An Ordinary Fairy Tale (A Fairy Tale Life Book 1) Read online

  Awww, I loved that she cared enough to set me up with her friend. “All right, all right, you made your point. Sign me up.” I was waving the white flag. As if I had a choice in the matter.

  “Oh, I already did. First practice is in a few hours, so you better scoot or you’ll be late. And check your phone. Knowing Casey, I’m sure there’s already an email with all the details you’ll need.”

  The athletic complex was enormous, like nothing I’d ever seen. It sat right in the heart of the city, bookended on the east and west sides by a dense, green, woodland area. I had to admit, knowing I was coaching with a friend of Becky's was the only thing keeping me from launching into a full-blown panic attack.

  In response to Casey Clark’s email earlier in the day, I admitted up-front that I was ignorant of all things soccer. She was really nice about it though, dismissing my lack of experience and explaining that soccer at this age was more like herding cats.

  From what I could see, even just from the parking lot, I had to agree with her analogy, though that didn’t make it any less terrifying. But as busy as it was, it also brought the sense of peace I connected to being surrounded by the beauty of nature. I hadn’t been there two minutes before seeing two fawns frolic along the tree line. They didn’t seem phased by the activity on the fields, and the kids seemed unaffected by them as well. I took this to mean the fawns came around often, but I chose to believe their appearance was a sign of good things to come.

  I quickly scanned her email once more on my phone, confirming when and where to meet Coach Casey as the acid-coated knot in my stomach tightened a little bit more. Just think about the fawns, I thought, taking a deep breath to dispel my nervousness. Running out of excuses, I twisted my impossible tangle of red curls into a bun on top of my head, grabbed my keys and water bottle, then headed toward the fields.

  The first thing I noticed when stepping off the sidewalk was the grass. The turf was thick and lush under my feet, well-kept by what must have been a skilled grounds team. It had to be a struggle this time of year, considering the almost unbearable Texas summer heat and absence of rain. The sheer size of the green space was astounding and a bit overwhelming. So far, I’d been impressed with everything about this place.

  Well, almost everything. It quickly became apparent I was going to have trouble finding the correct field. I’d been directionally challenged since forever. I owned that, but my abovementioned affliction was not to blame in this particular instance. One would have to be a mind reader to find their way around this maze of chaos.

  First of all, I counted four rows of soccer fields, with some rows being six fields deep. All the fields were named after branches of the armed forces, the park being a memorial built by the city to honor veterans from the area. At that moment, I wished the park also came with a Marine or two to point folks in the right direction.

  I was looking for Coast Guard II. Just follow the signs, her email said. Signs? What signs? There were no signs. And if there were, how on earth could I find them? Thousands of little sweaty, screaming children were running here, there, and everywhere. I watched as kids weaved in and out of orange cones, all while chasing and kicking balls to one another. To say it was a lot to take in would be putting it mildly.

  As I walked along, I quickened my pace, panic starting to creep in. I scanned the crowd with no idea who I was even looking for. Not having known how crowded it would be, I hadn’t even thought to request that Casey send me a picture. The number of people seemed to be multiplying every minute as more and more people walked up from the parking lot. My mind screamed at me to turn around, get back in my car, and drive the three miles back to my apartment and out of the overpopulated, unfamiliar area—but no.

  I stopped right where I was, closed my eyes, and took a moment to breathe deeply. In. Out. In. Out. I counted my breaths and concentrated on blocking out all the extraneous noise, narrowing my focus. I needed to find Casey. As soon as I found her, I’d be fine.

  After spending another agonizing ten minutes wandering around in circles, I spotted an incredibly tall man with a soccer logo on the back of his shirt. Thank God, someone who looked official. Official and terrifying.

  When he turned, I saw his burly beard and had to force myself to start moving in his direction. I’d flat run out of options and the logo on his shirt matched the decals I’d seen on just about every car window in the parking lot. I figured if anyone could help me, he could. But would I be physically capable of asking someone like him for help?

  Through the course of my life, my mother developed severe agoraphobia. It got worse each year. I lived with my mom in our condo in Dallas until it became time for me to start school, but when I turned six, I was shipped off to an all-girls boarding school in Hartford. My place at the school had been secured and paid for through Mr. Preston, which meant my father was footing the bill. I think Mr. Preston thought getting me away from my mother was the only chance for me to grow up to be normal. And while I do think I was better off being raised 1,500 miles away from my crazy mother, I was living proof that nature could trump nurture. I may not look like her, but I was my mother’s child. And her fears and anxieties were as much a part of me as the blood running through my veins. Add to that the fact that I was raised at an all-girls school, and not only did I fear crowds and strangers, but men were also on the list. High on the list. Think of me as the female version of Raj from The Big Bang Theory.

  I got as far as the edge of the man’s field before my knees locked up and my legs became too wobbly to continue. I was visibly shaking, of that I was sure. My fear of crowds was nothing compared to my fear of strangers. In this specific situation, I was facing both. And given that this particular stranger was a giant, scary-looking man with what seemed to be a permanent scowl, I had to mentally root myself to the ground to keep from fleeing the park altogether. I closed my eyes, trying once again to regain control. Think of the fawns, Vaughn, think of the fawns. I just needed to ask him one question.

  Wanting to move onto his field to ask, and actually doing it, were two different things entirely. Just the thought of it made chills shoot up my back and into my hair, making my scalp tingle. I couldn’t even lift my gaze from the ground. There was no way I was going to approach him. Blinking back tears, I veered to the left, my new plan being to get the heck outta Dodge. I knew my limits. And all of this was way too much for me.

  I scanned the park to get my bearings and find the quickest route to my car, when I caught another glimpse of the man from the corner of my eye. He’d unknowingly moved toward me, and closer up he didn’t really look that scary. His face was framed by dark brown hair, but his eyes were bright and blue and kind. He had laugh lines. That was hopeful, wasn't it? Something was drawing me to him.

  I directed my focus back to the field I’d just been trying to escape. The man was down on one knee, giving instructions to tiny sweaty boys and girls. Their little red faces were looking right at him, with rapt eyes wide as they nodded in understanding. As I watched him smile and laugh at something a child just said, I physically felt my fears and anxiety dissipate and drain from my body, leaving me with a calm I hadn’t experienced in ages. I felt a smile spread wide across my face as I watched the little players form two lines and start passing the ball in a zigzag pattern, while who I now realized was their coach, guided and directed them.

  There was something endearing about the man, despite the disproportion. Capturing the attention of a group of kids was a feat in itself, but to deliver instructions and have them follow through without a second thought was impressive. In the time I spent watching him, my heart had slowed to a reasonable pace, and I’d regained stability in my legs. I was able to garner just enough nerve to maybe ask for directions or to at least see if he knew where I could find Casey Clark.

  I approached him as soon as he dismissed his team to complete their next set of drills. “Excuse me.” I consciously tried to settle my shaking voice as I waited for him to respond. He was standing on the
sideline, watching his team pass the balls back and forth.

  “Um, s-sir?” I moved in closer, close enough to smell cologne and mint like a cloud surrounding him. With that, he turned his expressionless face my way.

  “Um, hi. I’m with a youth coaching class at Texas A&M.” My breaths were coming quicker and quicker, deflating the confidence and courage I’d just found a moment ago. I clutched my water bottle tighter to my body, crossing my arms over my chest. Eye contact, I reminded myself. Eye contact.

  “I’m, uh, having a little trouble finding the coach I’m supposed to be working with.” There. I got it out. Take a breath, or not… because apparently I had more to say, so I rambled on. His proximity was having a strange effect on me.

  “I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big… ” I said, looking around, “the park, I mean, and I was hoping, you know… since you’re wearing that shirt,” pointing to the smaller soccer logo on his shirt pocket, “I thought you might be able to help me. Her name is Casey Clark?” I phrased that last part like a question and found myself holding my breath. That was it, right? I’d gotten it all out. I asked, he would answer, and then I could be on my way to Casey, and all would be right with the world.

  While I waited, I took him in. He was nothing if not intense. His eyes were the most perfect shade of light sky blue, each iris ringed with navy. And despite his icy glare, I couldn’t tear my eyes from his. Half of me wanted to run away screaming, while the other half was begging to jump into his arms to confirm his chest was as hard as it looked from where I stood. I caught myself wondering if his hands and lips would affect me the same way. I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

  Um, hello! Please, for the love of God, say something!

  But no. He just stood there, looking me up and down, shaking his head with a curious smirk. Then the man rolled his eyes and looked around the field as if searching for someone in particular. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight and took an exaggerated breath before answering.

  “Well, you aren’t going to find her out here.”

  His emphasis on the word ‘her’ was curious, but I let it slide. I was itching to get out from under this spell he had me under, which apparently turned me into a lust-filled, blabber mouthed idiot.

  Wait, did he just say I wouldn’t find her here? I think that’s what he said, but it was hard hearing anything over my pounding heart. At that point, I should have just walked away. It was clear I was interrupting something very important and equally clear he wanted nothing to do with me. But I wasn’t quite ready to leave his presence. He was becoming someone I wanted to know. He was making me feel things I'd never felt before. Plus, he smelled good and made me tingle all over.

  “Oh, am I at the wrong park?” Crap, here we go again with the rambling. “But no, surely not… “ I shifted from foot to foot, wiping my palms on my shorts yet again, one at a time as I juggled my water bottle. “I programmed the address into Google Maps, and this is where it led me.” Google Maps was never wrong, right? “I mean, I guess I could email her again… ”

  I looked down, twisting my fingers together over and over, willing my body to disappear. I had no idea where to go from here, and I was positive he could see my heart beating through my shirt. The almost visceral reaction I had to this man was terrifying. I’d always kept men at arm’s length, never letting my guard down. I’d spent five years diligently defending the fortress erected around my heart, yet this guy made me want to open the gates and let him right in.

  The man blew out a breath and repositioned his cap on his head. “No, no, you’re in the right place. Are you Vaughn Jennings?”

  Oh, he knows my name! Wait, how does he know my name? He was waiting for a response, but the grimace he wore indicated he was hoping I’d say no. Like he wanted me to be anyone but Vaughn Jennings.

  “Yes, um, sir? I’m Vaughn Jennings, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a huge hurry. I’m already late for practice, and… “ I smiled and bit the inside of my cheek, trying to mask the myriad of feelings coursing through me. Could he not see how uncomfortable he was making me? And what was with all the staring? I felt like he could see directly into my soul with those eyes.

  “Hello, Vaughn,” he said, standing stock-still as he offered his mammoth hand to me. “I’m Casey Clark, and it looks like we’ll be coaching together this season.“ His monotone voice caught me off guard, so the actual words coming from his lips took a few seconds to process.

  Wait. What?

  I watched his face closely, waiting for him to say more, and I swear I saw the corners of his mouth turn up just a fraction. He drew another deep breath, offering his hand to me with a little more authority.

  Am I drooling? I’m probably drooling.

  His hand still hung between us as time stood still, but I could not move. My emotions were waging war against one another. Attraction versus terror. Flee from his attention or fight for it?

  Is this a joke? This has to be a joke, right?

  I felt the smile melt from my face as reality started sinking in. Unable to maintain eye contact, my gaze dropped to my fidgety hands. I laced and unlaced my fingers (a terrible habit) as I tried to formulate a response, but I had no words. There were no words. The heat of embarrassment and anxiety crept up my chest and onto my face, inching all the way to the tips of my ears.

  With great difficulty, I tried to meet his eyes again. Those bewitching bright blue eyes that bore holes into me. Pursing my lips together, I searched my stunned brain for something to say.

  “It’s, um, nice to meet you, Mister Clark,” I stammered, hoping my emphasis on the word ‘mister’ hadn’t gone unnoticed. I reached out to shake his enormous hand just as he was withdrawing it. Not awkward at all.

  He acknowledged my reply with a grunt, mumbling about getting back to the team, but I stood there like a fool until he gestured toward the sideline. He wanted me off his field, I guessed, so I scurried away from his line of sight.

  It took me a few minutes to regroup, taking deep gulps from my water bottle, then sucking in air as if I’d been underwater for days. I didn’t understand how this had even happened. When my professor set me up to coach with her ‘good friend Casey,’ I never thought to ask if Casey was a he or a she. But with a name like Vaughn, I knew I had no business assuming anything.

  Steadying my resolve, I reminded myself that this was my assignment and I would see it through, no matter what. If nothing else it would be a good exercise in self-control, because for a moment I thought I might jump on his back, lick his neck, and ask him to make babies with me. For real.

  I’d spent my entire life since puberty keeping my hormones in check. It wasn’t too hard with the memories of my mother’s self-destruction as motivation. But everything I had suppressed decided to surface all at once, ushered out into the open by the icy blue eyes of one Casey Clark. He seemed to be a man of few words, and even fewer manners, but he possessed a magnetism I couldn’t quite explain.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  It took a few more breaths before I felt in control again.

  I watched the rest of the practice from the sidelines, trying to get a feel for Casey’s coaching style. I also paid close attention to the kids on the team. I needed to know the little people I’d be spending so much time with. That’s why I’m here, right? I was here for the kids, not their brooding, mysterious coach.

  Settled on the edge of the field, out of the way, I spent a large part of the time taking observation notes. Listening to Casey coach was fascinating. I became engrossed in his simple, yet effective way of explaining the drills. He made sure the whole team understood how the skills they were practicing would be useful at game time. Of course, every word from his mouth was exclusively for the kids.

  He flat-out ignored me.

  But man, even his voice was big—and sexy. A true man’s voice that fit him to perfection. But his presence wasn’t the only thing big about Casey. He was much taller than average
and built like a brick wall. He was weathered, and the masculine way in which he carried himself didn’t fit with someone who wore a suit and tie to an office. Neither did his tanned skin. This was a man that wasn’t afraid of hard work. And if I had to guess, I bet he preferred manual labor over a corporate job any day.

  It seemed like only minutes had passed when Casey blew the whistle, and it shocked me that time was already up. I’d lost myself, watching him with the team. With the kids, he was a different person. That was the person I wanted to know, not the one I’d encountered a little less than an hour ago.

  As the team gathered together for a huddle, I saw Casey glance in my direction. He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind and leaned in as the kids all put their hands in a pile on top of his.

  “1-2-3, TEAM!”

  I watched them throw their arms in the air as they cheered, then the kids cleared out, each one pairing off with a matching parent or sibling. Except Casey…

  Where was his child? What kind of man volunteered to spend three to four hours a week wrangling other people’s children with no horse in the race? The kind of man I wanted to know more about, that’s what kind.

  I watched him gather and collect the equipment from my place on the grass, before swinging the overstuffed mesh bag over his shoulder. He started toward the parking lot and got about ten feet away before turning to face the spot where I was standing. Great. He’d totally caught me checking him out as he walked away.

  “Well?” He smirked, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. ”It was nice meeting you, I guess.”

  The wind shifted, and the smell of clean sweat, woodsy body wash, spearmint, and pure man hit me again, stronger and better than before. It made my knees wobble and almost stole my witty retort, but I was determined. His clipped speech and flippant attitude had been more than enough to tell me I wasn’t wanted here, but that was just tough. For whatever reason, I was assigned to his team, and if he didn’t like it he could take it up with his ‘friend’ Becky Hanson.