Reese turned around, stepping into me again. “Direction Girl needed to get directions.”

“What?” His eyebrows shot up.

“No. I mean,” I coughed and started forward, “there’s a fork. I needed to remember which way to go. It’s confusing sometimes.”

Reese was close behind me. “She’s right.”

He was fucking with me.

The coach pushed the door open, stepping back and giving us space so both of us could pass him by. As I stepped outside, I moved to the side, giving Reese a good side-eye. “We go left.”

His mouth twitched, but he ran a hand over it, hiding his expression. “You sure about that?”

My God. I had to think about it.

As he was looking down at me like that, like we were having our own secret, I almost faltered in my step. He was mesmerizing. “I…yes. I’m right.” I blanched.

Reese started laughing.

I wasn’t ready.

He’d been pissed the first night, confused after that, and guarded yesterday. This Reese was electrifying. I’d seen it earlier in their practice and had been half-swooning, but standing so close to him, having him giving me this attention—a jolt went through my entire body as the sound of his laugh washed over me. It took a moment to regroup.

“Yes. I’m right. It’s left.”

The coach sighed, moving ahead of us. “Just don’t get us lost. We are on a time table here.”

Then we were getting on, and a lot of eyes were focused on us.

I gulped.

One head coach. Four assistant coaches. Two trainers. A few other extra staff and nineteen players were waiting for us. Only half were watching, but it didn’t diminish the effect of being the center of their attention.

Reese started to take one of the open seats in the front, until their head coach grunted. “In the back, Forster.”

He paused, mid-swing into the chair. “What?”

His coach was looking over some papers, jerked his hand toward the back. “Passing along the message. Cartion said you had to go back there.” He looked up, his eyes all business. “I don’t know why.” Then the other coach was sitting behind me, and he focused on me. “You’re the staff?”

Staff. I dipped my head down. “That’s me.”

Reese’s grin was slow. “She needed to ask for directions.”

“Shut up,” I hissed under my breath, then was more mortified as three of the coaches looked over.

Winston Duty’s eyes were narrowing the more he watched us. Then he motioned for an empty seat right behind the driver. “I’m starting to see why Cartion requested your presence in the back.” He said to me, “That’s for you. You’ll be relaying directions to Pete.”

Pete was fifty-three, grandfather to three little ones under the age of five, and he was tickled pink at being the team’s driver. They employed him during the season, and not only was he deemed the team’s greeter, but he was also their storyteller. Unofficially, of course.

By the time we were pulling into Fairview’s tiny airport, where their plane seemed to take up half the tarmac, I learned about the time they traveled last year to Oregon and had a tire go out. I learned about the police officer names that came to assist them, and how Pete himself knew all of the first responders who attended their games in Seattle. Did I want to learn more about Washington itself?

I was turning that last request down, my head buzzing with all the information, names, dates, and little factoids like the fact that Pete’s granddaughter was not actually named after Reese, the actress, but after their very own Reese Forster. Pete had a good laugh about that. It was always a source of confusion when people met his little granddaughter.

He kept talking, swinging the bus over into the parking lot.

A hand touched me from behind. Aiden leaned over, saying under his breath, “You can tune him out. Once he starts, he won’t stop.”

I half-glared at him. “You tell me now?” I motioned outside. “We just got here.”

He chuckled, grabbing his bag as the bus stopped and Pete opened the door. Standing up, he patted me on the arm. “Pete does best when he’s talking to someone, and from what I hear, you needed distracting. Least, that’s what Forster said earlier.”

Forster said?

He said what?

But Aiden was off the bus.

I was going to get off next, but one of the coaches said, “Stay put.”

I stayed put.

I stayed put as all the coaches got off, the other trainer. Their other staff, and as each player trailed past me.

“Heard you almost got us lost.”

I swallowed over a lump. That was Lestroy talking to me. He was teasing as he held his bag over his shoulder and added, “Thanks for not doing that.”

Oh, God.

Garth Carzoni was next, winking. “I was rooting for the right, not the left. Glad you were correct.”

Seat, swallow me now.

Matthew Crusty was up. He said to Carzoni as he passed me by, also winking, “I heard she’s dyslexic and has to turn her hands around to get the L right.”

A little gurgling sound came from me.

Juan spoke up, the next one passing me by, “That’s why Reese went after her, making sure we didn’t end up at that casino. Remember that one time?”