Medora
I stood on the sidelines in yet another tracksuit, watching the boys run plays. Millie had been right—watching college athletes wasn’t the safest choice for someone like me. Not that I was losing control or anything. They didn’t remind me of Clyde in the slightest. It was just… weird. A few of them were clearly trying to impress me.
I’m thirty-seven, for f**k’s sake. I cannot be that attractive.
“I don’t think you being on the sidelines is good for the boys,” Denver whispered, leaning in. His arms were crossed, and his tone was laced with amusement.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I replied with a small smile. “I should probably head to my office. It’s just practice—no one’s likely to get hurt.”
Denver nodded, and I turned on my heel, walking back to my office.
Once inside, I settled a
