by Radclyffe
“Hey,” Grady said, “how’s it going.”
Blaise’s heart gave a little jump, damn it, but at least she managed not to squeak.
“Fine. Enjoying the local color?” There, she could be friendly.
“It’s quite a shindig,” Grady said. “I think if I stayed home, I’d be the only person in town who wasn’t here.”
Blaise couldn’t help it—she felt her shoulders relaxing. Grady didn’t deserve the back end of her discontent. She should make an effort to be friends. They were going to be working together, after all.
“Well, you’re right about that. I hope you have fun. It might take a little getting used to. I can’t imagine it’s anything like what you usually do on a Saturday night.”
“Believe me,” Grady said, “my Saturday nights are often not this exciting.”
Blaise faced her and narrowed her eyes. “Somehow I cannot believe that.”
Grady gave her that innocent look that was all charm with a side of sexy. “If I’m not working or catching up on sleep, I’m usually trying to scare up a game on the internet.”
“What kind of game?” Blaise asked, a sudden flush of jealousy making her tone sharp. She had visions of those really voluptuous women who popped up in ads when she was trying to buy housewares online, offering to do…whatever. Grady couldn’t possibly mean…
“You don’t think…” Grady laughed loud enough that several people craned their necks to see what the joke was. In a choked voice, she said, “Do I look like the type to frequent online massage parlors?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know what type that might be,” Blaise said, barely suppressing her own laughter. Grady grinned and she couldn’t hold back a smile. Damn it all, she was easy to play with. Blaise caught her breath. Was that what she was doing? Playing with fire, more like it. But oh, the flames were pretty.
“Whatever type that is, I’m not it,” Grady said. “I mean game games, you know—digital board games.”
Blaise’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You are a gamer?”
“Well, mostly online because I really don’t have time, but yeah, I like it.” Grady’s eyes flashed. “You?”
“By default initially—Taylor wanted someone to play with when she couldn’t get enough of her friends at the same time. Now I’m hooked.” Blaise shook her head. “It’s hard to believe, but my daughter and her friends have actually given up video games and are into board games instead. Like, what I was playing in college. It’s so weird.”
“Yeah, there’s something about the give-and-take, the…I don’t know, togetherness of it. It’s cool.”
“I don’t have much time to play,” Blaise said, “especially working nights. Once in a while…”
“What?” Grady asked.
Blaise just knew she was blushing, damn it. “There’s a twenty-four-hour game room in Troy. Sometimes when I get off work and I’m still wound up from a busy night, I stop in there for an hour or two.”
“Wow, you are serious.” Grady shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. “So, maybe one morning…”
“You don’t miss a step, do you?” Blaise said with a wry smile.
Grady shrugged. “When I have a goal in mind, I’m pretty persistent.”
“A goal, huh? I’m not sure that’s a flattering description.”
Grady leaned closer. “You want flattering? How about when I want to get to know a beautiful, sexy, intriguing woman better, I’m relentless.”
“Relentless I believe.” Blaise moved up to the front of the line as the man ahead of her ordered and stepped away. “But in my case, flattery is appreciated, but not likely to work.”
She wanted to mention that Grady had a beautiful, sexy young woman waiting for her somewhere on the field, but that really, truly was not her business. Besides, she didn’t want Grady to think she cared. If Grady knew just how much she enjoyed the way Grady looked at her, she would just be encouraged to be even more relentless, and Blaise was not available for pursuit. She had two years before Taylor left for college, and nowhere in her blueprint for the future was there room for a flirtation that had all the earmarks of being trouble.
“Well…” Grady raised her voice as Blaise stepped up to the counter. “I’m also inventive and flexible.”
The broad-faced, balding food vendor raised a brow and nodded with an appreciative grunt. “That sounds pretty good to me.”
“Charlie,” Blaise said with a laugh, “she would run you ragged. And besides—Mildred would murder you.”
He chuckled. “True enough. You having fries with the double cheese?”
“Of course.”
“Make that two,” Grady called, “and I’m buying.”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
“You don’t have to do that, Grady,” Blaise said.
“I know,” Grady said, sliding her hands into her pockets. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d let me.”
“All right, but next time it’s on me.”
“Next time,” Grady said with a little rumble of satisfaction. “Deal.”
Blaise sighed. She’d been outmaneuvered, and she didn’t really mind. Grady was easy to talk to. Easy to look at. Easy to give in to. Too damn easy in too many ways.
Chapter Twelve
Grady carried her cardboard tray of burger and fries along with a bottle of water through the crowd, which had changed direction and begun surging toward the field like a pack of lemmings heading for the cliff edge. Rather than try to set a course, she just let herself be carried along with the flow and finally reached the bleachers Courtney had pointed out earlier. She scanned the ten levels of aluminum benches, despairing of ever finding Courtney, but there she was, half standing and waving her arm. Grady nodded to let her know she’d seen her and plotted out a course of how to get there. Two rows from the top.
An insurmountable challenge at first glance, considering people were packed shoulder to shoulder wherever she looked, but she’d never been one to give up easily. Only hoping she could make it before halftime, she took a breath and plunged in. She needn’t have worried. As she began to climb, muttering excuse me, sorry as she tried not to tread on sitting people, a path appeared as those already settled in simply shifted an inch or two one way or the other before resuming their positions. Holding her own food aloft, she stepped gingerly over seats or on seats while tiptoeing through the obstacle course of strategically positioned food and drink containers. When she reached the row below Courtney’s with nary a crushed French fry or spilled soda in her wake, she exhaled for the first time, only to discover a pair of lace-up, calf-high black boots topped by skinny blue jean–clad legs occupying the ten inches of bench next to Courtney.
“Hey!” Courtney said brightly. “You made it.”
“I did, and I’m still not sure how.” Hesitating, Grady smiled at the blonde from the pizza parlor who belonged to the feet on the bench.
Taylor Richelieu tilted her head, for an instant looking very much like her mother with her open, appraising gaze, and shifted her feet off the seat. “How you doing.”
“Great, thanks. I’m Grady.”
“Taylor.”
Courtney scooted over a couple of inches, and a space appeared beside her.
Grady dropped down with a whoosh of relief. “Did I miss anything?”
Courtney laughed. “You made it just in time for kickoff.”
Now that she was sitting, she realized she was starving. Pizza felt like a long time ago. Trying the burger—not at all bad for truck food—Grady checked the field. Three refs stood in a semicircle in the middle of the field at the fifty yard line with the two teams lined up on their own sidelines. Two or three players from each team jogged out for the traditional coin toss. She finished off the burger as the players went through the motion of choosing who’d kick off first.
“Excellent burger,” Grady said as she wiped her hands on the paper napkins she’d shoved in her pocket.
“Here.”
Courtney handed her a brown paper bag. “Have a doughnut.”
“Maybe a little later. Thanks.”
Courtney shifted the bag a bit higher and shook it under her nose. “They’re much better when they’re hot.”
Maybe it was the inviting tone in her voice, but Grady chalked it up to the irresistible odor of apples, brown sugar, spices, and warm dough. Really, who could resist. She stuck her hand in the bag, extracted a plain-looking doughnut dusted with sugar that smelled like heaven, and took a bite. Better than heaven. “You’re right. Much better this way.”
“Trust me, I know these things.” Courtney handed her the bag. “Pass these to the hungry crew behind you. Payment for saving seats.”
Grady twisted as much as she was able without elbowing the guy beside her and held up the bag. “You guys want doughnuts?”
Three voices simultaneously chorused totally, yes. Taylor, seated in the middle of the trio, snaked out a hand and the bag promptly disappeared.
“So, ah, when did you arrange to have them save seats?” Grady asked Courtney. “’Cause I’ve been with you since we left the hospital, and I don’t recall you making any plans.”
Laughing, Courtney said, “I just commandeered the space when I saw these guys hogging the bench. The one who looks a lot like Flann, only cuter, is Margie Rivers, the beanpole on the end is Tim Brunel, and the one with the kick-ass boots is Taylor Richelieu.”
The teens made sounds resembling greetings as the doughnut bag deflated.
“Appreciate you saving some space,” Grady said over her shoulder.
“No problem.” Taylor crumpled up the empty bag and stuffed it into one of the ubiquitous cardboard food carriers on the floor between her kick-ass boots. “We were mostly holding them until someone we knew came along.”
Tim snorted, and Taylor elbowed him.
“What?” he asked, affronted.
“It’s all cool,” Taylor muttered.
Courtney glanced back. “Something up?”
Margie shrugged. “Nothing new. We just didn’t want to have to put up with some of Taylor’s fans for the whole game.”
“Please,” Taylor said with a dramatic snort. “Billy Riley is a jerk.”
“That too,” Margie said.
“It’s not a big deal, Court,” Taylor said. “Plus, you had doughnuts.”
Taylor’s grin reminded her of Blaise’s rare smile, and heat stirred in her center. She turned to watch the kickoff before she went any further with her mental musings and totally lost her focus.
Courtney leaned forward, her shoulder brushing Grady’s.
Grady had no room to move away. Courtney’s bare arm rested against hers, warm and firm. She hadn’t been this close to a woman in months. Courtney smelled good too. Oranges or something citrusy like that, fresh and sparkling. All of it—the touch, the scent, the casual togetherness—was nice. And that was all. Nice.
She wasn’t getting any of the usual internal vibes from being around a sexy, possibly available woman in a situation where something more might develop. She felt like pinching herself. As if she didn’t know exactly why she wasn’t acting like herself. She plucked up a fry and watched the players run up and down the field, trying really hard not to think about Blaise.
* * *
Blaise forced herself to focus on the game and not on Courtney and Grady sitting a few rows behind her in the adjacent section. If she turned her head just a little, she could see Court and Grady perfectly, looking like an attractive couple enjoying a date. She was not in the habit of self-torture, and this was crazy-making. Not looking was the logical option.
Besides, she’d already seen them together when they’d arrived. She knew they were watching the game together. There was nothing to be gained by noticing them, together, again. And she definitely didn’t need Taylor catching her watching and assuming she was keeping an eye on her and her friends. A cardinal sin in public situations, and one she tried hard not to commit, even though she couldn’t shake all the worry, ever since Billy Riley had taken to pursuing her. The anxiety had gotten worse after Margie and Blake had been hassled a couple of times by some of Billy’s crowd. Taylor was careful and rarely went anywhere without some of her friends along, but physical confrontations weren’t the only dangers any longer. Bullying came in many forms, some of them deadly. Taylor swore nothing out of hand had been happening, and that Billy was just a nuisance and, to quote her, a dipwad. Still, Billy Riley showed all the signs of harboring an angry, aggressive streak when denied the attention he wanted.
“What’s the matter?” Abby said quietly.
Blaise jumped. “What? Nothing.”
“You sure? Because I’ve seen you hip-deep in emergencies and not look so tense.”
Blaise let out a breath. On her other side, Carson was so engrossed in watching the game and her newly returned Army husband that Blaise doubted she was listening. “Billy Riley has been hassling Taylor a little bit. He’s interested in her, and she’s not interested in return. His way of getting her attention is to make remarks about her friends—or me. He accused her of being a dyke, like her mother, a few days ago. I don’t think Taylor wanted to tell me that, but she was angry enough it came out.”
“He’s friends with a couple of the senior boys who were giving Blake a problem, isn’t he.”
“Yes.” Blaise grimaced. “He’s been in trouble since he was ten or twelve. Shoplifting, minor vandalism. The kinds of things an unsupervised, unhappy kid gets into. But now he’s almost a young man, and nothing excuses his behavior.”
Abby squeezed Blaise’s knee. “Taylor will tell you if anything else happens, won’t she?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it. I just worry.”
Abby huffed. “Believe me, I do know about that.”
“Of course you do. God, it’s hard.” She shook her head. “And I think they handle it better than we do most of the time.”
“I know—it’s kind of amazing. They have each other, and they’re not only smart, but they know they can come to us.”
“You’re right. And I need to remember that.”
After a moment, Abby said nonchalantly, “I don’t suppose part of what has you so wound up has anything to do with Grady being here.”
“It most certainly doesn’t,” Blaise said a little too quickly.
“Okay. Just wondering.”
“You can stop wondering. We had a friendly conversation over doughnuts, for heaven’s sakes. Hardly anything romantic.”
“Oh, I dunno, I had doughnuts this morning, and it was very romantic.”
Laughing, Blaise shoved against Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t gloat.”
Carson leaned around Blaise and pointed a finger at Abby. “I heard that. And you’re talking about my sister. Ew.”
Abby grinned. “Oh, I’m so sorry, because I’m sure up until this very moment you didn’t think Flann had ever had sex.”
Someone a row in front of them laughed out loud.
Carson rolled her eyes. “All the same, I don’t have to have the picture in my mind. Where is my sister anyhow?”
Looking self-satisfied, Abby said, “She waited at the hospital while Blake finished up helping with a patient he was following to give him a ride. They’re probably down there on the sidelines somewhere.”
The action on the field picked up and everyone went back to watching the game until a few minutes later Abby pulled her phone from her pocket and checked a text.
“Damn it,” she said after a second. “The ER.”
“You’re not on call, are you?” Blaise said.
“No, but Marcus Winston’s mother fell, and they’re bringing her in for evaluation. He asked me personally if I would see her.”
“Gladys is living in the senior residence facility out on 372 now, isn’t she?” Blaise said.
“Yes,” Carson said. “After Archie died, she really couldn’t keep up the house on her own.”
“Well,” Abby said, “I can hardly tell a staff member I
can’t be bothered to come and see his mother. Hopefully, I’ll just need to poke my head in. Glenn is there and can handle anything.”
“Sorry you have to leave, but that’s what happens when you get to be the doctors’ doctor,” Blaise said.
“Probably has more to do with me being the chief. Either way, I have to go. Can you take the kids to the Rivers place when the game is done?” Abby said.
“Sure,” Blaise said, even though she hadn’t been planning to show up until it was time to take them all home at the end of the night. She could always make two trips.
Carson said, “I’ll take them, but they’ll have to wait until Bill is done and gets the equipment squared away.”
“No,” Blaise said, “that’s silly. I’m here. I’ve got room for them.”
“All right,” Abby said. “I’ll meet you all later if I can.”
“Call me,” Blaise said, “but I’ll handle the transport tonight.”
“Thanks.” Abby threaded her way down the bleachers and disappeared.
“Abby is quickly becoming a major force at the hospital,” Carson said.
“She’s great, and everybody knows it.”
“We are lucky to have her,” Carson said. “And of course, my sister is doubly lucky.”
“It seems that’s mutual where those two are concerned,” Blaise said. The pang of longing that rose up out of nowhere was not unfamiliar, but usually she could ignore it. She loved that her friends were happy, and every time someone she knew celebrated a new relationship, she hoped for their happiness. Sure, every now and then she wished she had someone waiting at home to hear about her day, or help her think through a problem, or make her feel wanted. Or hell, sexy even.
She just hadn’t felt so many of those things all at once in such a short period of time. And she knew exactly who to blame. Funny, the last thing she felt when she thought of Grady was anger. If only she could figure out exactly what she did feel.