Dealerships, Altman Grocers, and our own Board of Directors have generously come together to offer our Evan Award winner a $50,000 grant to disburse as scholarship money to his qualifying senior players.
Bennett couldnât believe what he was seeing. Fifty thousand dollars. He had six qualifying seniors. How amazing would it be to hand them each eight thousand dollars to take to college? It wouldnât cover a full education of course, but it would get them headed in the right direction. Give them hope. And damn if he didnât know a couple of those boys who needed some financial hope.
Bennett stared down at the counter, contemplating. Heâd never before had an incentive to win the Evan. He didnât need a trophy or even the title. Didnât give a shit about things like that. But damn, when it came to helping his guys out, that was something else.
He glanced back down at the donors. Altman Grocers . They were a regional chain, but he knew for a fact the owner lived in the next town over. Bennett had even taught one of his daughters three years ago. A million thoughts traveled through Bennettâs brain at once.
He opened a new Internet window and typed âMillard Country Club boardâ into the search bar. He clicked on the first link, scanned through some bullshit, and then he saw it. Sure enough, Dan Altman was a member of the club.
Bennett shut the laptop and sucked in a breath.
It was official; he had to win that Evan Award, dammit. What could he do to guarantee a win? He closed his eyes and pictured Callie strutting out of his classroom, so confident. He remembered how certain sheâd been that she could win the dance competition.
Didnât she know nothing was certain?
Jensen could be wrong about the entire thing. Bennett could make a fool of himself in front of a room full of rich bastards all for nothing. But damn, he would enjoy putting his hands on Callie Daniels in the process. Now all he had to do was let her know that the game was back on.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Callie slid a piece of caramelized onion, chicken, and goat cheese pizza onto her plate and took a long drink of her strawberry wheat beer. Heaven. Complete and utter bliss. It was Sunday evening and she, Lindsey Morales, and Anne Edmond had just toasted to another month of plans finalized for the My Perfect Little Life blog .
Anne was the official creator and owner, but Callie and Lindsey each posted about twice a week as permanent contributors and the truth was, Anne made them all feel ownership. That was just her style, one of the many things Callie adored about her friend.
Recently theyâd taken to meeting at the local pizza and brewpub, Pie Mia, and Callie loved this time with them where they could just reconnect, support one another, and be creative.
Also overindulge.
âI seriously think I could eat this every day of my life,â Callie said as she held the pizza up to her lips. âWho needs a man when this pizza and strawberry beer are available?â
âHear, hear.â Lindsey took her own bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head.
âNot sure if I could eat it quite every day, but certainly once a week,â Anne said with a wink. âBut definitely never in place of a man.â
Callie let her pizza droop from her fingers as she gave Anne a wry look. âAnne, since you have a big sexy man at your house as we speak, probably doing something disgustingly precious like making your daughter a grilled-cheese sandwich or reading her a book, you automatically forfeit your right to add to the man situation banter.â Callie punctuated her statement with a big bite and then continued, mouth full. âIâm happy for you and all; Iâm just sayinâ, weâre no longer interested in your opinion regarding men.â
Anne just laughed and took a bite of her own pizza, a tiny moan escaping her lips. âIt is so good, though, youâre right. Maybe twice
Bennett couldnât believe what he was seeing. Fifty thousand dollars. He had six qualifying seniors. How amazing would it be to hand them each eight thousand dollars to take to college? It wouldnât cover a full education of course, but it would get them headed in the right direction. Give them hope. And damn if he didnât know a couple of those boys who needed some financial hope.
Bennett stared down at the counter, contemplating. Heâd never before had an incentive to win the Evan. He didnât need a trophy or even the title. Didnât give a shit about things like that. But damn, when it came to helping his guys out, that was something else.
He glanced back down at the donors. Altman Grocers . They were a regional chain, but he knew for a fact the owner lived in the next town over. Bennett had even taught one of his daughters three years ago. A million thoughts traveled through Bennettâs brain at once.
He opened a new Internet window and typed âMillard Country Club boardâ into the search bar. He clicked on the first link, scanned through some bullshit, and then he saw it. Sure enough, Dan Altman was a member of the club.
Bennett shut the laptop and sucked in a breath.
It was official; he had to win that Evan Award, dammit. What could he do to guarantee a win? He closed his eyes and pictured Callie strutting out of his classroom, so confident. He remembered how certain sheâd been that she could win the dance competition.
Didnât she know nothing was certain?
Jensen could be wrong about the entire thing. Bennett could make a fool of himself in front of a room full of rich bastards all for nothing. But damn, he would enjoy putting his hands on Callie Daniels in the process. Now all he had to do was let her know that the game was back on.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Callie slid a piece of caramelized onion, chicken, and goat cheese pizza onto her plate and took a long drink of her strawberry wheat beer. Heaven. Complete and utter bliss. It was Sunday evening and she, Lindsey Morales, and Anne Edmond had just toasted to another month of plans finalized for the My Perfect Little Life blog .
Anne was the official creator and owner, but Callie and Lindsey each posted about twice a week as permanent contributors and the truth was, Anne made them all feel ownership. That was just her style, one of the many things Callie adored about her friend.
Recently theyâd taken to meeting at the local pizza and brewpub, Pie Mia, and Callie loved this time with them where they could just reconnect, support one another, and be creative.
Also overindulge.
âI seriously think I could eat this every day of my life,â Callie said as she held the pizza up to her lips. âWho needs a man when this pizza and strawberry beer are available?â
âHear, hear.â Lindsey took her own bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head.
âNot sure if I could eat it quite every day, but certainly once a week,â Anne said with a wink. âBut definitely never in place of a man.â
Callie let her pizza droop from her fingers as she gave Anne a wry look. âAnne, since you have a big sexy man at your house as we speak, probably doing something disgustingly precious like making your daughter a grilled-cheese sandwich or reading her a book, you automatically forfeit your right to add to the man situation banter.â Callie punctuated her statement with a big bite and then continued, mouth full. âIâm happy for you and all; Iâm just sayinâ, weâre no longer interested in your opinion regarding men.â
Anne just laughed and took a bite of her own pizza, a tiny moan escaping her lips. âIt is so good, though, youâre right. Maybe twice
Similar Books
