Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  A spark of interest kindled inside me. "Really? You think that she might have some insight?"

  "Maybe. How much do you know about the time Quinn spent in San Francisco last year?"

  I cast my mind back. "Well, I knew that she’d gone out there after—" I winced slightly. "You know, after everything with Nate."

  Zelda rolled her eyes. "Yes, that whole mess was a shit storm." She shook her head. "It was like watching an accident in slow-motion. We couldn't do anything about it, and even though everyone knew who the casualties would be, there wasn't much we could say to stop it from happening."

  "I saw the beginning of that, uh, shit storm in high school when we were all together." I thought about Nate and the little bit I'd known him—just in passing, really, as one of Leo’s old friends. By the time we’d been dating, it seemed that something had come between the two boys. Later I found it was someone, not something. "I think Quinn felt like the rope in an unending game of tug-of-war between the two of them. She knew which way she wanted to go, but there was just something about Nate, something that made her unable to say no, I guess."

  Zelda snorted. “Quinn had a soft spot for Nate, and he exploited that. Don't get me wrong—I don't like to speak badly of someone who's died. Particularly someone who's died as young and as hard as Nate did. I'm very sorry about what happened with him. But I don't know that I'll ever be able to forgive him for what he did to Quinn. If Quinn and Leo weren't getting married now, it would certainly be a lot harder to look past it.”

  Our waitress arrived back at our tableside, holding a tray laden with plates. “Okay. Here we are—and I hope you’re both hungry, because Simon kind of went nuts.” She began setting down the dishes, whipping silver covers off each one. “He told me that this is a sharing meal. Eat it family-style. And he also told me to tell you that if you don’t clean your plates, he’ll be out here to find out why.”

  I laughed, my mouth watering as the delicious aromas reached my nose. “We’ll do our best. Thanks.”

  Zelda and I dug in, both of us hungry and eager to try the goodies in front of us. After a few moments of silence, she glanced up at me.

  “Sorry to be such a downer, talking about Nate that way. Quinn tells me that it was all part of the journey. She says that she and Leo are working through it together. If that's true, then I guess it’s all good. But I still hate that they had to live through it." Zelda made a face. "I don't know whether you know it or not, but Eli—my boyfriend—was Nate's roommate all during college. He still has a soft spot for him. Consequently, I kind of tend to keep all of my feelings about Nate to myself when I’m at home. I'm sorry if I unloaded on you."

  "No, I think we're on the same page here," I assured her. “It's a shame we didn't know each other when we were all in college. Maybe we could've worked together to make sure that Nate and Quinn didn't end up getting married." I thought back to that summer after graduation, to the Fourth of July, when I'd driven home from Washington with Leo to spend the holiday with my family. "I can’t imagine what Quinn went through during that time, though. I saw her right after they got married. Before she and Nate moved down the shore. She looked really rough, and it about broke my heart."

  "Don't get me started on this.” Zelda shook her head. "I'm just now getting to a point where it doesn't make me furious anymore.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out, rolling back her shoulders at the same time. “Sorry. I got off-topic there, when what I wanted to ask was if Quinn had ever mentioned Kara and Allan Crocker to you.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “Are they the couple she worked for in California? The ones who wrote the book about their son—and they own a chain of restaurants?”

  “That’s them,” Zelda confirmed. “I met both Kara and Allan when I went to San Francisco to visit Quinn last year. They’re amazing people—and for some reason, their names popped into my head when you were talking about wanting a change.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if anything would come of it, but they know a ton of people—it might be possible for them to link you with a job that could be more . . . fulfilling.”

  A spark of excitement stirred in me. “That’s a great idea. I’ll see if I can ask Quinn this weekend about an introduction—if she’s not too overwhelmed with the party and the guests. Worst case, I can call her next week.”

  “Good thinking—although from what she told me, Quinn isn’t doing much of the party planning and work herself. Ellie Iverson is handling it, I think—she’s married to one of the other Richmond Rebels, and she’s sort of taken Quinn under her wing.” Zelda sat back in her seat and regarded me, her expression tinged with amusement and curiosity. “Which reminds me—a few minutes ago, you said that there wasn't a relationship in your past who you regretted losing. But are you involved with anyone right now? Because I hear from our mutual friends that there are going to be a lot of eligible and hunky football players at this engagement party."

  "Not for me." I held up both hands. "I have a firm no dating of athletes rule. I've had that policy in place since high school. I'm not really looking for a long-term commitment right now anyway, but trust me, even if I were, you could have a room full of Sports Illustrated cover models for the football player of the year, and I wouldn't be tempted. I tend toward the intellectual brainy types these days."

  "Wow. Okay, then." Zelda laughed. "I think you can be relatively sure that you won't find many of those types at this party. Between Quinn's work in sports media and Leo's friends almost all being football players, the guests are sure to be more brawny than brainy. But you know, I do have a couple of people who work with me who might…"

  "I appreciate that, but I'm not really looking.” I kept my tone firm. "I'm happy for Quinn and Leo. I'm happy for you, too, because it seems like you found something that you were looking for. But as for me, I'm not sure that I'm cut out for long-term or marriage or any of that. I think I might be more of a lone wolf. I’ll be the auntie who spoils all of Quinn and Leo's kiddos. You know, the type who flies into town, takes them to do all the things Mom and Dad won't allow, and then leaves before she has to deal with any of the repercussions."

  “Nice plan!” Zelda set down her fork and lifted her napkin to her lips. “Good luck with that.”

  I finished chewing the bite of pasta I’d just tasted. “You’re not going to tell me that the right guy will come along when I least expect him?”

  “Ha! No, not me.” She reached over to nab a stuffed mushroom and pop it into her mouth. Once she’d swallowed, Zelda added, “Your love life is your business. Not everyone needs or wants a partner for life. I wouldn’t presume to think I know better.”

  "Thank you." I hesitated a beat. “I know Quinn and Leo believe there’s someone for everyone, and they’ve tried to play matchmaker more often than I like. I’m pretty sure they have a couple of potential dates coming to the party this weekend. But I think I'm going keep my blinders on and focus on figuring out where I want to be. And who I want to be. And how I'm going to make an impact."

  Zelda lifted up her water glass. “Well." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Then let's toast to that. To a life that makes an impact. To a life that's well lived.”

  I raised my own glass. “And to friends, both old and new.”

  “Absolutely." Zelda clinked her drink to mine. “Now, tell me . . . now that he’s impressed us with this spectacular meal, do you think there’s any chance your chef friend would accept the challenge to dazzle us with dessert? I’m not sure I can eat much more, but I have to admit, I’m tempted by the idea of chocolate right now.”

  Easing back my chair, I grinned in agreement. “I knew I liked you. I’m totally down for something sweet. Let’s see if Simon’s up for it.”

  “Perfect.” Zelda leaned down to take her cell from her handbag. “Do you mind if I text Eli? I’m picking him up at the train station so we can drive down to Richmond together tonight, and I want to check on his arrival time.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  As
I craned my neck to find our server, I didn’t miss the way Zelda’s eyes went soft and mushy as she read whatever it was her boyfriend had texted . . . or the way her fingers touched that silver bracelet again. And although I’d been completely honest with her before—I wasn’t looking for love or happy endings—a strange sort of envy wrapped itself around my heart.

  Being free and unattached was what I wanted . . . but that didn’t stop me from wondering if I truly understood what I was missing.

  3

  Gideon

  “Gideon, come over here and settle an argument.”

  I turned from the buffet, where I’d been half-heartedly filling my plate with appetizers when my teammate Clem called out. He and three other linebackers were standing in a cluster, each of them holding a bottle of beer.

  "What do you need, boys?" I sauntered over in their direction, my plate still in my hand, only partly filled.

  "See that?” Clem jabbed a finger down at my food. "See what his plate looks like? That's the way the quarterback eats. That's why he's in the position he is." Clem grinned at me. "Now, if you'd seen what Harold here scarfed up before we even came to this shindig…"

  "Hey, I gotta keep up my weight!" Harold lifted one massive shoulder. "And you all boys can't tell me that you're not eating the same things."

  "Is this why you called me over here?" I rolled my eyes. "To discuss your diet or the difference in calorie recommendations for quarterbacks versus linebackers?"

  "No, man, that was just an extra commentary.” Lucas cuffed me gently on the shoulder, but even a casual smack from that guy could floor a lesser man. His hands were the size of dinner plates. "No, we asked you over here because we're debating the skills of quarterbacks. Hal says that Tom Brady is the greatest to ever play the game. I'm sticking with Peyton Manning. And Clem over here swears that Drew Brees is going to go down as the best of our generation. So, we need you to be the tiebreaker."

  "You really think I have an opinion on this?" I demanded, pretending to be incredulous. "And, honestly guys, I’m more than a little hurt that my name didn't even enter the discussion."

  I watched with a hint of amusement as dismay and realization dawned on all three faces. It was Lucas who spoke first

  "No, that's not how it is. We meant, uh, the best quarterback outside the Rebels."

  "Yeah, absolutely.” Harold hurried to agree. "It goes without saying that you're the best there ever was, dude. You’re the GOAT."

  Only Clem was silent, regarding me with narrowed eyes. "Shut up,” he muttered to his friends. “He's just playing with you.”

  Hal wagged his head. “No, Gideon doesn't play. Most poker-faced guy I've ever met in my whole life."

  "Thanks for that. I think.” I picked up a piece of crudités between two fingers and tossed it into my mouth, swallowing it almost whole. "But Clem’s right. I was just kidding around. I know I'm not anywhere near the level of those three guys. Maybe someday. But then again, maybe not. For right now, I'm just happy to be the best player I can be in this position on this team."

  Hal nodded. “Okay, then, if we all agree on that point, you can still weigh in on our argument. Who is it going to be? Tom, Peyton, or Drew?"

  I pretended to give it serious consideration, like I'd never really thought about this before. Please. "They're all really talented guys, and they work damn hard. But if you backed me into a corner, held a knife to my throat and insisted I choose just one I guess I'd have to go with . . . Drew.”

  The other two muttered disagreement while Lucas held out his fist for me to bump

  "Dude,” he said with appreciation. "That's what I'm talking about. That guy is just a beauty to watch on the field, you know?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly how I feel, too. If I could get to be half the player he is by the time I reach that level, I'll be happy."

  Of course, it was all bullshit. Because I didn't want to be as good as Drew Brees by the time I was his age; I intended to be better. I intended to be better than Tom, Peyton, Drew… and hey, just for fun, let's toss in Eli as well. I wanted the name Gideon Maynard to be synonymous with the best quarterback of all time by the time I entered the Hall of Fame, in the long distant future.

  “Heyyyyyy.” Hal was looking over my shoulder, and the expression on his face told me that we were done talking football. “Check out the chick who just walked in. Holy shit, I think she might be the hottest girl I've ever seen."

  Because we were subtle like that – not! – we all turned as one to see who was coming into the room. I had to give Hal his props on this one; the woman who was standing next to Ellie Iversen, leaning over to kiss her cheek and chatting with animation, just might've been the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. She had hair that was so pale blonde as to appear ethereal, and she was built like a teen boy's wet dream.

  Clem grunted. “Think I better go get an introduction to her before the rest of you fools try to hone in on the woman who is clearly meant to be my wife.” He started to move that way and then stopped dead in his tracks.

  "Oh. Fuck it. I guess she's with him.” The crowd parted just enough that we could see now that the goddess we’d been drooling over was holding the hand of a man who was in a wheelchair. He was a good-looking guy, there was no doubt about that, and his upper body said that either he had been an athlete, or maybe he still was. Even as we all watched like creepy stalkers, he released the woman's hand and slid it around her waist, possessively, as if he knew that every man in the room had been fantasizing about the woman who belonged to him.

  “Well, even if that one’s taken, there are others around tonight.” Lucas glanced over the faces in the room, as though he was looking for someone in particular. "Ellie said Quinn has a lot of really smokin’ hot friends.”

  I snorted. "Did you ever think that maybe that was just Ellie’s way of getting you guys to show up at the engagement party?"

  Three pairs of eyes bored into me accusingly. “Don't even mess like that, man.” Clem’s voice was tight. “Ellie wouldn't do that to us.” He was silent for a beat. “Would she?”

  I slapped him on the back with my free hand. “You think about that, buddy. I'm going to head over to the bar. I'll catch up with you all later.”

  I moved away from the linebacker crowd and meandered past my other teammates, returning nods of greeting but not stopping to talk to anyone else. The truth was, for as much fun as everyone else seemed to be having, this whole thing was torture for me. I hated parties, and I was only at this one for two reasons. One, Leo Taylor was my teammate, and if it was for the team, I would take any hit, even showing up at an excruciating ordeal like this. Two, our hostess tonight was Ellie Iversen, and I had a soft spot for her. She was married to Corey, who was one of my favorites on the whole team. Corey was better at pulling the guys together than anyone else; the dude had a knack for getting us all to see our goals clearly—and then inspiring us to go for them. Although he and I were co-captains, there was no doubt that he was more a man of the people than I would ever be.

  Of course, I also owed Ellie for helping me with my latest project. She’d been awesome about linking me up with a realtor, who’d sold my condo and found my new home. And Ellie just might have used that favor as leverage to make sure I showed up tonight.

  There weren’t many people standing at the bar, and I managed to order a glass of my favorite whiskey, neat, before I spotted an open cushion on a nearby leather couch. It was exactly what I’d been looking for—somewhere to hide until I could reasonably take off.

  Juggling both my almost empty plate and my full glass of booze, I took a seat and began the countdown to when I could vanish without offending anyone.

  I’d just begun sipping my drink when my brief solitude ended abruptly.

  “Gideon?” Ellie Iverson sank down next to me. “Hey, there! Do you need a refill?”

  I raised my glass, still three-quarters full. “No, thanks, I’m good.”

  “Hmmm. Okay.” Ellie tilted
her head, studying me in that way that always made me equal parts nervous and amused. “You know, have I mentioned that there are some lovely women here tonight? I could introduce you to one or two, if you wanted.”

  I exhaled, long and patiently. “Ellie.”

  She shook her head, holding up her hand. “I’m not saying I’d play matchmaker, Gideon. I just thought you might like someone to talk to. You look a little lonely over here by yourself.”

  I’m always lonely. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. No one wanted to listen to self-pitying crap.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just . . . taking it all in.” I smiled at her, hoping she bought my act. The truth was, I liked Ellie. Her heart was huge, and she spread love all over our team like nobody’s business. No one could be sad or in pain too long around Ellie—she was a fixer, and she wanted everyone to be happy.

  The only downside was that Ellie also wanted everyone to be happily paired up. She had an entire squad of beloved sorority sisters, and she was always trying to fix single team members up with her unattached friends. Only a couple of the matches had stuck, though, and most of those seemed to be casual relationships.

  “Gideon.” Ellie squeezed my arm. “Listen, you know I respect your privacy. I try not to push or to pry. But you have to remember that it’s okay to need help from your friends. No man has to stand alone all the time. And since Lilly . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I know you’ve had a rough time of it, even if you don’t let anyone see that. Meeting someone new might not be a bad thing—even if it’s only for conversation.”

  I smiled at her fondly. “Ellie, thanks. I know you mean well. But I’m not ready for anything like that yet. I’m not looking to hook up just for the sake of sex, and I’m sure as hell not looking for a girlfriend. I’m steering clear of women until I’m done playing football.”

  Ellie’s eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. “But Gideon, you’re only twenty-six years old. You could have a long career. Being alone all that time would be horrible.”