A Gleam In His Eye. Terry Essig

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СКАЧАТЬ today?” one little darling dared to tease.

      “Beat Billy, Coach Jo. He cutted in front of me again.”

      “Nuh-uh” came the immediate denial.

      “Uh-uh.”

      “I gotta go to the bathroom,” contributed one child, legs crossed and hand pressed firmly between her legs. Johanna waved her toward the locker room.

      “Beat the new kids. Maybe it’ll make them swim faster.”

      Hunter half rose again.

      “Marcus,” said Coach Jo, “you know the rules. No put-downs. Karen and Robby just started swim team. They’ll get faster all by themselves as they practice, just like you did. I think maybe I’ll beat you instead.”

      Yeah, thought Hunter. Beat the little jerkface, picking on his niece and nephew like that.

      But the little jerkface danced out of Coach Jo’s reach. “Gotta catch me first,” he said, and dived into the pool. “Besides, you just pretended to beat Billy. He told me so,” Marcus added when his head cleared the surface.

      “Oh, yeah?” Coach Jo asked. “Watch this.” She grabbed the child next to her, who happened to be her little sister, flipped her upside down and lightly tapped her seat while making loud smacking sounds.

      The kids all laughed, including the victim. “I’m telling Mom,” the small fry said.

      Johanna fell willingly into the trap. “Oh, no, don’t do that, Aubrey. Don’t tell Mom on me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. How about an extra piece of my birthday cake come Friday?”

      Five other youngsters pressed close.

      “I’ll let you beat me, Coach Jo, if you bring me a piece of your birthday cake.”

      “What kind is it going to be?” another one wanted to know before committing himself.

      “Chocolate.”

      “How old you gonna be, Coach Jo?”

      “Old,” Jo’s little sister replied. “Really old.” She danced back out of Johanna’s reach. “Twenty-five. My mom says that’s three times as old as us guys.”

      “Man,” a little blonde said reverently. “That is old.”

      Hunter eavesdropped shamelessly, calmer as he saw the coach in action. Twenty-five, hmm? Only a few years younger than he. Hunter wasn’t yet sure if he totally approved of the blond dynamo, but he was a desperate man and becoming more so with every passing day. He couldn’t help but notice Coach Jo’s bare left hand.

      This was a new sensation for Hunter. He enjoyed women, certainly. What wasn’t there to enjoy about them? The opposite sex was delightful with their softer curves and interesting, um, shaping. And their minds! Well their minds were a fascinating foreign landscape a man could travel forever and never quite be able to map out. Oh, yes, Hunter loved them dearly, each and every puzzling one, but he’d never been much interested in attaching himself permanently to one. In fact, up to now, he’d avoided marriage at all costs. Whenever he dated a woman, he kept a careful watch for signs of nesting. If she started detouring him through the baby section during a harmless stroll through the local department store and investigating the local school system in his neighborhood, he knew he had to end the relationship—or risk losing his bachelor freedom. Hunter just hadn’t been ready for marriage or family. Until now.

      Hunter sighed. Unfortunately, through absolutely no fault of his own, things had changed and he found himself with a bad case of ready or not, here they come. Hunter needed a woman in his life. He needed a mother for his brood. His niece and nephews were now his, permanent, full-time for the next fifteen to twenty years. His big brother was up there somewhere laughing at him, he just knew it. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered to the heavens. “But I’ll be joining you someday myself, probably a lot sooner than I ever thought if your kids have their way, and I will get my payback. See if I don’t.”

      When his brother and sister-in-law had died in that accident, leaving Hunter their four children to raise, he’d been so naively sure he could handle things by himself. How hard could it be to throw food in front of the little miscreants a few times a day and send them up to bed at eight-thirty every night?

      Hard. His recently acquired crew of four had spent the last month and a half proving just how hard it could be. Because of their recent loss, the kids had trouble letting Hunter out of their sight, trouble sleeping in the dark, trouble…just lots of trouble. Hunter needed help and he was becoming desperate enough to admit it.

      Now, when he was finally ready to be caught, the women of his acquaintance all seemed to have done an abrupt about-face. It wasn’t really a change of heart, the last one had earnestly assured him. Certainly she wanted children—her own. Elaine simply hadn’t been ready to take on four of somebody else’s before she’d even taken her own genetic code down from the shelf and dusted it off.

      Hunter nodded thoughtfully as he observed. Now, this young lady seemed to actually enjoy young children. Why or how he couldn’t begin to imagine. It’s not as if kids could discuss the Cubs latest trade or the stock trends with you. But then, as he’d noticed more than once before, the female mental landscape was one confusing place. Hunter shook his head and tuned back into the other apparently delicate matter of Coach Jo’s age.

      “Thanks a lot, Aubrey.” Johanna glared at her sister. “All right, big mouth, now you’re in for it.”

      “Chocolate frosting, too?”

      “With sprinkles,” Johanna confirmed, her attention momentarily diverted from her unable-to-keep-anything-secret younger sibling.

      “I guess you could beat me,” one more said after brief consideration. “So long as the sprinkles are chocolate, too.”

      “Too late to take it back,” Aubrey said with a smirk. “She already promised me the extra cake and I decided not to tell.”

      “I just may tell Mom myself what a little con artist you’ve become, young lady.” Then Johanna hugged her. “Oh, well, a deal’s a deal. All right, everybody in the water. Do a good job and I just might bring cupcakes for everybody. Ten fifties freestyle stroke drill on the one-twenty. Watch the pace clock.” Johanna turned to study the large poolside clock. “All right,” she said as the second hand approached the top of the clock. “Ready and…go.”

      Hunter Pace watched his seven-year-old niece and eight-year-old nephew look around in confusion. He didn’t blame them. Any attempts at poolside order and organization were well hidden. It was his children’s first session ever with a swim team, and the energetic and incredibly vivacious coach seemed to be speaking Greek. He rose, prepared to go question Coach Jo on the directions and decipher them for Karen and Robby. Truth be told, he wouldn’t mind getting close to the kids’ new coach again. Her coaching style seemed a bit unorthodox to him, but anybody who exuded the natural sex appeal Coach Johanna exuded got the benefit of his doubt. He’d make it a point to keep an eye on her, that was all. The closer eye the better. Coach Johanna was not only a looker, she smelled like a ripe peach. Hunter had discovered that interesting tidbit when he’d introduced Karen, Robby and himself at the beginning of the session. He’d always had a thing for peaches. And fruits were, after all, an important part of any man’s diet.

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