Horace held out a folder. “All the details are in there. You be a good little coach and keep me happy, and I’ll stay away from the dyke.” His smile was
brutal. “Send the wife in here on your way out.”
Dylan ground her teeth all the way home. Horace Johnson was an insufferable pig, and it was days like today when she wondered why in the hell she was
still working for him.
Can’t back out now, Dylan. Too many people count on you.
As she pulled in the driveway, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw Cat’s truck idling. The blonde was sitting in the driver’s side with the window
down and the radio louder than it needed to be. Pulling in behind the truck, she could tell she hadn’t been noticed.
Silencing the engine, she slipped out of the car and rose to her full, commanding height, the grin on her lips that of a hunter stalking prey. Quiet as a
shadow, she moved to the truck and slid around so that she was standing before the open window. Bending so that her head came level with the in-theclouds driver, she took in a breath, and expelled it in a gentle stream in the direction of Cat’s ear.
“Holyshit!!” Cat shouted, jumping in her seat and banging her head against the cab’s ceiling.
Dylan’s laughter only increased in volume at the black look Cat gave her as she rubbed her suddenly tender noggin. “You trying to kill me or what?”
“Sorry,” Dylan said, not sounding very sorry at all. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“You wish,” Cat replied primly, reaching for the key and turning off the engine. Silence descended as she reached across the seat and grabbed a thick
playbook. “The play diagrams you asked for, Coach.”
“Ah, back to that again, are we?”
“Hmmph.”
Opening the door, Dylan sketched a grand bow. “Would the Madame care to repair to the house? A lovely plum wine awaits her fine attentions.”
Unable to even pretend to be angry anymore, Cat finally cracked a smile and slid from the cab, hooking her arm through Dylan’s and allowing herself to be
led into the cool confines of the large and beautiful house.
“Be good you two.”
Siegfried gave a very human sigh of disappointment and stalked back into the living room, head hanging. Brunhilde looked regally on, sitting still as a
statue until Dylan gave her customary scratch behind the ears. Only then did she deign to join her brother in the other room.
Tossing the folder and the playbook on the table inside the door, Dylan turned to Cat, drew her into her arms, and kissed her long and deep. When they
finally separated, she grinned down at Cat, who looked like she was trapped in her own dream world.
“I needed that,” the blonde finally managed as her eyes slowly opened.
“Me too. I had to spend part of my afternoon with Horace-the-bloodsucker-Johnson.”
“Eww.”
“Eww is right. God he makes my skin crawl. I want to take a hot shower.”
“That could be fun,” Cat offered with an evil grin.
“Yes, it could.” Dylan grabbed Cat’s wrist and headed the toward the bathroom. “Let’s go.”
*****
Dylan laid on the floor, propped up on several fluffy pillows. Cat was lying with her head in the tall woman’s stomach, drawing lazy designs on a corded,
naked thigh only inches away. She was completely relaxed, filled with the kind of blissful lassitude that only a hot shower and a bout of enthusiastic
lovemaking could inspire.
Dylan was leafing through pages of the playbook, obviously impressed.
“These are really good, Cat. You may have the makings of a decent coach.” Looking over the top of the playbook, she playfully narrowed her eyes at her
lover. “You’re not gunning for my job, are ya?”
“Hell no. You think I want to deal with the slug who walks like a man any more than I absolutely have to? No thanks. I’ll stick to playing. The coaching job is
allll yours.”
Dylan let her fingers slip through Cat’s silky hair as she put the papers aside. “Thanks.”
“So what did the smarmy little bigot want this time?”
“His spies caught me having dinner with you and your folks last night.”
Cat rolled up to a sitting position, eyes wide. “Shit.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I convinced him it was harmless.” She sighed. “But that convincing came with a pricetag attached.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of a price?”
“He wants me to do some print ad for Nike. Gratis for me, lots of nice shiny new equipment for him.” She sighed again, shaking her head. “Manny is gonna
shit bricks when he hears.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t your contract specify that you get a percentage of all those endorsement deals?”
“Yeah, but if you read between the lines, I need to scratch his ass for him when he asks.”
“Or?”
Dylan hesitated, but something in those flaring emerald eyes convinced her that the truth would be the only thing Cat would accept. “He comes down on
us.”
“You mean me, don’t you.”
“Cat, it’s okay….”
“No it isn’t, goddamnit!” Jumping to her feet, Cat began to pace. “Dylan, I will not have you whoring yourself just to protect me. It’s not right, damnit!”
