Pamela Yaye - Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two

“We should order a bottle of wine,” Mr. Morrow announced, stopping a passing waiter. “Terrence, I know you haven’t accepted the coaching position yet, but I feel like celebrating! This could be the start of another Hollington dynasty!”

Terrence winked at Kyra.

A Southern girl from a family of big, strapping men, Kyra had always been taken by strong, silent types with impeccable manners. He greeted the manager as if they were old friends, chatted up the hostess as she led them out to the patio and entertained Walter with stories about his most harrowing days in the NFL.

A cell phone beeped, and Kyra reached into her purse.

“Sorry, it’s mine.” Putting down his fork, Terrence cleaned his mouth with his napkin and pushed away from the table. “Normally, I wouldn’t answer, but I’ve been waiting to hear back from my agent all day. Do either of you mind if I take this call?”

Mr. Morrow flicked a hand as if to dismiss his apology. “Go on, Terrence. I’ll see you at practice on Monday.” He gestured towards Kyra. “You’re in good hands. Kyra will take great care of you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Confident to the point of appearing cocky, he winked at her and rose to his feet. They were sequestered behind soaring hedges of fiscus trees that shielded them from prying eyes, but as Terrence strode off through the patio, Kyra noticed that everyone, from the businesswomen downing wine to the teenager with the fashion sense of T-Pain, turned and stared admiringly at the former NFL running back.

Mr. Morrow ingested a mouthful of chicken. “Think we could convince Terrence to invite some of his celebrity friends to the Winter Wonderland Ball?”

Kyra thought about it for a moment, then said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we get Terrence here at Hollington,” he began, stroking his jaw reflectively. “We have a brand new stadium and have practically given tickets away, but the stands are still empty.”

“That’ll change once Terrence becomes head coach. Soon, every seat in the stadium will be filled. Mark my words, Walter. You’ll see.”

“I love your enthusiasm.” His head remained bent, but he was watching her intently. “You’re in the last year of your contract, right?”

Kyra nodded. She tried to look interested in what her boss was saying, but how could she focus when Terrence was staring right at her? His smile lacked its usual warmth. At ten feet away, he was too far to be heard, but the troubled expression on his face told her the conversation was not going well.

“You’ve given your heart and soul to this school and you’re one of the best PR directors Hollington’s ever had.” He was smiling, but the expression on his face was solemn. “I’m going to level with you, Kyra. What happens this season is going to have an enormous effect on your future. If Terrence signs on as head coach, I’ll see to it that you get a raise and a long-term contract.”

As if I don’t have enough pressure, she thought, annoyed.

“I have to run. I’m chairing this afternoon’s board meeting and I don’t want to be late.” Ending the conversation, he stood and slipped his beige suit jacket over his shoulders. “Take good care of our star coach. See to it that Terrence has everything he needs. Spoil him. Roll out the red carpet. Be extra nice.”

She slaked her thirst by sipping her ice water. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Walter took another swig from his wineglass, and then was gone. But before Kyra could enjoy a quiet moment with her thoughts, Terrence was back.

“That was fast,” she said.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yup.”

“Liar.” Leaning forward in her chair, arms folded casually on the table, she studied him for a full minute. “The clenched jaw says it all, but if that’s not enough, you’re gripping your glass so tight your veins are popping.”

Slowly, his frown fell away and was replaced with a grin. “You still know me better than anyone else.”

Kyra swallowed. Her tongue felt like dead weight, and it didn’t matter how much she moved it, it wouldn’t oblige. Needing a diversion, she forked broccoli into her mouth and chewed. “So, what’s up? Why do you have a long face?”

“I’m in talks with a network to host my own show, but negotiations have stalled. They’re trying to lowball me, and my agent thinks we should bail.”

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice laced with awe, “you’ve got your hands in everything. Movies, television, endorsements.”

His hearty laugh drew the attention of the brunette at the next table. Winking, she formed her pouty lips into a coy smile. Terrence looked away. “I try to stay busy. I’d lose my mind if I had nothing to do.”

“I’d kill to have some more free time.”

“That’s what you think, but after a few weeks, you’d be itching to go back to work,” he argued. His eyes were sharp and wide and showed how much he was enjoying their banter. “There’s no substitute for getting out and being with people.”

“Maybe for a social butterfly like you, but I have plenty to do at home. I have so many projects on the go, I had to make a list!”

Squinting, he leaned forward. She saw the amused sparkle in his eyes and wondered if she’d revealed too much. His smile had always been her downfall, and that hadn’t changed in the time they’d been apart. Every time he flashed those pearly whites, she went soft. “Tell me what’s on your list.”

“It’s nothing. Just a few things I enjoy doing.”

“Come on,” he prodded. “Don’t be shy. I’d love to know what you do for kicks.”

Was it the sweltering heat that made it impossible for her to think, or his intrusive gaze? Convinced she was reading too much into his questions, she told him about the extensive renovations that had been done to her house last month. “I still have to clean out the garage, unpack boxes and find a company to landscape before winter. Then, there’s my scrapbooking projects, and all the orders I have for my holiday candles.”

“You still make aromatherapy candles?”

Nodding, she bit back a smile. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“How could I forget? I had the best-smelling dorm room in Rupert Hall. You always accused me of flirting with the other co-eds, but it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with your products!”

“It didn’t help that you liked strutting around without your shirt on.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

Kyra gulped down some water.

“Scrapbooking, huh? I should get you to help me organize all the pictures, and mementos I’ve collected during my career.”

Not wanting to offend the superstar athlete, she said, “Not a problem, I’d love to help out. Just say when—”

“How does tonight sound?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Unsettled by his steely gaze, Kyra lowered her eyes and pushed out a breath. She needed to steady her nerves before she embarrassed herself. “Back to your deal with Fox. How are you going to find time to host a Sunday morning sports show, with all the other things you’ve got on the go?”

“I’ll find the time. Sleep’s overrated. As long as I get five hours, I’m good to go.”

“You should take it easy,” she advised. “After ten years and countless hits, fractures and broken bones, you need sufficient rest.”

“Kyra, no one retires at thirty-two. I might not be healthy enough to play football, but I have a few good years left in me.”

“You never were one to heed advice.”

“That’s true.” They were two, meaningless words, but his voice was thick with feeling. His expression sobered. “My mom told me to marry you, but I wouldn’t listen. That was the worst decision I ever made and I’ve regretted...”