Casual and light? Is that what they were doing? One actual date and two make-out sessions. She’d been the one practically begging for it against the side of the house. He owed her nothing, especially not empty promises. She took long strides to her car. She had absolutely nothing to be mad about.
She was mad.
Two men, dressed in identical khaki pants, navy blue polos, and ball caps approached in the opposite direction. One blond, the other dark-haired. Dalt and Logan.
Logan’s smile and the appreciative, knowing slide of his gaze up and down her body only made the battle between her logic and her emotions worse.
* * *
With effort, Logan unstuck his eyes from the length of leg highlighted by the white shorts and ridiculous heels. Who wore shorts and high-heels? His gaze eventually reached her face.
“You.” She bit out the word as if she’d caught him jacking off in a movie theater.
“What?” His stomach did a weird flippy thing.
“Am I one in a long line of women you’ve wooed with your culinary skills? That’s what Darcy said.”
Robbie Dalton muttered something and looked at the treetops. “I’ll just be . . .” He cleared his throat and walked away as fast as he could.
Logan watched Dalt leave with something akin to fear. Logan backed into a small alley between brick buildings, wide enough for foot traffic but not cars. She followed, juggling an armful of books and a pissy attitude. Why would Jessica be pissed, unless she was also a little jealous? Warmth cascaded through his body. What did it signify?
“I won’t be made a fool of, Logan Wilde.”
“I’m not looking to make a fool of you. I enjoy your company and thought you enjoyed mine.”
“I do, but . . .” Her gaze scooted to the moss-covered bricks at their side, and she readjusted the books in her arms. “I don’t want you toying with me.”
“How so?” He tried to brush a lock of auburn hair off her forehead, but she jerked her head to the side.
“I don’t want to”—she took a quick glance over her shoulder toward the street and dropped her voice to a whisper—“hang out with you and then see you smoozing with someone else. I guess I’m old-fashioned like that.”
“So you don’t want me smoozing other women while we’re . . . hanging out?” He air-quoted her words back at her.
“Do you want to schmooze someone else?” She clutched the books to her chest. Vulnerability shone from her eyes. The question was like taking the safety off a gun.
“I’m not interested in schmoozing anyone else.” He wasn’t a hundred percent certain what he was agreeing to, but her entire body relaxed with his answer, her shoulders dropping and her hip popping out. “For as long as you’re here,” he added.
Tension filtered back into her body. “Since yours is the only job offer I’ve received, I guess I’ll stay until I find something else.”
She could have a job at a Fortune 500 company with a single phone call. “I’ll be glad to keep you on as long as you need.” Insinuation roughened his voice, and he herded her back against the wall. How did they seem to always end up in this position?
He dropped his face next to hers, his cheek almost skimming hers, waiting for her move. She shifted, nuzzling him with her nose. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. Citrusy, sweet, intoxicating. “So we’re officially hanging out now, are we? We can I schmooze you?”
“When we’re at Adaline’s things have to stay strictly business.” Her words were vague and breathless, and she’d rolled her head to the side in invitation. Her scent drew him closer, and he dropped his lips to where her hair curled around her ear.
“We’re not at Adaline’s,” he whispered before tugging her earlobe between his teeth. Her quick inhalation was like pouring lighter fluid on the fire he’d kept banked all night. “I swear to God if we weren’t in the middle of Falcon I’d schmooze you so hard against this wall, you wouldn’t remember your name.”
She dug her fingers into his biceps. Books bounced off his feet, cracking the spell she’d cast on him. He pushed off the wall, put a few inches between them, and took several deep breaths.
Chatter from passersby on the street penetrated the sexual tension cocooning them. She dropped into a squat to gather the books. He picked up a paperback that had bounced a few feet away. A romance novel. He didn’t voice his surprise. In fact, he’d come to expect twists and turns the more he learned about her.
He plucked two more books out of her arms. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Don’t you have a big game tonight?” They fell into step on the sidewalk.
“Yep. Dalt and I were headed to The Diner for a quick bite. Won’t have a chance to eat again until after the game. Are you coming tonight?”
She opened the passenger door of her Audi and tossed the books onto the seat. Her car was fixed, yet she hadn’t pointed it straight out of town. She had checked out library books. “I don’t know much about football, but I might as well come since I got the shirt.”
He was jealous of the falcon spread taut over her spectacular breasts. He had to clear his dry throat to get words out. “You look great.”
A blush bloomed, and she tucked the same piece of hair behind her ear several times even though it sprang free each time. In contrast, a smile curved her lips, and she glanced at him though her lashes like a practiced flirt.
Once she understood that she was the sexiest, most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, he would be toast. Not that he planned to spew such insanity aloud. He needed to maintain some amount of control and distance. She was worried about him toying with her? Well, he was worried she planned to annihilate him.
A whistle cut from across the street. He nudged his head. “Dalt’s waiting. I’d best be getting on. Come around to the pavilion after the game if you want. I’ll give you a lift home.”
“Maybe.”
Keeping his gaze on her, he jogged backward until she got into her Audi and drove off. He crossed the street to his best friend.
Laughter crinkled Dalt’s eyes. “Are your nuts intact?”
“Barely. I might strangle your wife.”
“She was trying to protect you.” He held up both hands. “Her words, not mine.”
They entered The Diner and flagged down a waitress to put in a to-go order for BLTs. Well-wishers and advice-givers mobbed them. Once back out on the street, Logan picked up the thread of their conversation. “Jessie and I have agreed we are ‘hanging out’ and I won’t ‘schmooze’ other women.” He air quoted twice and then added, “Whatever the hell that means.”
Rare laughter rumbled out of Dalt. “I think you agreed to date exclusively. Are you sleeping with her?”
“No.”
“But you want to.”
“Jesus, of course I do. She’s freaking gorgeous, and everything is in working order last I checked.”
Dalt hummed, the sound full of speculation.
“I hate it when you do that. What?”
“Why haven’t you put the moves on her already?”
“Who says I haven’t?”
Dalt sent him an answering incredulous look. “I’ve seen you in action, and I’ve never seen a woman resist your moves.”
Logan heaved a frustrated sigh. They entered the football pavilion. Everything was quiet; expectation vibrated in the air. It was the lull between the end of the school day but before the players poured into the locker room for the team meeting. Dalt led the way into his office, dropping into the rolling chair behind the desk. Logan cleared off a stack of graded calculus homework, plopped his sack down, and pulled up a straight-backed chair.
“It’s complicated. Last night, we had dinner without the Montgomery job offer murking the waters. I went and offered her a job at Adaline’s until she finds something better. And, today we agreed to hang out until she finds someone better.” Usually BLTs were Logan’s favorite, but the first bite was tasteless and unsatisfying.
“You think she’ll go looking for something bet
ter?”
“She could snap her fingers and have a job getting paid ten times what I can afford. I just hope she sticks around long enough for me to get her out of my system.”
“If all you wanted was to get her out of your system, you would have already begun the process and taken her to bed.” Dalt took a bite of his sandwich and studied him.
The two of them had survived two tours in Afghanistan together. Robbie Dalton was trustworthy and solid, and Logan had been ecstatic when Darcy had set her sights on him two years ago.
But the man’s silences could be torturous. Logan ran a hand down his face. “She’s tough as nails.”
“I sense a ‘but.’”
“But something underneath that kick-ass exterior makes me want to handle her with care.” It was as close an explanation as he could get without shining a light on his own vulnerability.
“How does she make you feel?” Dalt asked between bites.
“Are we seriously going to talk about my fucking feelings before our first game?”
“There’s more to life than football.” Dalt popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
The cacophony of teenagers echoing down the concrete hallways saved him. “Right now, football is all I want to think about. Let’s go kick ass.”
The next hours passed in a blink. Being in front of the hometown crowd fired a nervous energy in the boys that had to be harnessed. If not, mistakes would be made and the game lost. Logan huddled with the wide receivers and lectured them about ball security. He pulled out a whiteboard and went over plays the boys should know by heart but could be easily forgotten in the heat of battle. The reiteration seemed to settle their nerves.
Dalt clapped his clipboard against a metal beam and whistled. The team formed a semicircle around him. Logan stepped back and leaned against the door. Heated whispers drew him into the hallway. Scott and Hunter argued a few feet down the hall. Although it wasn’t a physical confrontation, animosity throbbed.
“You boys get your butts in here unless you want to run extra laps on Monday.” Logan’s voice carried down the empty corridor.
Both boys turned toward him. Scott looked ready to rip someone’s head off, while Hunter’s face reflected relief, and he was the first one to slip in the door. “Sorry, Coach Wilde,” he mumbled on his way to stand next to Alec Grayson.
Anger stiffened Scott’s gait. The boy had set a bench-press record that week, but worry and suspicion, not pride, beat at Logan.
He grabbed Scott’s shoulder pads and tugged him to a stop. “This is the second time I’ve caught you and Hunter in a set-to. Talk to me.”
While emotions always ran high before a game, the dynamic energy vibrating Scott’s body seemed darker. “Girl trouble.”
He shrugged Logan’s hand off and stood with the defensive line, shifting on his feet like a boxer before a bout. Maybe it was girl, maybe it wasn’t.
Dalt led the team out for warm-ups. The stadium lights lit the night like a beacon. The buzz of the crowd hummed over the staticky music on the loudspeakers. The first home football game of the season always took on a festival-like quality. The fact they had made the playoffs the last two years only added to the excitement.
The team would walk down the middle of the street bordered by cheering throngs of fans to the stadium. The adoration never failed to get the kids pumped up. Usually he reveled in the knotting tension before kickoff but not tonight. He tapped Alec Grayson on the arm. “Dude, I forgot something. Can you get the boys warmed up if I’m not out in time?”
“Sure thing.”
Logan ignored Alec’s puzzled frown and jogged back into the pavilion. An eerie pall had settled over the building, and his footsteps rang in the silence. The locker combinations were in Dalt’s filing cabinet. Logan retrieved the key from a magnetic holder under the desk and set Scott’s combination to memory, ignoring the niggling sense of wrongness. While Dalt was well within rights to search lockers, Logan didn’t have that authority.
Looking over his shoulder, he slipped back into the locker room and opened Scott’s locker, not even sure what he was looking for. The musty smell of adolescent sweat wafted out. Balled-up workout clothes were shoved on the topmost shelves. With the pads gone, the middle space was empty.
No picture of a girlfriend was taped inside. He poked around the bottom. Empty protein shakes, high-energy goo packets, and empty sport drink bottles. Toiletries were on one shelf, a set of clean clothes on another. He checked behind the clothes.
In the very back, Logan felt a cylindrical object. Carefully, he pulled it out. An empty syringe with no identifying prescription label. Prescription or not, any medication Scott took on a regular basis, even Advil, should be listed, but his record had been blank.
He opened his own locker and slipped the syringe into his duffle, not sure what his next move would be. He debated taking it straight to Dalt, but the program had barely survived a steroid scandal involving the head coach seven years previous.
People became accustomed to the high of winning fast. Anything less than making the playoffs for a third straight year would be considered a failure. With the kind of football fanatics Falcon produced, riding on a past season’s success did not exist. The last thing Dalt needed was a scandal hanging over him and the program.
Plus, Logan liked Scott. He was a good kid and a hard worker at the restaurant. His father Ben was president of the downtown bank, his mother Stephanie a philanthropic force in town. Logan couldn’t go off half-cocked and accuse Scott of doping. He needed absolute proof.
He headed to the field, avoiding the crowd. He wasn’t sure he could smile and accept the pats on the back and the encouragement with his usual easy smile. Once in the stadium and on the field, instead of watching Scott, he scanned the stands and locked on Jessica like a heat-seeking missile.
The stadium lights seemed to catch her on fire. As if sensing him, she turned and their eyes met. Too much space separated them. He wanted her next to him. Unlike the animated fans around her, she stood calm and composed in the chaos. She would help him dissect the problem, and for the first time, he wanted to lay his troubles bare.
13
The noise ebbed and flowed around Jessica like the breaking of waves. She fake smiled and nodded, but she was an outsider, even with Lilliana and the elderly librarians flanking her. Her neck heated, her body attuned to something outside of herself. Intuition had her turning toward the field, and her gaze collided with Logan’s.
She fought the sudden urge to leap over the metal railing and meet him at the fence. He wore a rare frown, and his hands were shoved into his pockets, his stance stiff.
Her heart accelerated. Wordless communication passed between them. Finally he turned, his attention returned to the game at hand. Something was troubling him. She couldn’t explain how she was so certain, but she was.
The teams moved to the sidelines and the band marched out, playing the school fight song through the introduction of the team captains and coaches. Everyone stood for the national anthem and the sonorous voice of a preacher giving a long-winded invocation.
Someone behind her yelled, “Tell old Higgs no one’s getting saved tonight.”
Laughter erupted around them as the preacher finished his amens. Jessica sat automatically, but no one else did, so she popped back up. The teams took their places on the field, the Falcons kicking off. Everyone in the crowd started a call and waved their hands high, building the noise and tension, until the ball whooshed into the air. After the other team’s player caught the ball and was tackled, everyone took their seats, the metal bleachers clanking.
As the game progressed, yells and groans and cheers erupted at regular intervals. Even the librarians joined in. Miss Esmerelda offered jeweled reading glasses to the nearest referee, and Miss Constance threatened bodily harm with her cane.
She tried to pay attention to the game, but when she didn’t understand the call or time lagged between plays (which was a lot,) she watched
Logan. He paced the sideline, clapping and patting players on the back or squatting to talk to them.
At halftime, Darcy took the empty seat Lilliana had left and offered Jessica a drink. With her legs sticking to the metal bench, she accepted the Coke.
“A peace offering.”
“What for?”
Darcy leaned closer even though the noise from the marching band would make it difficult for anyone to overhear. “For making you think Logan was a player. I didn’t mean to insinuate that at all. I was curious about you and him, and I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. I upset you.”
“You didn’t.” Jessica took a swig and picked at the waxy top of the cup.
Darcy made a scoffing sound. “You shot out of the library faster than a buck the first day of hunting season. Robbie said you looked ready to skin Logan alive.”
Jessica kept her gaze fixed on the band marching around the field. “We worked things out.”
“Good.” She patted Jessica on the knee before moving to sit with a gorgeous Black woman. The teams assembled once again on their respective sidelines, and Lilliana regained her seat as play resumed.
Jessica had a hard time paying attention, her thoughts fixed on Logan. A few plays later, the crowd gasped collectively.
“Butterfinger receivers,” Lilliana said in a groan and then slipped back into normal conversational tone. “What do you think of your first game experience?”
“It’s fun.” Jessica swept her gaze over the crowd. With a big smile, Marlene waved from a few rows back, her hair impeccable even in the humidity. A few seats down, Jeb the mechanic gave her a two-finger salute off his ball cap. Darcy caught her eye and gave her a smile. Jessica returned their greetings with little waves before turning back to watch the next play unfolded.
A Falcon player with the ball tucked under his arm scampered into the end zone. A touchdown. The crowd erupted, and Lilliana pulled Jessica to her feet. The energy of the crowd became infectious. She cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered. Breathless and grinning, she exchanged high-fives with strangers.
Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama Page 14