Coach Daddy Read online

  Coach Daddy

  A Dark Daddy Romance

  BB Hamel

  Contents

  Special Offer!

  1. Leah

  2. Cole

  3. Leah

  4. Cole

  5. Leah

  6. Cole

  7. Leah

  8. Cole

  9. Leah

  10. Cole

  11. Leah

  12. Cole

  13. Leah

  14. Cole

  15. Leah

  16. Cole

  17. Leah

  18. Cole

  19. Leah

  20. Cole

  21. Leah

  Also by BB Hamel

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Sign up for my mailing list and find out about new releases, giveaways, and more. Plus, get a free book and other awesome bonus material! Click here.

  1

  Leah

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  I stand and stare at the handsome man sitting at his desk across from me, his blue eyes piercing into mine.

  Coach Wood is really freaking hot. I mean, I don’t normally gush over guys. That’s not really my thing. But this man is so stupidly attractive that I genuinely don’t understand how I’m even standing in the same room as him.

  Every girl on the training staff keeps talking about it. He looks like a model, older and more rugged and more muscular, but his face is like perfectly symmetrical. His eyes are the sort of blue that almost makes you uncomfortable, but in a good way.

  I have no clue how old he is, but he must be in his forties. I mean, he’s the head coach of an NFL team, so he can’t be young. It’s hard to say exactly just based on his looks, since he’s so handsome, he could pretty much be any age.

  I’d guess forties, though. Ever since I was hired by the Fargo Chainsaws and started a few days ago, I keep finding myself stealing glances at the coach, imagining his lips against my neck, his hands on my body, and now here I am alone with him in his office and he wants to know…

  If I can keep a secret?

  I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

  “You think so?” He raises an eyebrow, a little smile coming to his lips.

  “I think so,” I repeat. “Depends on the secret.”

  He laughs. “Shut the door, please, Leah.”

  I hesitate, but I step further into his office and shut the door behind me. There are a few people still in the locker room, a few huge defensive lineman unwrapping their catcher’s-glove-sized hands.

  “It’s a secret about me,” he says. “The sort of thing that I don’t want getting around the office, you understand?”

  I nod, eyes a little wider than normal, trying to understand what’s happening here. “Okay,” I say. “I think I follow.”

  He sighs. “It’s nothing sinister. It’s just… as a head coach, I’m expected to be tough. These guys would eat me alive if they knew.”

  I stare at him, blinking a little. What the heck is he talking about? I mean, what could his secret possibly be?

  Coach Wood looks like the manliest man imaginable. He’s like the sort of man you’d see in a commercial for axes or something like that. Or maybe truck commercials. Yeah, he’d be changing a tire without his shirt on, sweat rolling down his perfectly sculpted pecs…

  Ahem. I can’t imagine what kind of secret he’d have that would make anyone think less of him.

  The man’s a specimen. A finely-tuned specimen.

  “I think I should just show you,” he says, suddenly standing up.

  “Okay,” I say stupidly.

  He comes around the desk, unbuckling his belt. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to see it,” he says, “but believe me, it’s there.”

  I bite my lip, heart pounding. “Uh, is that necessary?” I ask him as he slips off his pants. He’s wearing black boxer briefs underneath, and I swear I can see the bulge of his cock.

  “It’s an old injury,” he says, almost as if I didn’t speak. “Got surgery on it a while ago, but it never really healed right.” He sighs, both hands on his right quad. “See what I mean?”

  I manage to tear my eyes away from his package long enough to notice the long surgical scar running down the length of his upper thigh. I blink, surprised at how ugly it looks. Whoever did those stitches did a freaking horrible job.

  My mind suddenly snaps into place. He’s showing me an old injury, one that was fixed at some point, but clearly not fixed well. I’d guess a broken femur, maybe even shattered. I step closer to him, kneeling down to examine the scar.

  “I was young and dumb once,” he says, laughing softly. “Never imagined I’d be an old man in constant pain.”

  “You’re not old,” I murmur, staring at his leg. “Do you mind?” I ask as I reach for it.

  “Go ahead,” he says.

  I prod at the spot, touching the scarred skin. I’m in total professional mode, but there is a voice in the back of my head that’s screaming right now.

  I’m kneeling in front of the most handsome man in the world, his pants down around his ankles, touching his bare thigh. His cock is seriously inches from my mouth.

  I glance at it. Shit, shit, I glance away. I can’t look at his dick when I’m this close to him. Concentrate, Leah, you idiot.

  I take a deep breath and pull away. “Hurt?” I ask him.

  “Constantly.” He rubs it softly. “I was hoping you could help.”

  “I have some ideas,” I say. “But how did you get that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  He pulls his pants up and buckles the belt. I wish he wouldn’t.

  “Motorcycle accident,” he says. “Mostly everything else has healed up by now, but I shattered my femur and they had to put me back together. Didn’t do a great job at it, though. Ended my career back then.”

  I nod, not surprised by the injury. I knew that he got hurt a while ago and couldn’t play football anymore, which is why he went into coaching, but I didn’t know it was from a motorcycle accident, or that he still had lingering pain from it.

  That’s the sort of thing football players don’t think about. Each and every one of them is beat to hell with multiple cuts, bruises, lacerations, you name it. They’re basically existing on painkillers and tape to hold them together.

  But nobody complains. The guys that whine about the pain are called weak, picked on by the bigger, stronger players. It’s like a frat, except these men are professionals at hurting other people on the field.

  I can completely understand why Coach Wood wants to keep this from his players. They treat the staff almost the same way they treat each other, and respect has to be earned. At this level, all the players know what they’re doing, and they only listen to a coach when the coach can prove his worth.

  Limping around, complaining about an old injury is not going to get him very far.

  “Think you can help?” he prompts me from my thoughts.

  “Yes,” I say. “I think so. We’ll try some massage and some exercises at first and go from there.”

  He nods. “Very good. And listen, please, keep this between us. I don’t want word getting around that their new coach isn’t up for this.”

  “I promise, it’ll stay between the two of us.”

  He leans back against his desk, arms crossed. I stare into his eyes, not letting myself glance down at his package again. I was inches away from it, practically ready to open my mouth and taste him. It’s
so crazy to be thinking about my boss like this, especially when I’ve only been working here for like a week.

  Then again, nobody’s been working here long. The Fargo Chainsaws are part of a new NFL expansion program, and it’s the latest team to get thrown together. The facility was only opened about two weeks before I was hired.

  “How often?” he asks.

  “Every day if we can,” I say, biting my lip. The thought of being close to him like this every day…

  “We’ll make it happen. Thanks again, Leah.”

  I don’t know how he knows my name, but I’m not complaining. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach Wood.”

  He grins at me. “Call me Cole.”

  “Okay, Cole.” I roll the name around my tongue, feeling it out.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  He goes around his desk and I leave his office, my mind buzzing, confusion and desire warring inside of me.

  He’s probably twenty years older than me. He’s my boss. He’s the head of a new NFL team.

  He wants me down on my knees, massaging his thigh, inches from his big cock.

  I don’t know how I ended up in this situation, but work just got a lot more interesting.

  2

  Cole

  I walk through the hallway of the stadium, my new home office, and I can’t help but smile.

  This was years in the making. I went from an assistant high school coach, to head of a Division 3 college program, to now running one of the new NFL expansion teams. We’re based out of Fargo, North Dakota, which isn’t exactly where I ever wanted to live, but it’s still amazing.

  My own NFL team. I worked fucking hard for this, but it’s still a miracle. I never expected to be here, but here I am.

  I walk past the weight room, the swimming pool, the whirl pools, the equipment room, and any number of storage closets and offices. It takes a lot to run a successful NFL team, and fortunately our owner understands what’s necessary.

  We have everything, the best of everything. I couldn’t ask for anything else…

  Except maybe not to be based out of Fargo, North Dakota.

  I rub my thigh absently as I go. The injury always bothered me, but this last year it’s gotten a lot worse. I think maybe because of the stress of this new venture, or maybe because I’m on my feet a lot more. Either way, it’s painful.

  I keep myself from limping. A couple of linebackers come walking down the hall, heading toward the pool room. I nod at them and they nod back, a sign of respect.

  Respect which is earned, not freely given. If I walked around here like an old man, they wouldn’t give a shit about me.

  “Coach,” a familiar voice says.

  I turn and spot Robby coming toward me, his hat pulled down low over his face, his glasses pushed snug up his nose. He’s staring at a clipboard with some papers on top of it, probably full of numbers.

  “What’s up, Robby?”

  “Sean’s drilling outside. Are you heading out?”

  Sean is our quarterback, the heart of our team. He’s a tall guy, pale, red hair, square jaw. All-American-looking kind of kid. Smart, solid arm, but not the best runner in the world.

  “Not now,” I say.

  “He’s putting up some respectable numbers today, his yards-per-throw alone is just—”

  “Thanks, Robby,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll see you out there.”

  He nods and hurries away. Robby’s my assistant and he’s been with me for a long time. He’s been my right hand ever since I took over at Monray College, and I had to bring him with me when we got moved up to the NFL.

  He’s a numbers guy, basically obsessed with numbers. I need that, to be honest. Keeps me honest.

  I coach from the heart. I go by what I see and what I think. Previous experience tells me what I need to know.

  But Robby keeps me in check. It’s annoying sometimes, but necessary.

  I hurry on. I should be out on the field, watching Sean toss the ball, but I don’t feel like it right now.

  I can hear voices coming from the training room. I recognize Felix, one of our wide receivers. I think he’s going to be our star, but it’s too early to say for sure.

  He’s laughing, saying something else, followed by more laughter. I linger in the hall and look inside.

  Leah’s there, pulling his arm back, stretching his shoulder. Felix is laughing with another receiver, a kid named Alan. I can’t hear what they’re laughing about, but it doesn’t matter.

  I’m too busy staring at Leah.

  The girl is beautiful, striking in a way I’d basically forgotten about. Long, thick, dark hair, bright green eyes, long lashes, pale skin. She looks like she belongs in a Disney movie or something. Her eyes are big and round, her body is full in all the right places, and she’s probably eight inches shorter than me.

  I’ve given up a lot over the years. I don’t have a family and I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time. I’ve been married to my job, to the great sport of football. I’ve spent my whole life coaching, getting better as a coach, improving myself. Certain things have fallen by the wayside.

  I used to clean up as a younger man, especially in my playing days. I’d go from woman to woman, a new one every night. But I’ve slowed down over the years as my priorities have shifted.

  Leah’s the first woman I’ve ever noticed. Hell, she’s more like a girl. She’s twenty-one, almost twenty years younger than me. She could be my daughter.

  I don’t care, though. I can feel that old stirring inside of me. Desire, lust.

  Better coaches than me have gone down for this. The NFL frowns at any sort of improper behavior in its coaches. Any whiff of scandal, and you’re out. They don’t mess around.

  Wanting this girl could be a problem.

  I rub my thigh and sigh. I have bigger issues, though.

  I walk to the training room door and pull it open. The players both look up. “Excuse me, boys,” I say. “I need Leah there for a second.”

  She looks a little surprised.

  “Anything you want, Coach,” Felix says. “Just so long as you keep throwing me that ball.”

  “We’ll see, son,” I say, grinning at him. Felix is as outgoing as he is talented, and it’s hard not to like him.

  Leah follows me out into the hallway.

  “How are you doing?” she asks me quietly.

  “I’m okay. Just checking in on you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She smiles a little.

  “How are you getting on?”

  She shrugs. “The guys are all nice. Nothing major or complicated physically though, since the season hasn’t started.” She hesitates a second. “Except you, of course.”

  I smirk. “I can be very complicated, that’s true.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. I have a depth of character that’s frankly hard to understand.”

  She laughs a little. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

  “It’s not always easy, getting along with all these guys,” I say, gesturing back at the room.

  “They’ve been nice so far.”

  “So far,” I repeat, grinning. “But come to me halfway through the season when they’re all tired, beat-up, and in a shit mood.”

  “I can handle a few cranky football players.”

  “I bet you can.” I lean up against the wall. “I’m just saying, you can come to me if you need anything.”

  She hesitates a second, biting her lip. “Does that offer extend to all the trainers, or just to me?”

  I hesitate a second. “To all of them,” I say finally. “But I picked you for a reason.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “What reason is that, Coach?”

  “Call me Cole,” I correct softly.

  She grins. “Sorry. Cole.”

  “You’re young, you’re new, and you’re talented. Plus, you look like you can keep a secret. And we’re both from around here.”

  She looks surprised. “You’re from Fargo?”

  �
�No, I’m from Grand Forks. But we’re both North Dakota natives, and we have to stick together.”

  She nods a little. “That’s a good point.”

  “All these outsiders are going to swamp us little city folk.”

  “I suspect you can take it.”

  “Yeah, you’re not wrong.” I grin at her. “Listen, come to me after practice from now on, after you work the guys. Standing invitation, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks for all your hard work, Leah.” I push off the wall.

  “You too, Coach.”

  “Cole.”

  “Cole,” she says, calling after me as I walk away.

  I wave at her, grinning to myself. Maybe I’m stupid, maybe I’m making a big mistake.

  I can’t help myself. There’s something about that girl.

  Besides, I need the help.

  My damn leg is killing me, and I can’t afford that distraction. I have a team to run.

  I head toward the field, where I’m sure Robby is waiting with clipboard in hand.

  3

  Leah

  It’s a hot summer morning as I stand on the sidelines, watching the offense scrimmage with the defense.

  “Throw the fucking ball!” Cole shouts, running onto the field. He grabs at Sean the quarterback, who’s wearing a bright red jersey that means he can’t be tackled.

  I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, but Cole grabs him by the shoulder pads and they have some words. It’s heated, but it’s always heated.

  This is what the closed portion of practice is always like. Cole shouts at the guys, gets in their faces… and they take it.