The Long Shot. Ellen Hartman

       Wes looked earnest. He had this thing he could do where he somehow transformed himself from a six-foot-four-inch man into a five-year-old kid whose balloon had just blown away.

       “I don’t like it when you do that,” he muttered. The protest was a token one and he knew it. He’d been back in Milton High School for less than twenty minutes and he was already as firmly trapped by Wes’s needs and the expectations of the Milton sports program as he’d been in high school.

       “What am I doing?”

       “Making that face that looks like I kicked your puppy.”

       “I’m not.”

       Wes had the innocent act down so perfectly it didn’t even appear like an act. Julia probably thought he really was that innocent.

       “Your brother’s performance aside,” Julia said, “the girls really need help.”

       Underneath his anger about being tricked, he was tempted because Wes wanted it, and Wes hadn’t wanted anything from him since the day he got suspended. He was tempted because this time around, Julia and he were both adults and he’d gotten a tantalizing peek at her thigh and he couldn’t make himself walk away without seeing more.

       As he hesitated, one of the girls tossed a shot in from the baseline, and when it went in, she pumped her fist and he felt the pleasure right along with her, the satisfaction of watching a sweet shot swish free through the net.

       Nothing but air.

       His Tigers.

      * * *

      HE WAS GETTING ready to walk and she couldn’t blame him. She should have come clean right from the start. He glanced at his brother and then back at the girls. Max put a beautiful shot in and Deacon’s eyes lit up. He still loved the game. Would that be enough to make him say yes?

       The girls were unable to control their curiosity anymore and now they were inching forward to group up behind her. She wished he’d commit so they could move on and get the season started.

       Tali, putting on the tough sexy-girl act she used around cute guys, shook her hair loose around her shoulders. Cora put her hand over the pimple on her chin. Miri turned sideways, trying as always to minimize her physical presence.

       The next second, the situation got even more complicated.

       The double gym doors banged open behind Wes, and Ty rushed in. His golf shirt was tucked into navy blue pleated pants and his face was flushed as if he’d been running. He panted as he held out his hand to Deacon, completely ignoring Julia and Wes. “Deacon Fallon, my God. I didn’t believe it when my secretary told me you signed the visitors’ log, but here you are. Right here in the old gym where it all started. Welcome back.”

       Close behind the girls, Max hovered without actually joining the group, but she heard his awed, whispered “Deacon Fallon, no way.”

       Deacon hesitated and then took Ty’s hand, but there was none of the old one-Tiger-to-a-fellow-Tiger heartiness she was used to seeing from Ty and the boosters. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What if Ty wooed Deacon away right here with the girls watching?

       “Nice to meet you,” Deacon said. She gripped her left elbow with her right hand to keep from snatching Deacon from Ty.

       “Oh, we’ve met before. Back when you were playing. Ty Chambers. I’m the principal at Milton now.” He held up his right hand, flashing the championship ring. “State—1992.”

       She glanced down. Deacon was wearing a thick silver band on his right hand, but no championship ring. He probably had his mounted in some kind of trophy case. Maybe he thought wearing all four rings would be tacky.

       “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to meet you when you got in.” Now Ty looked at her, but his eyes flashed with simmering anger. “I wasn’t informed that you were coming.”

       Julia wanted to get Deacon away so they could seal their deal. If he met the girls, she just knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. She edged toward him, trying to angle her shoulders between Ty and him, but the principal wasn’t about to be angled any which way.

       “Coach Simon is in his office.” Ty put his hand on Deacon’s shoulder and gestured toward the back of the gym where the coach had his office. “I’m sure he’d love to say hey. You want to walk back and see him? I can give you a tour after that and we can talk about what brought you to Milton today.”

       If she’d been a cat, she’d have hissed at him. How dare he swoop in and take Deacon from her? He wanted her girls to lose, he wanted her to lose, and it looked very much as though he would get his wish. Once a Tiger, always a Tiger. She knew how it worked.

       Except, Deacon didn’t budge. Ty must have put some pressure behind his hand, expecting forward momentum, because he stumbled, almost running into Cora, when Deacon’s black boots stayed planted. Deacon’s shoulders rippled, and even in that ridiculously domesticated checked dress shirt, she felt their power. Before she realized he’d moved, Ty’s hand was hanging in midair and Deacon was one step closer to her than he’d been.

       “You okay?” he asked Cora quietly, but with an unmistakable undertone that said he wasn’t happy she’d almost been stepped on.

       Behind Deacon’s back, Wes lifted his chin and winked at her as if to say, Check out my big brother. The wink was fast, but he was clearly not worried. Maybe the Basketball Brothers really were the good guys.

       “I’d love to say hi to Coach, but I actually got here late for my appointment and I have to get a move on and meet my Tigers.”

       “Your Tigers?” Ty scanned the gym with a half smile—he thought Deacon was making a joke, but he wasn’t sure what it was about. His gaze skipped right over the girls, dismissing them as no more likely to be Deacon’s team than the bleachers were.

       “My brother and I are coaching the Tigers this year.”

       “Coaching the Tigers?” Ty’s smile faltered. He was even surer a joke was being told, but he still didn’t get the punch line.

       Julia did, though. She met Deacon’s eyes, and knew he’d made up his mind. The girls moved, drawn in as Deacon claimed them in the face of their principal’s dismissal.

       Deacon nodded and took one more step so they were standing hip to hip, the gap between them and Ty more pronounced. Wes moved up to stand on her other side. In her mind, she imagined a flourish of trumpets, and it was all she could do not to pump her arms in the air. Tada! The Basketball Brothers saved the day!

       An angry flush swept up Ty’s neck into his face as he finally caught on. He hadn’t liked her much before this—being the thorn in his professional side hadn’t left room for affection—but now…she read it in his eyes. War.

       Bring it!

       Julia lifted her whistle to her lips, ready to get practice started.

       “You’re coaching the girls?” Ty asked.

       Deacon shrugged. “The budget went haywire, right? Ms. Bradley said she needed a coach. Wes and I weren’t busy.”

       “The boosters have reached out to you with paid offers to run clinics, to speak at our awards dinner—hell, to show up for a game—and you never once responded.”

       “I sent checks.”

       “And now you’re here for what?” Ty eyed her. She didn’t blink.

       “To coach the Tigers,” Deacon said. He raised his arm and pointed at the girls standing behind them. “Those are my Tigers, right there. Go, Tigers.”

       Wes gave Ty a double thumbs-up that was both resoundingly cheerful and utterly obnoxious. Julia didn’t have to say a word. Ty knew he’d lost, and she savored her triumph.

      * * *

      SHE BLEW HER whistle and the girls gathered in