Ergan: Winter Valley Wolves #5 by V. Vaughn, Mating Season Collection
Authors: V. Vaughn, Mating Season Collection
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Chapter 1
S weat trickles down my back as I catch my breath. While I’ve stayed in decent shape for the five years since I graduated high school, I’m not seventeen any longer. And I’m definitely not in soccer shape like most of my team. The three-mile warm-up I’ve chosen to run with them each day might kill me. I call out, “Ladies!” I point as I speak. “Two lines, across from each other!”
I’m the new Winter Valley High girls’ varsity soccer coach. When I stuck around after my fifth-year reunion to lick my wounds, I hoped to get a teaching job near home. I never expected to land it at my old high school. And it must have been fate when the soccer coach decided to quit only two days ago, because the boys’ varsity coach is the taboo object of my sexual fantasies, Ergan Wakefield.
I glance over at the field next to us, and like a heat-seeking missile, I find my target. Ergan was part of the truck club in high school. The bad boys in flannel with big trucks weren’t the kind of guys popular girls like me went out with. So I pretended to ignore the fact we caught each other staring on a regular basis. I finally got up my nerve on graduation night to approach him, and the one stolen kiss we shared was so steamy no man has ever matched it.
I hoist the mesh bag of soccer balls and walk toward the girls on the right, and the leather globes thump to the ground when I release them. “Grab a ball, ladies, and guard it with your life. First one to get a goal gets a free pass on planks.” The net is beyond the opposite line of girls, and my whistle sounds as I blow it to start.
I glance back over at Ergan, but he’s busy doing his job. When he combs his hand through his dark hair, I imagine the silky strands in my fingers. I sigh as I watch him with his team. Ergan played football in high school, but the local community college where he went didn’t have a team, so he took up soccer. And I’m told he was really good.
When cheers erupt, I focus on my players and run them through a series of abdominal exercises. Our opening game is this Friday, and the girls are nervous. Yesterday was their first day with me as a coach, and we’re going to take time to adjust to each other. But I’m probably more anxious than they are, because the team we play is away, and we travel with the boys’ varsity players. I’ll have four hours on a bus sitting next to Ergan. That should be plenty of time to win him over with my charm.
I shake my head at myself, because a few months ago, we shared pie at a diner after our class reunion, and while we flirted, nothing came of it. Perhaps it was because he thought I was leaving again. Or more likely, he’s just not that into me anymore.
When practice is over, the girls walk slowly from the field toward the locker room. I worked my ladies hard, and I opt to carry the bag of balls back instead of grabbing one of them to do it. A male soccer player jogs over to me. “Miss Hayward. Let me carry those for you.”
I gaze at him in surprise. “Thank you. What a sweet thing to offer.”
He shrugs. “Coach Wakefield told me to.”
I glance over at Ergan and smile as he approaches me. He’s in loose shorts, and the muscles in his thighs are defined and ripple as he walks. I’ll bet he had no trouble keeping up with his boys during warm-up. He says, “You’re supposed to make the kids do all the heavy lifting.”
“I may have worked them too hard. Did you see the way they practically crawled off the field?”
He grins, and straight white teeth gleam. They seem to emphasize his plump red lips, and if he could read my mind, he’d know how badly I want to kiss them. He says, “That’s good coaching. They look strong. You could win Friday.”
My whistle is cool in my hand when I remove it from my neck as we begin to walk. “I hope so. Coming in so soon before the season starts is tough.”
“Well, they couldn’t have found a better replacement than the former Winter Valley
S weat trickles down my back as I catch my breath. While I’ve stayed in decent shape for the five years since I graduated high school, I’m not seventeen any longer. And I’m definitely not in soccer shape like most of my team. The three-mile warm-up I’ve chosen to run with them each day might kill me. I call out, “Ladies!” I point as I speak. “Two lines, across from each other!”
I’m the new Winter Valley High girls’ varsity soccer coach. When I stuck around after my fifth-year reunion to lick my wounds, I hoped to get a teaching job near home. I never expected to land it at my old high school. And it must have been fate when the soccer coach decided to quit only two days ago, because the boys’ varsity coach is the taboo object of my sexual fantasies, Ergan Wakefield.
I glance over at the field next to us, and like a heat-seeking missile, I find my target. Ergan was part of the truck club in high school. The bad boys in flannel with big trucks weren’t the kind of guys popular girls like me went out with. So I pretended to ignore the fact we caught each other staring on a regular basis. I finally got up my nerve on graduation night to approach him, and the one stolen kiss we shared was so steamy no man has ever matched it.
I hoist the mesh bag of soccer balls and walk toward the girls on the right, and the leather globes thump to the ground when I release them. “Grab a ball, ladies, and guard it with your life. First one to get a goal gets a free pass on planks.” The net is beyond the opposite line of girls, and my whistle sounds as I blow it to start.
I glance back over at Ergan, but he’s busy doing his job. When he combs his hand through his dark hair, I imagine the silky strands in my fingers. I sigh as I watch him with his team. Ergan played football in high school, but the local community college where he went didn’t have a team, so he took up soccer. And I’m told he was really good.
When cheers erupt, I focus on my players and run them through a series of abdominal exercises. Our opening game is this Friday, and the girls are nervous. Yesterday was their first day with me as a coach, and we’re going to take time to adjust to each other. But I’m probably more anxious than they are, because the team we play is away, and we travel with the boys’ varsity players. I’ll have four hours on a bus sitting next to Ergan. That should be plenty of time to win him over with my charm.
I shake my head at myself, because a few months ago, we shared pie at a diner after our class reunion, and while we flirted, nothing came of it. Perhaps it was because he thought I was leaving again. Or more likely, he’s just not that into me anymore.
When practice is over, the girls walk slowly from the field toward the locker room. I worked my ladies hard, and I opt to carry the bag of balls back instead of grabbing one of them to do it. A male soccer player jogs over to me. “Miss Hayward. Let me carry those for you.”
I gaze at him in surprise. “Thank you. What a sweet thing to offer.”
He shrugs. “Coach Wakefield told me to.”
I glance over at Ergan and smile as he approaches me. He’s in loose shorts, and the muscles in his thighs are defined and ripple as he walks. I’ll bet he had no trouble keeping up with his boys during warm-up. He says, “You’re supposed to make the kids do all the heavy lifting.”
“I may have worked them too hard. Did you see the way they practically crawled off the field?”
He grins, and straight white teeth gleam. They seem to emphasize his plump red lips, and if he could read my mind, he’d know how badly I want to kiss them. He says, “That’s good coaching. They look strong. You could win Friday.”
My whistle is cool in my hand when I remove it from my neck as we begin to walk. “I hope so. Coming in so soon before the season starts is tough.”
“Well, they couldn’t have found a better replacement than the former Winter Valley
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