“Seriously,” another chimes in. “She’s staying next door. You two could have a little summer fling, huh? You’re telling us nothing’s happened?”
“She’s a friend,” I say, steering toward the deeper stretch of water.
“Yeah, but like … afriendfriend?”
Laughter erupts. I glare over my shoulder.
“She grew up with my brother, Logan. They were friends. Now, I’m also her friend.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Then someone mutters, “Damn. Sorry, Coach.”
I exhale, long and slow, trying to shake off the heat rising behind my ribs. I should’ve just laughed it off. Played it cool. But the truth is, I didn’t like hearing them talk about her like she was just a body on display.
She’s not. She’s Tessa.
I cut the engine and let the boat drift in the middle of the lake. The silence stretches, broken only by the gentle lap of water against the hull and the distant call of a loon.
"Look," I say, turning to face them. "If you want to get cozy with a girl, you can’t make her feel like she's under a microscope every time she steps outside."
A few of them nod, suddenly serious. Jake, one of my linebackers, shifts forward on the bench.
"We didn't mean anything by it, Coach. Just ... youknow how it is."
"I know how it is when you're seventeen and think with your dick more than your brain," I finish bluntly. "But that doesn't make it right."
A couple of them chuckle nervously. Marcus, my starting quarterback, clears his throat.
"So ... is she off limits? I’m eighteen now."
I lean back against the captain's chair, considering my words carefully. "I'm saying she deserves respect. Same as any woman. You treat her like a person, not a conquest."
"But you like her," Jake presses, grinning. "Come on, Coach. We can tell."
The heat creeps up my neck again. These kids don't miss much.
"What I think about Miss Montgomery is my business," I say, restarting the engine. "And hers."
"That's not a no," Marcus points out, and the others start hooting.
"Drop it," I warn, but there's no real bite in my voice. They've got me figured out, and we all know it.
As we head back toward shore, I catch sight of Tessa again. She's moved her painting operation to the side of the cabin, still in those cut-offs that have been testing my self-control all week. This time she's got music playing from a small speaker, and I can see her hips swaying slightly as she works.
"Damn, Coach," one of the boys whispers. "Look at her move."
I throttle down harder than necessary, making the boat lurch slightly. "Eyes on the water, gentlemen."
But even as I say it, I'm watching her too. The way she stretches up to reach the higher spots, how her hair catches the late afternoon sun. When she turns to dip her brush in the paint can, she spots our boat and waves again, smiling.
The boys wave back enthusiastically, a couple of them callingout "Hey, Miss Montgomery!" across the water. She laughs and gives them a thumbs up before turning back to her work.
"She's cool," Jake observes as I guide the boat toward the dock. "Not stuck up or anything."
"Yeah," Marcus agrees. "Most hot chicks would've ignored us or acted all bitchy."
I dock the boat with more force than necessary. "Language, Marcus."
"Sorry, Coach.”
