rn Coach that his kids might not look like him for a reason：
Babs had probably bagged every grocery boy who？d bagged her groceries！
？What can I do for you？？ he asked； trying to sound cheerfully polite； although he heard his voice
warble in pure stoned terror。
Babs dropped his hands and undid the top button on her pink cotton shirt。 ？I decided to get a little
surprise for the coach。？ She undid another button。
？I see；？ Nate replied evenly。 And he did see： some very impressive cleavage； and nary a tan line；
thanks to her after…noon regimen of topless sunbathing。
Nice。
？I decided to get a little tattoo。？ She giggled； undoing the last button on her shirt and letting it
slide off her shoulders and onto the floor。 ？Just a little something for the coach to discover when
he gets home。？
？Great。？ He nodded。Eye contact； eye contact； eye contact。
？But I？ve got to take special care of it；？ she whispered huskily； turning her back to Nate to reveal
a tiny tattoo of a butterfly； its green wings spread across the burnished leather of her lower
back。 ？But I just can？t seem to reach it；？ she continued。 ？My tattoo artist； Matty？ He said I have to
rub this ointment on it every couple of hours。？
Nate studied the tattoo； trying desperately to clear his head。 What was he supposed to do in this
situation？ Babs was okay； but up close her skin looked kind of like a beat…up old baseball glove；
and her perfume smelled like the soap in a gas station bathroom。
No wonder Coach Michaels needed that Viagra。
Speaking of him： he？d kick Nate？s ass； and not just figuratively； if he knew that his wife had
taken her top off in Nate？s presence。 On the other ha