Down By Contact - SR Grey

by Grey, S. R.

  I make a mental note to buy both of those items, plus some other things Morgan might need—things like an oven mitt, dish towels, and a bath towel.

  I’m sure I’ll think of more things as time goes by, and she can let me know other stuff she desires.

  Setting my fork down and taking a quick sip of water, I finally answer her question. “Practice was good. We have a quarterback who’s in town for a tryout. I think the Comets are going to sign him. He’s been fantastic this week.”

  “That’s good,” Morgan says. “So what’s next? Training camp?”

  “Yeah, soon.” I nod. “Camp starts not this upcoming Monday but the next.”

  She raises a brow. “So you have more practices next week?”

  “No. We actually have some time off before we go away.”

  Softly, she murmurs, “Ah, that’s nice.”

  It is. And I don’t say it out loud, but I’m already planning on spending even more time out here at the house. Not just to keep an eye on progress, like always, but to hang out with Morgan.

  I like her.

  She’s an interesting person.

  And so damn pretty.

  Maybe we’ll eat more dinners together, or even a lunch. She doesn’t have to always cook, though. I can do that, or even just grab us some takeout.

  I let Morgan know all this, then add, “Is there something you’ve been in the mood for lately?”

  She laughs. “You mean besides just about everything?”

  I wince. “Crap, I forgot you’ve been subsisting on crackers and chips.”

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Aw, don’t worry about it. I’m in good shape now…thanks to you.”

  She smiles demurely from under her lashes, and my heart skips a beat. She’s such a natural beauty. But more importantly, she’s sweet. That fucking touches me.

  We sit in silence for a minute or two, just enjoying our food, until Morgan says out of the blue, “Pizza.”

  I stop twirling my spaghetti. “Huh?”

  Chuckling, she says, “You asked what I’ve been craving. And out of everything, it’s hands down been pizza.”

  Now I get it.

  “Ahh.” I resume my twirling. “Then I should pick us up a pizza. What about tomorrow for dinner? What do you think?”

  I’m hoping she says yes.

  And she does, telling me, “I’d like that.”

  Whoa, that was easy.

  “What kind of pizza do you prefer?” I ask. “Do you like deep dish, traditional, or Sicilian style?”

  “Hmmm…” She taps her chin. “I like all those.”

  “Should I surprise you, then?”

  After a beat of contemplation, she tells me, “Yes.”

  We fall into a discussion then of what we should have on our pizza, and though we both like a variety of toppings, we decide to stick with a tried and true classic—extra cheese and pepperoni.

  “We’re so simple,” Morgan teases.

  I play along, shrugging. “I think we both just see no need to complicate things.”

  She blows out a breath, murmuring an “Absolutely” that’s laden with more meaning than just keeping our pizza simple.

  I imagine it’s been tough for her, living scared of her ex for more than a year.

  And now he’s in town, throwing her life into shambles. She had a job and an apartment, but here she is stuck living in some stranger’s not-even-finished house.

  I hope our spending time together puts her at ease. I’d like to be her friend. Lord knows she needs someone by her side.

  That leads me to ask, “Morgan, do you have any family?”

  Her face falls, and I instantly feel bad for bringing it up.

  “You don’t have to answer,” I say quickly.

  “No, no, it’s okay.” She pushes her plate away and leans back, crossing her arms and making her loose navy blue tee tighten over her chest. “I have no siblings, and my dad left when I was, like, three. So that was it with him. My mom was okay for a while, meaning she did make a somewhat halfhearted attempt to raise me. But once she met a guy who stuck around for longer than a few months, she pushed me to the side. I ran away when I was sixteen.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah—” She lifts her glass of water and takes a small sip. “—I know.”

  “So what happened next?” I dare to ask.

  “I actually got on my feet. I met a girl who became a really great friend. Her name is Mary. Her family let me move in with them, and I even went back to high school. I graduated too. But then I went out on my own. My life was pretty much just working and getting by.”

  “Sounds like things were working out, though,” I interject.

  “Yeah, they were. And it was good for a while. My life was kind of…normal.”

  “So what happened?”

  Rolling her eyes, she says, “I met Neil.”

  I’m pretty sure I know the answer, as I recall her saying that name the night I found her.

  Still, I confirm, “He’s your ex, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nods. “It was about three years ago that we first crossed paths. I was twenty-one and thought he was smart, funny, and a bad boy. But at the time I believed he was a bad boy with a good side. I was stupid ever thinking that. We only dated briefly before we got married at the local courthouse. Nothing fancy, but Mary did come to support me. She never liked Neil, but she tried to be happy for me. Not long after, he moved us from Jacksonville to Tampa, and I kind of lost touch with her. Neil demanded all of my attention all the time. He was still smart but no longer funny. And the bad boy part was for real. He was just plain mean. His last name is Swain, and he used to say, ‘You mess with Swain, you get the pain.’”

  “God, Morgan.”

  “I know, right?” She looks sad as hell as she adds, “That was one of the nicer things he said to me.”

  I can see she’s getting upset, so I tell her, “You don’t have to go on.”

  “No, no.” She shakes her head. “You have a right to know. You’re putting a lot of trust in me by letting me stay here. The least I can do is tell you my story.”

  I just murmur a soft “Okay.”

  “So, anyway…” She sighs heavily. “It got pretty bad, and I filed for divorce. But even after it was final, Neil wouldn’t leave me be. When I felt I was in literal fear for my life, I ran.”

  “And you ended up here.”

  It’s a statement, not a question, as I know this part.

  “I had no other options but to take off,” she explains. “Mom wasn’t about to help, and I didn’t want to drag poor Mary into my mess. It’d been a year since we’d last talked anyway. I don’t know, maybe someday I’ll look her up, when she won’t be in danger from my ex.”

  Shocked, I ask, “You think he’d hurt her?”

  Morgan replies sadly, “I wouldn’t put anything past that man.”

  Damn, this is even more serious than I thought.

  With full sincerity, I tell Morgan, “I’m glad you’re staying in this house.”

  It’s true.

  I can’t imagine her out there on her own.

  I can keep her safe, especially if I’m around, which I plan to be—a lot.

  Pizza Night

  I was right—the new bed is heaven.

  No, wait, it’s beyond that.

  It’s pure nirvana.

  After Zane and I ate dinner last night, he helped me load the dishwasher. He then looked around at the progress the workers had made. Before he left, he reminded me that he had an early morning practice, though I got the feeling he was trying not to hover and be all up in my space.

  I wouldn’t have minded.

  Zane Tinsbury can be up in my space anytime.

  But he probably doesn’t want to.

  That’s why I shouldn’t let my mind wander into that territory.

  And now is definitely not the time to be thinking those thoughts, as I hear him coming in.

  I plan to continue to kee
p my attraction to him under wraps. I mean, come on, like I’d even have a chance with a man like him. He’s not only hot and sexy, he’s super successful.

  And I…am not.

  Yeah, I need to keep my emotions in check. Fantasies are fine, but I have to keep them compartmentalized.

  I try to put on a happy face when Zane strides into the kitchen, pizza box held aloft, even though I’m feeling a little down now.

  “Hey.” I wave from my perch on the stool at the island.

  I’m in jean shorts and a sleeveless button-down yellow blouse.

  It’s funny ’cause I totally catch him checking me out.

  Since he licks his lips, I assume he likes what he sees.

  That’s okay. I like the way he looks today too, all sporty and casual in long khaki shorts and a black tech tee.

  He clears his throat, and my eyes snap up to meet his.

  He gives me a knowing look and then a crooked smile.

  I just smile back.

  Damn, he’s hot.

  So much for keeping my emotions in check. I’ve totally just been busted.

  Gesturing wildly to the pizza in Zane’s hand and the paper plates and pile of napkins on top of the box, I say, “Ah, cool. I see you remembered the napkins.”

  It’s a good diversion, and it works.

  “Yes.” He sets the pizza on the island, and mmm, it smells great. “I asked for paper plates too,” he goes on. “This way we don’t have to bother with loading the dishwasher or hand washing. Speaking of which…” He jerks his thumb to the front of the house, where I assume his vehicle is parked. “I stopped and bought a bunch of additional supplies I thought you might need, including dishwashing liquid. The bags are out in the SUV. We can bring them in later.”

  I’m amazed at how Zane has everything covered, and I reply, “Wow, great. Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. So…” He starts to open the pizza box, but then pauses. “Are you ready to see which style I got us?”

  Nodding enthusiastically, I reply, “Yeah. Let’s see.”

  He lifts the lid on the box dramatically, and after I take a peek inside, I exclaim, “Oooh, deep dish. An excellent choice.”

  “I thought so too,” he agrees, laughing.

  We dig in, and I end up matching Zane slice for slice. I’m still clearly ravenous for all this real food.

  “You were right,” I tell him at one point, wrapping gooey cheese around the chunky tip of a slice. “This pizza is fantastic.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Morgan,” he murmurs softly.

  After we polish off the entire pie, we head out to the SUV to retrieve the additional supplies he bought.

  There’s not only dishwashing liquid, there’s also a big package of paper towels, more napkins, an oven mitt and pot holders, dish towels, bath towels, a strainer—I had to use the lid to carefully drain the spaghetti yesterday—and a bunch of other stuff.

  “Damn, you thought of everything,” I remark as we unload the bags from the Escalade and take them into the kitchen.

  “I tried,” Zane says, setting a bag on the counter. “But again, let me know if you need anything and I’ll pick it up.”

  “Okay.”

  I guess I look a little down, since Zane asks, “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just that…” I want to be honest, so I confess, “I wish I could go out and help you get these things.”

  Zane runs a hand down his face. “Morgan, you’re not a prisoner here. You’re welcome to join me anytime you want.”

  “I would,” I say. “And trust me, I want to, more than you could even imagine. But I can’t. Not yet. It’s just too soon. I doubt Neil has left town, I really do. And with my luck, he’d see me while I was out.”

  “Okay, fair point.” Zane nods once. “But it’s not good for you to stay inside all the time. If and when you change your mind, just let me know.”

  “I will,” I assure him. And then, leaning on the counter opposite him, I add, “You’re right about it not being good for me to stay inside all the time. I actually have an idea on how to fix that.”

  Zane looks curious as he asks, “How’s that?”

  I can hardly contain my smile when I blurt out, “I’ve been dying to take a walk through the woods around here. Would you be up for joining me?”

  “I sure would,” he replies immediately, a big grin of his own breaking out. “In fact, how about we do that right now?”

  An Evening Walk

  When I suggest we take that walk Morgan wants to go on in the woods around my house right the hell now, she starts beaming.

  Wow, she’s beautiful.

  “Yes,” she says excitedly. “I’d really like that.”

  I bet she can’t wait to get out of here.

  It must suck not being able to leave.

  My heart goes out to her.

  Why do I suddenly want to grab her up in a big warm hug?

  I glance at her full lips.

  What would it be like to gently brush over them with mine?

  Damn, it’s official—I am seriously crushing on this chick.

  Who the hell cares?

  Like I decided before, I’m rolling with this and letting whatever it is develop.

  Still, I’ll let her set the pace.

  She’s been through a lot, and I don’t want to misjudge the situation and make things weird for both of us.

  I think she’s attracted to me. I mean, I’ve caught her checking me out numerous times just today. But I don’t want to push anything. The dynamic between us is already unbalanced with her staying in my house. I don’t want to give her the impression I expect something from her in return.

  I’d fucking never do that.

  So that means Morgan’s going to have to give me one hell of a big hint—like pretty much jumping my bones—if she ever wants more.

  Wait. I’m getting way ahead of myself.

  We’re only a couple of days into this.

  Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I say, “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

  I quickly check Morgan’s feet, as she’s often barefoot, but today she has on running shoes and ankle socks.

  She’s set.

  When we step outside, the first thing she does is stop and breathe in the warm evening air. “Oh my God, this is so much better than catching a breeze through the window.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. “I bet it is.”

  She’s so adorable.

  I like how the littlest things make her happy.

  I suggest we cross through the side yard to reach one of the paths that lead into the forest, and she says, “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

  Everything is so green and lush around us, as it’s early August, the height of summer in Ohio.

  “Maybe I should have bought some bug spray on my shopping trip today,” I remark as we reach the trail.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t,” Morgan says, smiling over at me. “I think you bought just about everything else. But don’t worry.” She shrugs. “The bugs don’t seem bad tonight.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “They don’t. Lucky for us.”

  It’s actually a perfect evening for a stroll in the woods. The air is warm, but the humidity is low. And it’s so peaceful. There’s a chorus of crickets chirping in the background and frogs singing down by the creek.

  “So…” Morgan glances over at me as we meander down the trail. “I told you a lot about me yesterday, but I know hardly anything about you.”

  “You know I play football,” I say, quirking a brow.

  She pushes my shoulder. “That’s not what I mean. I want to know about your life before and outside of football.”

  “Morgan.” I shoot her a serious look, even though I’m teasing. Well, kind of. “My life is football. And it always has been.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Okay, okay. I mean besides football, then. Like, where are you from?”

  I quit joking around and answer her question. “I gr
ew up in western Pennsylvania. I guess you could say I led a pretty ordinary life. My parents, my brother, and I all lived in the suburbs. My parents still live in the same house.”

  Wistfully, she says, “That sounds nice.”

  “It was, and it is.”

  She then asks, “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I came close once right after college. But that fell apart.”

  “Hmm…” She peers over at me curiously. “And there’s no girlfriend now?”

  I smile. “No, not a one.”

  “Huh. That’s, uh, interesting.”

  “It is,” I concur.

  We can’t even look at each other now. When I finally do steal a sidelong glance, I catch her grinning.

  Yeah, there is definitely something brewing between us.

  But again, I will not make the first move.

  We continue our walk, the moment of awkwardness melting away and our easy conversation resuming.

  We don’t talk about anything major, mostly just commentary on how the house is coming along nicely and how much she loves the new bed.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say.

  “It’s so perfect, Zane,” she gushes.

  “Better than the floor, huh?”

  Chuffing, Morgan says, “Much.”

  I’d like to stay out in the woods with her a whole lot longer, but it’s getting dark. I don’t want her to trip and fall over a root on the trail. Hell, I don’t want to do that either.

  So, clearing my throat, I say, “We should probably start back to the house.”

  “Yeah.” She nods. As we turn to retrace our steps, she asks, “Do you have practice tomorrow?”

  “I do.” We start walking back, albeit at a more leisurely pace. “We practice every day this week.”

  Morgan kicks a stone down the trail. “That’s right. You did mention that. But you’re off next week, right?”

  “I am. I have the whole week to chill before training camp.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “It is, and…” I’m hesitant to say what’s on my mind, but I just blurt it out anyway. “I’ll be able to stay later on my visits out here.”

  She doesn’t reply at first, and I worry I’ve overstepped my bounds.