Page 20 of The Maverick's Homecoming

He got a real kick out of Oscar, too. The kid knew football and he had no hesitation when it came to offering advice. Finn found it humbling, to get regularly schooled on the history of the game and the progress of his players by a brilliant sixteen-year-old. Finn listened to Oscar, anyway. After all, the kid was usually right.

* * *

Friday, after practice, Kenzie was on her way to her car when Finn called her name.

She paused a few feet from her Bronco and turned. “Coach Monahan, what can I do for you?”

He jogged up wearing a sly smile. “I think I deserve a reward.”

She was grinning, too. “A reward for what, exactly?”

He pretended to think about her question, scrunching his eyebrows together and pressing his lips into a flat line. “For patience. And restraint.”

“You? Patient?”

“Yeah. Think about it. It’s been days since our dinner at Satterfield’s.”

“Right.” She collapsed the handle of her medical bag and clicked open the Bronco’s liftgate. “Three whole days, if you include today—and what is this reward you think you deserve?”

“I like hanging out with you. I think we should do it again.”

That made her smile—a giant, beaming sort of smile.

Friends, she reminded herself, frowning now. She and Finn were friends. Their tragic teenage love affair was long over and she needed to remember that.

“Kenz?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened? What’d I do? One minute we’re joking around, and then you blast me a smile like I’ve made you the happiest girl in Montana. And now, you’re looking miserable. Why do I have the feeling you’re going to jump in your Bronco and burn rubber all the way home just to get the hell away from me?”

He was right. About all of it. She decided to go ahead and tell the truth. “I still…like you. Maybe too much.”

One thick, sandy-brown eyebrow hiked up. “Why does liking me have to be a bad thing?”

“I just don’t want to…get involved with anyone, you know?”

“Too late.” He was grinning. “We’re already involved.”

She fell back a step. “No. We agreed that we could possibly be friends, but we’re not—”

“Yes, we are.”

She tried not to roll her eyes. “Excuse me. I didn’t even get to finish my sentence.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I…” She groaned. “Now, I have no idea what I meant to say.”

“That’s okay.”

“Hah. To you, maybe—and I remember now. I was going to say, once again, that we are most definitelynotinvolved.”

He stepped closer. She should probably fall back another step. But she didn’t. And then he said in a low, teasing tone, “Kenzie, we’realreadyfriends and that means we’re involved…in a friendship. Get over it. I swear I’m not asking you to marry me.”

She glared up at him, defiant. And he just looked at her, waiting. The seconds crawled by. She began to feel a little bit foolish. “Well. Just as long as we’re notmorethan friends…”

He pulled his hand from the pocket of his team jacket, plucked off his Stetson and clapped it to his broad chest. “We’ve known each other for years. We were in love once. We used to tell each other everything. Yeah, it all went to hell. But then we met up again last spring.”