“I do enjoy winning at home.”
DeMarcus wrapped his hands around her left foot. “Good grief. Your feet are like ice.”
Jaclyn closed her eyes and sighed, sliding deeper into the couch. “Your hands are so warm.”
“Where are your socks?”
“Probably in my sock drawer.” She shifted her right foot closer to DeMarcus’s arms and sighed again when he wrapped one hand around that foot.
“It’s too cold for you to walk around on bare feet.”
Jaclyn gave him a noncommittal hum. “I noticed you’re starting Jamal now instead of Rick.” With her eyes closed, Jaclyn appeared ready to go back to sleep.
“Not a very subtle change of topic.” DeMarcus pressed his palm into her high arches. Her skin was soft and smooth to his touch.
“Did you still want to talk about my feet?”
“ No.”
“Well, then.” She opened her cinnamon eyes and claimed his gaze. “Why is Rick sitting on the bench?”
DeMarcus froze. He was the one massaging her feet. Why was she asking him about Warrick Evans? He flexed his shoulders beneath his thick blue sweatshirt to ease the grip of jealousy. “Rick’s playing too tight. He’s hesitating when he has good shots.”
“Have you talked with him?”
“About what?”
“To find out why he’s playing so tentatively.”
DeMarcus stroked the sole of her right foot with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m his coach, not his pastor. Rick knows his numbers are down, and he knew he was competing with Jamal for the starting spot. Jamal is one of our leading scorers.”
“He also leads the league in fouls. For every four points he gets for us, he gives the other team two free throws.”
His shoulders were tightening again. “We’re working on that.”
Jaclyn wiggled her right foot free of DeMarcus’s hold and slipped her left foot into his hands. “But does Rick have to sit on the bench while you work with Jamal?”
DeMarcus’s jaw tightened. “Did Rick complain to you?”
Her eyes twinkled at him. “Does Rick strike you as the kind of person who would complain to the team’s owner about the way his coach was treating him?”
“No, but Oscar runs to you whenever the team takes a—”
“No, he doesn’t. No one came to me. I’m the one asking the questions.”
DeMarcus wrapped his fingers around her slender foot. Why was she questioning him? He thought she believed in him. “Are you telling me how to coach the team?”
Jaclyn’s foot stiffened beneath his touch. “I tried that before. Remember? When I suggested you get to know the players on a more personal level. It worked with Serge. Why won’t you give Rick a chance?”
“I don’t want you to second-guess me.”
“I can see that.” Jaclyn sat forward and rubbed her right hand across his furrowed brow. DeMarcus fought against the soothing effect. “Relax, Guinn. I’m not second-guessing you. I’m making sure we’re on the same page.”
“We are. We’re going to the play-offs. Trust me.”
“I do. But I also want you to trust Rick.”
“Rick lost his nerve. We need players with heart to take us to the postseason.” DeMarcus felt her tense under his touch when he criticized her favorite player.