Ridley Holland has just lost the love of her life. She has no desire to return to the world of motocross, but she knows Teuvo would want her to continue. So she plays the part: an upcoming professional athlete with inevitable determination to domina...
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Jacks
Caden and Joe drag me to a bar to celebrate their thirtieth birthdays.
Well... Joe drags me to a bar, where we meet with Caden, and then the rest of the team. There are pros and cons to this outing. It's good to see Ridley out socializing as opposed to locking herself in her house and shying away from the world. Another advantage is mingling with the team without the constraints of counsellor or coach weighing on my shoulders. However, having Caden here is messing with my psyche—and not just because I'm the new coach.
Clutching my drink, I watch as Ridley leans over the bar, signalling the bartender for two more shots of tequila. Coach Jacks wants to advise her to stop drinking, otherwise she'll have an aggressive hangover tomorrow. But Casual Jacks is busy admiring how the black body-con dress hugs her figure and how those matching heels add three inches to her height. Through the smoky haze and dim lighting, I glimpse her side profile. Her lips are painted a red darker than blood and the smudge of glitter at the corner of her eye sparkles like the sun reflecting off of the lake.
Caden stands next to her, soaking up every ounce of attention. There are four empty shot glasses between them, along with lime rinds and a salt shaker. For the past ten minutes, they've been chatting and tossing back shots. Thanks to the loud noise and obscene profiles of the drunken people surrounding us, I can't hear what they're saying. Nor can I read their lips.
I take a sip of my drink, cringing. It's cheap whisky, the kind that doesn't sit well on the rocks.
I'll admit I'm jealous of Caden. He shares a tragic connection with Ridley, which makes it easy for them to communicate. Whereas there's a boundary between Ridley and me. Along with a bit of bias, considering I want nothing more than to sit her down and hold a counselling session. As far as I know, she's endured the recovery of a tragedy alone, medicating with god-knows-what and god-knows-how.
"Keep staring and people will ask questions. Pretty sure having a relationship with the coach is frowned upon." Joe joins me, bumping his shoulder against mine.
I give him a nudge back. "Fuck off, Joe. I'm just worried about her and Caden. They're on their fifth round of shots besides the drinks they consumed. Also, you phrased that wrong. Ridley's not the coach. She's not the one staring."
Joe chuckles. "So you admit it, then. You're attracted to her."
My gaze focuses on the drink in my hand and its clinking ice cubes. There's a crease between my eyebrows. My voice is gruff as I do my best to deny his suspicions. "Not attracted. Just worried."
He shrugs off my concerns, and a smile plays across his lips, as if he doesn't believe me. "It's a celebration. People get drunk when they're celebrating someone's thirtieth birthday."
My gaze moves to Joe. He's not holding a drink. "So, what's your excuse?"
His posture slouches a little, and he rubs his jaw. "Looking out for my brother." Several seconds tick by before he sighs. "Fine. You're right, Jacks. They're drinking too much and I don't like what it alludes to. If this becomes a coping mechanism for both of them..." He shakes his head, sandy-brown hair coming loose from his man bun. "This is fucked up. All of it."
