TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "ARM"

Welcome! Today's prompt is "arm". I'm taking the beginning of the third book in my football series, First & Ten, for my story today. This book is about Coach Bass.

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   As he climbed the stairs from the workout room, Coach Pete Sebastian’s temper flared. Stupid idea. Just bullshit to get the media off our necks. Parker is obviously an asshole who doesn’t know our team. He’s judging everyone by two rotten apples. The more he thought about the unnecessary upset to his men, the more he burned. 

   The lines on his forehead deepened. His light brown eyes clouded with anger as his step quickened. I’ll teach this jerk something about how to deal with my team.    He rounded the corner and stopped at the office next to his. Raising his arms to rest his hands against the door frame, he leaned his trim, sweaty, six foot two inch body into the space.

Pete stared at the person sitting at the desk and raised his brows.

“I’m looking for Joe Parker?”

   A blonde woman, facing the window, swiveled in the desk chair and leveled her gorgeous big, blue eyes on him.

“Yes?” Her eyes scanned his body clad in only gym shorts and a tank top before she rested her gaze on his face.

“No, Joe Parker.”

“That’s right. Jo. J-o. Short for Josephine. What can I do for you?” She rose from her chair and Pete’s mouth went dry.

Even wearing high heels, she wasn’t over five foot six. She wore a turquoise silk suit, the jacket open, showing a white silk blouse underneath.  The scoop neck revealed enough creamy cleavage to capture his attention. He lowered his arms and stepped inside.

   Her hips were slim, but not skinny and her legs slender. Her peaches and cream complexion showed a slight blush around her cheek bones and her kissable lips shined with a bright pink lipstick.

   Pete had never seen a woman so beautiful in all of Monroe before. Sweat started under his arms as he realized that in a wife-beater T-shirt and shorts, he was practically naked and sweaty as hell. He probably reeked, like a dozen pairs of dirty gym socks, and hadn’t shaved. He rubbed his hand along his stubbly chin as if to hide the wiry scruff there.

“And you are?” As she approached him, a subtle floral scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room, teasing his nose.

“Pete Sebastian. Coach Pete Sebastian. Head Coach Pete Sebastian,” he stammered, his mind suddenly blank. Smooth. Very smooth, asshole. Like a twelve-year-old.

                                         ****

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Picture Prompt - Kate's Story

Welcome! This week, in honor of Valentine's day, is this picture prompt. We're restricted to 300 words. We continue Kate's story.

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Who shows  up fifteen minutes early for a date? What an idiot. He’ll think I’m overanxious. Anxious is more like it.

The glass of red wine Kate ordered arrived. She took a large sip. Don’t get drunk. Nothing more disgusting than a drunk woman. Especially at 50. It’s been so long, do I remember how to do this? Maybe I should go home.
As she reached for her wallet to pay for the wine, Jeff slipped into the seat across from her.
“A woman who’s on time. That’s refreshing.”
She looked into his warm, brown eyes and tried to smile. 

Refreshing or desperate?
“We haven’t known each other long. And it’s Valentine’s Day and all, but I had another reason for asking you to dinner.”
“Really?” What other reason than getting laid?
He ordered the same wine as she, then lowered his gaze to the red table cloth. 
“Not a romantic one.” He fidgeted.
“Oh?” Her stomach dropped to the floor. Shit. What am I doing here?
“I was wondering if you’d thought about starting your own business?” 
“Business? Doing what?” Forming losers anonymous? Dumped wives club?

“Making high end evening gowns.”

“Me?” Kate pointed at her own chest and laughed.
“What’s funny?”
 “That’s so not me. Look at me. Nothing high end about me anymore.”

“It’s no joke. You’re good, better than good. I know some people. I’m interested in helping you get started, if you agree to buy your fabric from my company.” 

“You’re serious?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Absolutely. You have talent.”

“From seamstress to designer. I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass. Jeff clinked his with hers.

“Can you meet me in the office at ten tomorrow?”

She nodded.

“Now let’s order. I’m starved.” He laced his fingers with hers.

Bless you, Jeff.

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