebrow. "Conditions?"

"Yes. If we're doing this whole secret relationship thing, then I get to set some ground rules too."

The fact that she's negotiating with me instead of just accepting what I've decided is both irritating and impressive as hell. "Such as?"

"Such as, you don't get to act like you don't know me at school. I'm not asking for PDA, but you can’t pretend I don't exist."

"I would never do that, baby, but that’s fine. Done."

"And I want your phone number programmed into my phone under a normal name, not 'Coach Reynolds.' Something I can actually say out loud if someone sees me texting."

"What did you have in mind?"

She grins, and there's mischief in her eyes. "Well, you could be my Uncle Murphy. I have a very close relationship with my uncle."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "Your uncle?"

"What? Too weird? Okay, how about my boss? I do work for you sometimes, helping with team stuff. Murphy from work texts me about... work things."

"Work things."

"Very important work things. Like whether I've been a good girl today."

The way she says it makes my cock twitch. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

"I sort of hope so. You look like you could use some trouble in your life." She moves closer, leaving the mug on the counter again, before pressing herself against my chest, her warm little hands over my heart. "But you knew that when you claimed me."

I wrap my arms around her, breathing in that warm scent that's already becoming addictive. "Smart mouth."

"You love my smart mouth."

"I do." I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "But make no mistake, baby girl. These rules, this arrangement, it's temporary. The second you graduate. I'm not hiding what you are to me anymore."

"And what am I to you?"

"Mine." The word comes out rougher than I intended. "You're mine, and eventually everyone's going to know it."

She shivers against me. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl. Now, since we're on the subject of rules, let me add a few of my own."

"Such as?"

"Such as, you text me every morning and every night. I want to know you're safe, that you're taking care of yourself. Whenever we’re apart, if you leave somewhere, you tell me. Then, you tell me when you’ve arrived at your next destination. No texting and driving though. Ever. I’ll turn that ass bright red if I find out. "

"Okay."

"And if anyone gives you trouble—anyone—you tell me immediately. I don't care if it's another student, a teacher, or the fucking principal. You're under my protection now."

"What are you going to do, beat up a seventeen-year-old?"

"If necessary." I'm only half-joking. "But hopefully my reputation will be enough to keep most idiots in line."

She laughs. "You know, for a guy who's worried about people finding out about us, you sure sound like you're planning to be pretty obvious about the whole protection thing."

"There's a difference between being protective and being obvious. I've been looking out for you for months anyway. Now I just have more reason to."

"More reason?"

"Because now you're mine to protect instead of just someone I care about."

The distinction seems to satisfy her, because she melts further into my arms. "So when do I see you again? I mean, really see you, not just at school."

"Tomorrow night. You're coming back here."

"Am I?"

"Yes. And you're staying the night again. I'll think of some excuse for your mother."

"What if I have plans?"

I give her a look that makes her squirm. "Do you have plans?"

"No."

"Then it's settled." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "Now go get dressed. You need to get home before your mother starts to worry."

"She thinks I'm at Chloe's, remember?"

"And Chloe knows what, exactly? That you have a man in your life?"

She bites her lip. "Not exactly."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I may have told Chloe I was staying home to take care of Mom, and I told Mom I was staying at Chloe's."

I stare at her. "You lied to both of them?"

"It's called strategic misdirection. And don't look at me like that—you said yourself we need to be careful."

"I’m just… You’re a criminal mastermind."

"I prefer 'creatively flexible with the truth.'"

Despite myself, I'm impressed. And a little concerned about what other creative flexibilities she might employ in the future.

"Just make sure you’re always honest with me, baby girl."

"Always, Daddy."

"Good girl. Now go get dressed before I decide to keep you here all day."

"Would you?"

"Don't tempt me."

She stands on her toes to kiss me, quick and sweet, then heads toward the bedroom. "You know, Daddy, I think this secret relationship thing might be more fun than I thought."

I watch her walk away, admiring the way my t-shirt clings to her curves, and can't help but agree.

We're definitely going to be trouble.