mornings before going into her office to catch up on paperwork neglected during the week. She simply couldn't abide facing a backlog on Monday morning. Two hours of undisturbed diligence equaled eight hours of work accomplished during a normal school day.
Dressed in her leggings and matching running gear, she longed to pump her legs and feel the blood rush through her veins. At seven o'clock she had the track to herself with no neighborhood joggers, no teenagers–-no disturbing football coaches.
Maddie lifted her feet for a slow warm-up lap, thinking about those heady moments at the dance. It hadn't lasted long, standing there under the spell of Blue Moon . But remembering it now rekindled the warmth, recaptured the trance.
Scared the bejeebes out her.
She liked having control and sensed the Coach resisted anyone's control. He was an arrogant jock and Thursday's slow dance was just some sort of high after their fast jitterbug. Yes, that's what it was–like runner's euphoria. Nothing personal existed between herself and the smug coach. Nothing personal at all. She continued running, congratulating herself on putting the whole thing into perspective.
Phil pulled his car into the football stadium parking lot. The pressure of the day gripped his chest. His first football game as a coach. He'd been awake since four, read the paper, and finally gotten dressed. Standing in his messy apartment, he'd known he should make an attempt at cleaning it up. Then he thought, screw it . He'd rather go to school, work out, and get ready for the game. He shouldn't be so nervous over a high school football game, for Chrissake, but he was jittery as hell.
Watching from his car, a running figure caught his eye at the far end of the track, undoubtedly a local early bird. Then he recognized the Camry to his right and he focused on the runner again. A smile filled his face and the tension in his chest eased. Something about Miss Harris, make that “Maddie,” made him grin. As she rounded the bend running toward him, he noticed her perfectly coordinated running clothes: purple and black togs, purple leggings and headband. Yeah, she could be an ad for Runner Magazine . He decided a few laps might also do him some good.
As she began her third lap, she unclipped the water bottle attached at her waist and threw her head back for a big gulp.
"It's a mighty fine day for a run, Miss Harris. Mind if I join you?"
He pulled up beside her, coming out of nowhere. She choked on the water, embarrassing herself by spewing liquid out of her mouth in a completely unladylike manner. Coughing, she tripped over her own shoes and would have gone sprawling if Phil hadn't caught her in a bear hug.
"Whoa," he said, "are you all right?"
She pushed away from him. “For heaven's sake! What are you sneaking up on me for?"
"Honey, when these size fifteens hit the pavement, I don't sneak up on anybody. I can't help it if you were in your own little dream world."
Maddie blushed. She'd been reliving that darn dance.
She took a deep breath. "Well, at any rate, I didn't hear you. I wasn't expecting anyone out here this early."
He looked her over admiringly. "Great outfit."
She observed his odd ensemble: blue base ball cap, maroon sweat shirt with the arms cut off over a green t-shirt and brown sweat pants.
Looking very serious, she said, "I have to ask–are you color blind?"
He dropped back his head and laughed. "No, I just don't give a rat's ass about clothes. I pull things out of the clean clothes hamper."
"Don't you have a dresser? A closet?"
"Yeah, but the clothes don't make it that far. Hey, I'm doing good getting them in and out of the washer and dryer."
"Well, yes, I suppose that's something."
His gaze traveled her body with an appraising grin, making her feel extremely self-conscious.
She cleared her throat. "I like to jog here when I can. It's easier to get a rhythm going where it's flat. It's very hilly where I live."
He was staring at her now and
Dressed in her leggings and matching running gear, she longed to pump her legs and feel the blood rush through her veins. At seven o'clock she had the track to herself with no neighborhood joggers, no teenagers–-no disturbing football coaches.
Maddie lifted her feet for a slow warm-up lap, thinking about those heady moments at the dance. It hadn't lasted long, standing there under the spell of Blue Moon . But remembering it now rekindled the warmth, recaptured the trance.
Scared the bejeebes out her.
She liked having control and sensed the Coach resisted anyone's control. He was an arrogant jock and Thursday's slow dance was just some sort of high after their fast jitterbug. Yes, that's what it was–like runner's euphoria. Nothing personal existed between herself and the smug coach. Nothing personal at all. She continued running, congratulating herself on putting the whole thing into perspective.
Phil pulled his car into the football stadium parking lot. The pressure of the day gripped his chest. His first football game as a coach. He'd been awake since four, read the paper, and finally gotten dressed. Standing in his messy apartment, he'd known he should make an attempt at cleaning it up. Then he thought, screw it . He'd rather go to school, work out, and get ready for the game. He shouldn't be so nervous over a high school football game, for Chrissake, but he was jittery as hell.
Watching from his car, a running figure caught his eye at the far end of the track, undoubtedly a local early bird. Then he recognized the Camry to his right and he focused on the runner again. A smile filled his face and the tension in his chest eased. Something about Miss Harris, make that “Maddie,” made him grin. As she rounded the bend running toward him, he noticed her perfectly coordinated running clothes: purple and black togs, purple leggings and headband. Yeah, she could be an ad for Runner Magazine . He decided a few laps might also do him some good.
As she began her third lap, she unclipped the water bottle attached at her waist and threw her head back for a big gulp.
"It's a mighty fine day for a run, Miss Harris. Mind if I join you?"
He pulled up beside her, coming out of nowhere. She choked on the water, embarrassing herself by spewing liquid out of her mouth in a completely unladylike manner. Coughing, she tripped over her own shoes and would have gone sprawling if Phil hadn't caught her in a bear hug.
"Whoa," he said, "are you all right?"
She pushed away from him. “For heaven's sake! What are you sneaking up on me for?"
"Honey, when these size fifteens hit the pavement, I don't sneak up on anybody. I can't help it if you were in your own little dream world."
Maddie blushed. She'd been reliving that darn dance.
She took a deep breath. "Well, at any rate, I didn't hear you. I wasn't expecting anyone out here this early."
He looked her over admiringly. "Great outfit."
She observed his odd ensemble: blue base ball cap, maroon sweat shirt with the arms cut off over a green t-shirt and brown sweat pants.
Looking very serious, she said, "I have to ask–are you color blind?"
He dropped back his head and laughed. "No, I just don't give a rat's ass about clothes. I pull things out of the clean clothes hamper."
"Don't you have a dresser? A closet?"
"Yeah, but the clothes don't make it that far. Hey, I'm doing good getting them in and out of the washer and dryer."
"Well, yes, I suppose that's something."
His gaze traveled her body with an appraising grin, making her feel extremely self-conscious.
She cleared her throat. "I like to jog here when I can. It's easier to get a rhythm going where it's flat. It's very hilly where I live."
He was staring at her now and
Similar Books
