5. A Night OutIn?

A NIGHT OUT OR IN?

EVERETT

I 'd been distracted all week, waiting for the text from Penelope saying tonight was the night she'd practice her flirting. Each evening, I stared at my phone, a mix of anticipation and dread churning in my gut. And each night, I'd feel a ridiculous sense of relief when she'd message that it had been another long day of shooting and she was too exhausted to go out.

I told myself it was just concern for her well-being. After all, what kind of coach would I be if I pushed her too hard? Not that I'd pushed her at all. The thought of Penelope out there, flirting with other guys... it twisted something inside me.

But now we were all in Florida for the Mustangs' away game, and I was running out of excuses.

The girls—Kelsey, Penelope, Willa, and Trixie—had their own suite at the hotel. Team rules meant players couldn't have our partners in our rooms after curfew. It was a rule I'd never had trouble with before, but tonight it was driving me crazy.

I paced my room, reviewed my playbook, did some sit ups and pushups and even the dreaded burpees, and was now trying to focus on tomorrow's game, when I heard a soft giggle in the hallway. Peering out, I caught a glimpse of Kelsey slipping into Dec's room. A few minutes later, I saw Trixie sneaking towards Chris's door, and there was no way Hayes didn't already have Willa in his room.

Good. I hope the kid was getting laid like the rest of them. Kingmans played better when... fuck, I was going to play like shit.

Penelope must be alone in the girls' suite.

Oh, this was such a bad idea.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I was knocking on her door. When she opened it, looking adorably confused in her pink polka-dotted pajamas, my mouth went dry, my palms started sweating, and my determination to keep this completely platonic went down in a huge tackle by my libido. How the fuck was I going to resist stripping her out of those?

I grinned and waggled my eyes at her because I had the perfect solution. No one was getting naked. "Get dolled up, Pen. We're going out."

Her eyes widened. "What? Now? But it's late, and you have a game tomorrow... curfew and all that."

"Exactly," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "Which means no one will suspect it's me. This is the perfect opportunity for your first lesson, and we'll get to do it in the real world. We'll hit a bar, no sports bars, maybe some kind of club. Miami is littered with places to go out. I can watch from the sidelines and give you real-time tips."

She bit her lip, hesitating. "A club? The music is always so loud no one can hear each other talk."

"Come on," I coaxed, ignoring the voice in my head screaming that this was a terrible idea. "All the other ladies have already snuck out. You going to let them have all the fun?"

Penelope's eyebrows shot up. "How do you know that?"

I chuckled. "Let's just say our boys aren't as sneaky as they think they are. Now, are you in or out?"

She looked at me for a long moment, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Finally she sighed, and I almost pumped my fist in victory. Got her.

She waved me into the enormous suite Kelsey had booked for them. "Give me ten minutes to get ready."

This was good, I told myself. This was what we'd planned. It really was the perfect opportunity. I was just being a good coach, nothing more. I was doing the right thing. Totally. Absolutely. For sure.

In less than ten minutes, Penelope came back out of the bedroom and stood in the doorway fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. She was wearing a pair of heels that made my head spin, jeans that hugged her curves perfectly and a crop top that revealed a tantalizing sliver of midriff.

I stepped behind the suite's island bar to hide the instant hard on pressing against my jeans. Holy fuck. I was in so much trouble here.

"How do I look?" she asked, her voice uncertain. "I'm worried the jeans are too tight, and I'm not sure I can pull off a crop top. But I'm trying to practice Kelsey's body positive messaging and doing my best to feel confident, you know?"

I stood there, momentarily stunned. The jeans were tight, and just right, accentuating her ass in a way that made me forget my own god-damned name. And the crop top? It showed just enough skin to be enticing, playing peek-a-boo with my fucking one-track mind. But it wasn't just the outfit. It was the way her red curls framed her face, the nervous but determined look in her eyes, the slight flush on her cheeks.

She was so gorgeous, and I was so dead.

"You look..." I paused, searching for a word that wouldn't give away how affected I was. I ridiculously gave her a thumbs up. "You look great, Pen. Those guys at the bar won't know what hit them."

She beamed at me, and I felt my heart, my stomach, and my balls do a little flip. This coaching in real time thing was the absolute worst idea I'd ever had in my entire life.

"And bring whatever lip gloss you're wearing right now. That's going to be our secret weapon tonight."

We found a bar that wasn't too packed—perfect for Penelope's foray into the world of flirting. We walked in and I could feel the nervous energy radiating off her.

"Relax," I said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're a beautiful, sweet, and sexy woman. You've got this."

She blinked at me a few times like she was surprised I'd say that. Did she really not know how hot she was? "I really don't think I do."

I scanned the room, noticing plenty of eyes already on her. But a brand new group of guys walked in just a minute after us, and they were perfect. Looked like accountants, or IT guys, or some other kind of job that bred less competitive, beta kind of men. My girl needed to swim in the shallows and not with some sharks. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You see those guys over there?" I nodded in their direction. "Go sit at the bar and reapply your lip gloss."

Penelope's brow furrowed. "That's it? How is that supposed to help?"

She had no idea. I was going to be beating men off with a stick."First of all, trust me. Drawing attention to your pretty pink lips will bring them panting. They'll come to you, and then all you have to do is flirt a little. We'll call it a success when one of them buys you a drink."

Which would probably be in six seconds flat.

She still looked skeptical but nodded. "Alright, if you say so."

"But at any point if you feel uncomfortable, even a little bit, just give me a signal and I'll swoop in and pull you out of there. Okay?" If any douchepotato in this place made her even the slightest bit twitchy, they'd be singing soprano for a lifetime after my knees sent their balls back into pre-pubescence.

"Oh, secret hand signals I can do. Like this?" She tugged on her ear, tapped the side of her nose twice, and swiped her finger across her forehead.

It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen in my life.

"Whoa, don't go crazy with the hand signals there, Sparky." I barely kept my chuckle in. "Just a wave will do."

"Well that's boring." She shrugged and rolled her eyes at me. "But you're the coach."

Penelope made her way to the bar, perched on a stool, and pulled out her shiny pink lip gloss. She applied it, then gave it another swipe and smacked her lips.

Did I wish I was lip gloss right now? Yes, yes, I did. I also felt a twinge of guilt. She was clearly nervous. But this was what she wanted, right?

Sure enough, one of the guys from the group started making his way over to Penelope. I tensed, ready to intervene if necessary, but reminding myself that this was the whole point of the exercise.

As the guy approached, Penelope let out a giggle that sounded more like a nervous schoolgirl than a confident woman. Then, to my surprise and slight amusement, she let out a snort-laugh.

Before the poor guy could even get a word in, Penelope launched into what could only be described as a verbal tsunami.

"Oh my gosh, isn't it so humid here? I'm from out of town, you know. Denver, actually. It's so dry there. Not like here. Here it's like walking through soup. Not that I've ever walked through soup. Can you imagine? That would be messy. Speaking of messy, my hair is not loving this weather..."

I watched, a mix of horror and fascination on my face as Penelope continued her ramble. The guy's eyes were growing wider by the second, and I could see him frantically looking for an escape route.

Finally, he held up his hand, effectively cutting off Penelope's monologue. "I'm so sorry," he said, pulling out his phone. "I've got to take this call. It was, uh, nice meeting you."

As he practically sprinted away, Penelope's shoulders slumped. She turned to me, her face a picture of embarrassment and defeat.

I made my way over to her, torn between wanting to comfort her and feeling an unexpected surge of... relief? Pleasure? The realization made me feel like the world's biggest jerk. What kind of coach was happy when their student failed?

"Well," I said, sliding onto the stool next to her, "Let's figure out what just happened, okay? I think we might have some work to do."

Penelope groaned, burying her face in her hands. "That was a disaster. I'm hopeless, aren't I?"

I patted her back, ignoring the spark I felt at the contact. "Not hopeless. Just... enthusiastic. We'll work on channeling that enthusiasm."

I loved an enthusiastic woman. Especially in the bedroom.

Pen peeked up at me, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, and man alive, I had my work cut out for me. Not in teaching Penelope how to flirt. She just needed a few lines, some practice and a little confidence.

This coaching arrangement was going to be a lot more complicated than I'd anticipated.

After the disastrous flirting attempt, it was time to call it a night. I wasn't going to make her feel embarrassed any more than she was.

An idea struck me. "You know what? Let's not end the night on a low note. How about we order some pizza and watch some game film? That's how I get better at my job."

Penelope perked up a bit. "You taped that? Oh my giddy aunt. If the internet ever gets a hold of that, I'll?—"

I held my hands to show her a safe surrender." No, no, no. I meant we should watch some rom-coms. We can study how the couples flirt. You know, for research purposes."

Her smile widened. "Oh. Right. Okay, that actually sounds perfect."

We snuck back into the hotel and settled into the empty suite instead of my room. I purposefully headed right into the living room area and not one of the huge bedrooms with the soft, pillowy beds, even though each room had its own TV.

"You don't mind if I change back into my pajamas, do you? I don't think I'd fit more than one bite of pizza into these jeans."

Gulp. "Yeah, go for it."

I'd just use one of these nice decorative couch pillows to cover my lap the whole night. I distracted myself by pulling up the twenty-four hour room service menu on the TV and got us pizza and ice cream. The most innocent of late night foods.

I flipped through the channels until I found a classic rom-com marathon on one of the movie channels. Nothing too racy, because it was already going to be awkward as hell to watch any kind of love scene.

Pen came back in, dressed in her pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and dragging her comforter. Perfect. If she was cocooned inside that thing, I'd be able to keep my eyes on the screen instead of on her boobs.

"Ooh, I love this one. Classic rom-coms are my jam. Except for the ones about teenagers. They just remind me of how dumb we all were in high school." She jumped onto the couch, but much to my dismay, left the blanket hanging over the back.

Pen eyeballed me. "I bet you weren't dumb in high school, were you? Mr. Football Star and future underwear model. I bet you even got good grades and were the prom king too, weren't you?"

"Kingmans are always the prom King, baby." Shit, I shouldn't have called her baby. What the fuck was wrong with me? "Okay, maybe not always. Declan told the prom committee to fuck off, and they didn't know what do to when Flynn, Gryff, and Hayes were all seniors the same year. But Isak made a very handsome King Kingman."

Now I was the one experiencing a verbal tsunami.

Penelope laughed. "Of course he did."

The only thing that saved me was the knock on the door with our food. "I got it. You settle in and snuggle up. We've got work to do, young Padawan."

"Yes, Master."

Fuck a duck. I should have ordered a bag of ice to dump over my head. How in the hell did she so casually say shit like that and not think she was flirting?

I sat as far away on the couch as I could and set the food in the middle of us. I absolutely was not allowing myself even the most casual of touches with her.

During the movie, I paid more attention to Penelope than to the actors or what they were doing. The way she laughed at the cheesy jokes, how she leaned forward during the romantic scenes, the little sighs she'd let out at particularly swoon-worthy moments.

"See how she's maintaining eye contact?" she pointed out during one flirtatious scene. "And notice how she's mirroring his body language? That's all part of flirting, isn't it? They make it look so easy."

"Right, but they're also acting, so..."

Penelope nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Should I be mirroring a guy's moves? What if he grabs his crotch or something?"

"Yeah, uh, don't do that. But that's not what has these two falling for each other." It was just too adorable how she was legitimately using the movie to analyze how to flirt. I'd honestly just thought it would help her forget about being embarrassed tonight.

As the night wore on and the movies played, Penelope gradually relaxed beside me. By the third movie, her head was resting on my shoulder, her breathing deep and even. When had I scooted close to her?

I looked down at her, fast asleep, a strand of her red hair falling across her face. Every fiber of my being wanted to scoop her up, carry her to bed, and curl up beside her. But I knew I couldn't. That wasn't what she wanted from me. I was her coach, nothing more.

With a sigh, I carefully adjusted our positions so she'd be more comfortable. As I did, she snuggled closer, mumbling something in her sleep.

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment while knowing it couldn't last. Tomorrow, I'd have to go back to being just her coach. But for now, with Penelope sleeping peacefully on my shoulder and the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room, I allowed myself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like if this was real. If she was mine.

But she wasn't. Pen didn't want me that way, and I needed to get over it.

I would.

Tomorrow.