Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama

by Trentham, Laura

  Her normal fare of fundraisers and symphonies couldn’t compete with the game for sheer entertainment. Falcon won and the crowd was rambunctious as they filed out of the stadium. The team had disappeared, along with Logan.

  Lilliana grabbed her wrist and pulled her along, even though Jessica was several inches taller. Jessica pulled her to a stop at the bottom of the bleachers. “I’m going to wait for Logan over at the pavilion.”

  Lilliana winked and backed away. “I won’t wait up. Have fun.”

  Streams of people poured through the gates of the stadium, carrying Jessica down the street. She peeled off with a group of parents heading toward the pavilion. A few parking lot lights illuminated the gathering outside of the double doors. The chatter was vibrant and happy. The lady next to her struck up a conversation, superficial yet friendly, and instead of being condemned to the outskirts, the warm welcome had her laughing and relaxed.

  Players trickled out into hugs and slaps on the back. The crowd diminished, and the lady left her to hug a boy Jessica recognized as the young waiter who served her and Logan at Adaline’s.

  A dark mass of hair caught Jessica’s attention, and she weaved her way to Darcy. She raised a curious brow, but only said, “Robbie and Logan are usually the last ones out.”

  One of the boys sent two thumbs up in their direction. “I got an A, Miss Darcy.”

  “Way to go, Tommy!” In a softer voice, Darcy added, “I help the rising seniors every summer with their book report on To Kill a Mockingbird.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  Darcy’s smile was bemused and faraway. “It was one of my grandmother’s favorites. Only seems fitting. Here they come.”

  Darcy moved forward to greet her husband, who dropped his duffle, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her off the ground for a long kiss. They moved in tandem toward the parking lot.

  Logan moved toward her like a man on a mission. His hair was damp from a shower, and he’d changed into jeans and a button-down. Her new Falcon T-shirt stuck to her back, and the hair at her nape was damp from the muggy night.

  He walked over, and without a word or hesitation, he pulled her close and curled himself around her with a long exhale, his face in her hair. A seriousness shrouded him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  Everything inside of her was attuned to him. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

  Pulling back, he stared at her. She put on her boardroom “I get what I want” face. He made a scoffing sound and steered them toward his truck.

  He didn’t speak until they were in the cab with the engine rumbling. His hands gripped the steering wheel, but he didn’t shift the truck into reverse. “I discovered something in one of my kid’s lockers tonight. Something that could potentially get him kicked off the team.”

  “Pot?”

  “An empty syringe. Possibly some sort of PED.”

  “Like a steroid?” The image of a hairy, East German woman sprang to mind.

  “The hot drug right now is synthetic human growth hormone, HgH.”

  “Is it illegal, like meth?”

  “It’s banned. PEDs can be damaging. Especially for someone who hasn’t finished their natural growth cycle yet.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know much about athletics.”

  “No, but you’re smart, and I value your opinion. I like the kid. I know his family. The fallout could affect people I care about. I have no perspective on the situation.”

  She was used to men trying to knock her down a peg. Tamping down the urge to kiss him on the cheek, she took a deep breath. “Could it be something innocuous like allergy medication or Vitamin B?”

  “A slim chance.”

  “What happens if you take this to Coach Dalton?”

  “Scott would be suspended, pending an investigation.” He rested his head against the seatback and closed his eyes. “Seven years ago, Falcon’s head coach was sent to prison for supplying kids with PEDs. I’m worried suspicion will fall on Dalt. This kid has a shot at a college football scholarship. If I come forward, I blow that chance to smithereens. Even if he’s cleared, the rumors would blackball him with the scouts.”

  “Maybe he’s only got a chance at a scholarship because he’s taking PEDs, which is cheating, right? Twenty years from now, what price will he be paying for this foolishness? He may be too immature to understand the damage he’s inflicting on his body.”

  “You’re right. But I should give him chance to come forward, do the right thing.” He hit the steering wheel with a fist. “How’d he get the drugs?”

  She picked at a cuticle, knowing he wouldn’t like her question. “You want the perspective of an outsider, right? What about Dalt? Does he have a win-at-all-costs mentality?”

  “Hell no,” he said emphatically. He shifted around and pointed at her. “Not him. Trust me on that.”

  She hesitated, staring into his intense brown eyes, and nodded. “Okay, not Dalt. One of the other coaches, then?”

  “Hal Perkins, maybe. He was here when the last scandal rocked the team, but he was cleared.”

  “People lie all the time,” she whispered. The knowledge she held close about his father burned her conscience.

  “Not everyone.” His soft reply tightened like a vise around her heart, secure yet uncomfortable. The night settled over them. He threw the truck in reverse and headed out of the parking lot. “I have to close up Adaline’s. Friday nights after a win can get wild. You want to come with me? You can start on my invoices or hang out at the bar. Whatever.”

  A shower could wait. “Sure. I can see what I’m facing Monday morning.”

  Tension seeped out of him, and when he turned on Main Street, his customary smile was back. Adaline’s parking lot was full, and people crowded around the front door. He took her hand and pulled her through the gauntlet, shaking hands and fist-bumping people along the way.

  They left the chaos of the restaurant floor for the quiet of the back hallway, and she went straight for his spartan office, waving him back toward the kitchens. “Go on, you don’t need to babysit me. Do your work, and I’ll do mine.”

  Instead of walking away, he closed the distance between them, wrapped a hand loosely around the front of her neck, and kissed her. A soft, lingering kiss. Her eyes closed, and she rose on the balls of her feet. He pulled her bottom lip between his, running his tongue along the length. Her pulse jumped against his palm. Could he feel the effect he had on her?

  He broke the kiss and backed down the corridor. With his hand on the kitchen door, their gazes held. A host of promises pinged between them. He pushed through the door, a burst of noise reverberating to her until the door swung shut.

  Dropping into his chair behind the desk, she familiarized herself with his file naming system and organization. Or lack thereof. She didn’t find any blatant errors, but his diligence came in spurts, and he was woefully behind.

  Even though the work was simple and mundane, she found herself humming while she worked. She’d once found similar joy in her job at Montgomery Industries. Everything had changed when she moved into the executive tier. Her coworkers had been adversaries, and her father pitted his favorites against each other like gladiators. Away from the toxicity, she was slowly gaining a new perspective. Becoming Montgomery Industries CFO might have brought her satisfaction but not happiness.

  Jessica checked her math. Adaline’s made a fair amount more than expenses each month. Not a fortune, but the growing excess was sitting in a low-yield account at the bank. Possibilities had her twirling a pen in her fingers, an old trick that helped her concentrate.

  * * *

  He propped himself in the doorway of his office, studying her. Damn, she looked sexy behind his desk, a little crinkle between her eyes, her body language oozing total confidence. Papers were neatly organized into stacks, and a spreadsheet was
open on his computer. “You sure know how to make yourself at home.”

  She startled, the pen she twirled flying across the desk to skitter across the floor. Her hand rose to play at the short hair at her neck, her confidence taking on a dynamic tension. “You gain comfort from trees and wild bunnies; I gain comfort from invoices and spreadsheets.”

  “Like I always say, there’s all kind of weird in the world.” He found a shadow of his easygoing teasing manner in her company, but the day had damaged his usually positive outlook.

  “Everything going okay out there?”

  “All closed up. You ready to head out?”

  She shut down the computer and hiked her purse strap over her shoulder. Fluorescent lights led them to the heavy metal back door. The night air had cooled enough to be refreshing after his time on the floor of the restaurant. The back of the restaurant abutted a wall of twenty-foot evergreens giving the passage an alleylike feel.

  He turned to padlock the back door keeping her in his peripheral vision while she walked ahead. An odd-shaped shadow moved at the edge of the Dumpster and materialized into a man. Adrenaline sped through his body, his overriding instinct to protect Jessica.

  Before he made it to her, she said, “Hi, there. It’s Scott, isn’t it? I met your mother tonight after the game. Congrats on the win.”

  Logan pushed her behind him, too roughly to be polite. Scott ignored her, leaving no doubt the menace in his voice was for Logan. “Where is it? I know it was you.”

  A warning zinged up his spine. Logan pushed Jessica farther back, praying she’d get the hint to stay the hell out of the way.

  “What was in it?”

  “Saline,” Scott said shortly. He was as tall and even brawnier than Logan, but he was still a kid, a stupid kid.

  “Don’t lie to me.” Logan couldn’t stop the frustration from biting his words.

  “You’re the liar. What’s your mantra? Put in the work and you can accomplish anything. That’s bullshit.”

  “Scott, I’m going to give you a chance to tell me the truth, get clean, otherwise, I’ll have to take this to Coach Dalton and things will get ugly.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Chaos erupted. Scott grabbed Logan’s collar and pulled him forward. Logan chopped his forearm down on Scott’s, breaking the boy’s hold. Scott threw a punch, but Logan dipped, and Scott’s hammy fist only glanced off his shoulder, sending a numbing wave down his arm.

  Logan dodged another jab, staying on the defensive. Scott was big, but he was fighting like a third-grader, flailing his arms with no real intent. A former Army Ranger, Logan was trained in hand-to-hand combat. His only worry was how to end the fight without hurting Scott.

  Scott grunted or cursed with every punch attempted. He landed a couple of punches on Logan’s torso that would bruise later. Finally, Logan sensed an opening. Scott heaved forward in a tackling-style bear hug, but with a neat flip over his leg, Logan had Scott on his belly, his face squished onto pebbled asphalt, his arm twisted behind him. Scott squirmed under the knee he had planted in the middle of his back.

  “Settle down. I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan said.

  Scott stopped moving, and Logan rose to a semi-crouch. Scott pushed himself up and ran the heel of his hand across his cheek, dislodging stuck pebbles. He’d gone from menacing bully to a kid on the verge of tears. Logan reached out to take his arm, but Scott turned and ran, his footsteps fading quickly.

  Jessica grabbed Logan’s arm and spun him toward the weak light coming from the parking lot. Her fingers trembled as she inspected his face, neck, and shoulders.

  Off in the distance, tires squealed, and Logan heaved a sigh. “I guess that answers the question of his guilt.”

  “Are you okay? He got some good hits in.”

  One side of his mouth drew back in a strained smirk-smile. “Please. I was more worried about pulling a muscle.”

  She narrowed her eyes, not taking the bait. “Are you going to go to the police?”

  “Not unless I have to. I’ll go to Dalt first. Damn, I didn’t want to pull him into this mess.”

  She threaded her fingers through his. “He’s your friend.”

  “Yeah, but this will cast a pall over the season, the team, and the head coach.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll be fine.”

  She shook her head as if she didn’t quite believe him, but the tight line of her mouth relaxed. He threw an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her close as they walked toward his truck.

  They didn’t talk on the short drive to Lilliana’s. He turned the truck off but made no move to get out. Neither did she. Instead, they turned toward each other, still in-sync, their fingers twining. He dropped a kiss on her temple. “I don’t suppose you’d let me schmooze you a little?”

  “Here? You could come in. We are adults. I don’t even see Lillian’s SUV.”

  “I would never hear the end of the teasing if she walked in a caught us.” He circled his hands around her waist, and her breathing turned shallow. “Anyway, that walk inside would take forever, and I’ve been dying to kiss you again. Dying, baby.”

  “Can you die from sexual frustration?” she teased.

  “I don’t know, but I heard-tell you can go blind from too much masturbating. Thanks to you, I already need glasses.”

  “Logan, you are so bad.” Her laugh was one of scandalized amusement.

  He hummed and nuzzled under her ear. Goose bumps broke over her arms. He slipped his hands up her ribcage until his fingers brushed the full underside of her breasts. She squirmed and arched toward him. Satisfaction twisted his guts. She was as hot for him as he was for her.

  “What do you want?” He hoped she didn’t recognize the thread of desperation in his voice. While the context was sexual, what he really wanted to know was where their flirtation was headed.

  “I want”—her eyes closed, and she inhaled slow and deep—“a kiss.”

  “That’s all?” Again, he was after more than a sexual answer.

  She kept her eyes closed, her answer vague and dreamy. “Right now, it’s all I can think of.”

  He’d never had to broach the subject of getting serious with a woman. Either the woman brought it up, sending him backpedaling, or they were both in it for fun. He had no idea where he stood with Jessica. The only thing he was sure of right now was that she was in his truck and wanted a kiss.

  His lips touched hers with a promise he couldn’t put into words. He would be patient. If things stayed uncertain, then he would enjoy her in any way he could, but he’d lay in wait for a signal she wanted more than sex.

  The kiss deepened naturally, and she slid her arms around his neck, a soft needy noise coming from her throat. “Touch me.”

  He smiled against her lips, thoroughly enjoying when her assertive nature edged into their private moments. Would her passion or her logic dominate in bed?

  He cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple. It came to attention beneath the layers of fabric.

  “Let’s take this inside.” She skimmed her lips along his jaw and nipped at his earlobe. Pleasure suffused his body. Yet, he hesitated.

  Was the bedroom the final destination or a pit stop? He definitely got the irony of the situation. He was worried she wanted only sex, and if he gave her what she wanted, would she lose interest. For the first time, this wasn’t fun and games for him. It felt more like life or death.

  Headlights flashing through the cab saved him from choosing between the call of his heart or his body. “We’d better make it another time and place, darlin’”

  She looked out the back of the cab. “It’s Lilliana. I guess I’ll see you at Adaline’s?”

  She scooted away, but he grabbed her wrist and leaned in for one last too-brief kiss. He watched Jessica and Lilliana walk into the house together, his body screaming in frustration and his heart cramping with longing.

  14

  Logan paused in the door
way of Dalt’s office. Scott and Ben Larkin occupied two chairs, side by side, facing Dalt’s desk. The back of their heads looked identical, ashy-brown hair trailed to thick necks that fed into Falcon-blue polos. Scott fidgeted while his father sat stock-still.

  Logan had been on the wrong end of the law enough in his youth to get an instinctive shot of adrenaline seeing a police officer present for the meeting. Things had escalated. Rick Jackson, in police blues with his sidearm present, sat next to Falcon High’s principal, who crossed and uncrossed his arms in a nervous, OCD-like rhythm. Sitting catty-corner to the desk, Rick didn’t offer Logan a greeting beyond a subtle lift of his chin.

  The tension in the office was as thick as a July summer day, oppressive and stifling. A poison needed excising. Even though Logan had instigated the meeting, he felt strangely outnumbered and vulnerable.

  From the hallway behind him, Dalt clapped Logan on the shoulder, making him flinch, and pushed him forward into the room. Logan made his way around the desk to prop a shoulder against a whiteboard covered in Xs and Os.

  Dalt, with a grim, focused expression Logan had seen too many times in Afghanistan, dropped into the seat behind his desk, leaned forward, and swept his gaze around the room. “Let’s get this business over with.”

  Principal Hammond wiped his forehead with an old-fashioned white handkerchief before tucking it back into the inside of his blazer. His foot bounced, jingling the change in his pocket.

  “I concur.” Ben Larkin raised a hand as if Dalt had put the issue to a vote. “College recruiters have been sending material to the house. The questions need to be buried.”

  Dalt leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “The questions need to be answered, Ben, not buried. I run a clean program. Drug violations will not be tolerated.”

  Ben Larkin’s mask of bravado fell. Lines creased his forehead and bracketed his mouth. He crossed his ankle over his knee, pushing out his slight potbelly. Suddenly instead of looking more like Scott’s older brother, Ben looked exactly what he was, an aging former athlete who had spent the last twenty years behind a desk.