“Well, unless something comes along to change my mind, that’s my rule.” I tossed down the rest of my drink. “Think I’ll grab that refill now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Her forehead wrinkled, and she bit down on her lip. Feeling bad that I might have hurt her feelings, I softened my tone. “You throw a great party, Ellie. You’re an amazing friend, and I appreciate everything you said to me. But I’m all right. Really. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Fine.” She tossed up her hands. “Do it your way, Gideon. I know you will anyway. Men!” She shook her head, but at the same time, she shot an elbow to my ribs, just to let me know there were no hard feelings.
“Hey, you know, if you want to be a real pal, save my seat here while I get another drink.”
Ellie nodded. “Fine. But I still say you should mingle a little more and sit a little less.”
Pretending not to hear her, I made my way back to the bar that was set up in the corner of the living room. I had nearly reached my destination when I heard someone laughing, and without even thinking about it, I turned my head toward the sound. It had come from the woman standing with Leo and another guy, someone I didn’t recognize as being from the team. The woman, though . . . for a minute, I stared, frowning.
Her black hair was long, waving around her shoulders. She wore a dress of shimmery green material that left her arms bare; the hem hit her at mid-thigh, which left acres of gorgeous legs on display. When she moved, the silk of her dress clung to her breasts, and Jesus Christ, they were enough to make me go weak.
She tossed her head back to laugh, and as she lowered it again, her huge brown eyes swept over the room, pausing only briefly when they ran over me. For one moment of insanity, I wanted her to see me, to notice me—I wanted her to stride across the room and introduce herself.
With a sharp breath, I gave my head a shake, swallowing hard. I wasn’t some damn horny dude without scruples, like Harold, Clem and Lucas. What I’d said to Ellie a few moments ago was the truth—or it was my truth, at any rate. The fact that this woman had caught my eye didn’t change my mind. There wasn’t room in my world for the complication of a relationship.
I forced myself to go back to the sofa and resume my seat. It seemed I was just in time; Ellie was distracted, standing up as soon as I returned, murmuring something about needing to check with Quinn about something or other before she slipped off.
That was fine with me. With Ellie out of the way, I could finish my drink and then sneak out. I was suddenly exhausted, longing to be back home. Staring down into my lap, I made a concerted effort not to allow my gaze to wander in hopes of spying the woman who’d caught my eye before. I didn’t need to see her again. She couldn’t have been as beautiful as I’d thought, and besides, even if she was, she was probably here with someone else. Maybe the guy who’d been talking with her and with Leo. He hadn’t exactly seemed like a boyfriend or a husband, but then again, who was I to say? I hadn’t looked that closely. And why should I care anyway?
"Excuse me."
A deep voice yanked me from my brooding, and I looked up from my nearly empty glass to see that someone was next to me. It was the dude in the wheelchair, the one who had rolled into the party with the beautiful blonde woman a little while ago. He was watching me carefully, wearing a guarded expression on his face that also contained a hint of apology.
"I'm really sorry.” A nerve ticked in his cheek. “I didn't mean to interrupt you. And I'm sure you get this all the time. But I just wanted to say…” He shrugged. "I'm a big fan. I love to watch you play, and…" He ducked his head. "Well, I guess that's it. I promised Quinn and Leo that I'd be cool and not go all fanboy on you, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to just say hello—and thanks for all the finesse you bring to the game.”
I set down my glass on the coffee table and held out my hand. "Hey, I appreciate what you said." We shook hands, and I noted once more that he was in excellent shape, at least from the waist up. I thought absently that if he weren’t in this chair, I’d hate to face him on the field. "But you have me at a disadvantage, because you know who I am, but I don't think I've been introduced to you. And if I say my name now, I just sound like a douche bag."
"Never." He released my hand and deftly set the brake on his wheelchair. “I'm Eli Tucker. I went to Birch with Quinn, and I've been friends with both Quinn and Leo for a while.” He craned his neck around, searching the crowd behind him. “My girlfriend Zelda was Quinn’s roommate all four years in college."
"Well, I'm glad to meet you, Eli." I paused, wondering if there was any tactful way to ask the question that had me curious. "Is it really rude of me if I say that you look like you were a football player?"
To my relief, Eli chuckled. "I don't know if it's rude or not, but hey, you're Gideon Maynard. You can ask me anything you want. And yeah, I was a quarterback, actually, for my high school team before—” He tapped his legs. “—before this happened.”
At my questioning glance, he added, “If you’re wondering, yes, it happened on the football field. I took a bad hit, and after that play, I couldn't feel my legs."
"Aww, man." It was what we all feared, all of us who walked onto that field. We ran on as gods, but every one of us realized that we were setting ourselves up to be carried off on stretchers. No matter what position you played, there was always that chance.
"Yeah.” Eli stared down at his feet. "I always thought football was going to be my life, but that ended in my senior year of high school. I had to recalibrate and figure out what was going to happen . . . after.”
"I can imagine.” I studied him. “So, what’re you doing now? I hope it doesn’t sound weird to say that you look like you're still in pretty incredible shape."
Eli quirked one eyebrow. "Thanks. I work hard at not letting myself get soft. And it turns out that football wasn't finished with me yet—or maybe it's the other way around. I taught school for a year, but then I was recruited to be an assistant coach on a college team, so that's what I've been doing since last fall. I work with the football team at Birch College, my alma mater."
"That's gotta be…" I searched for a way to express what I wanted to say. "Well, it's gotta be rewarding, but at the same time, frustrating."
"That's it in a nutshell.” Eli nodded. "But that frustration is probably one of the reasons that my boss recruited me. The team had some real problems in the last few years, and Coach was hired to whip it into shape. I'm part of that – at least partly because I can guilt them into realizing that they have opportunities I would kill to have. You'd be surprised how vulnerable college football players are to a visual reminder of mortality, like me."
“There's my boyfriend, the life of the party.” The words were light and teasing, and the voice that spoke them was almost musical. I looked up into the bright blue eyes of Eli Tucker's girlfriend.
She touched the back of his neck possessively and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I wander off for a few minutes, and I come back to find you here, talking deep, existential stuff when you’re supposed to be having fun. This is a party, remember?"
"You caught me," Eli admitted without any remorse. He took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together. “Gideon, this is my girlfriend, Zelda. Sweetheart, this is Gideon Maynard. He's the quarterback for—”
"I know who he is, babe." Zelda’s tone was wry. "You might remember, I do follow the game, too, and I've watched Leo play as often as you have.” She leaned forward and beamed at me. “Nice to meet you in person, Gideon. I've heard good things about you, both on and off the field."
"Only half of them are true,” I countered, winking at her. "It's great to meet you, too. Eli was just telling me that you were Quinn's roommate during college."
"Oh, yeah, I know all the dirt on her." She laughed. "Actually, it's probably the other way around. But the truth of the matter is there isn't anything I wouldn't do for Quinn. And I'm thrilled that she and Leo are finally making it official. It's been a long and windi
ng road."
I knew vaguely what she was referring to; I'd heard some of the guys talk about the fact that Leo's girl had actually married their mutual friend, a guy who’d had a terminal illness, and that at the time, the heartbreak had nearly destroyed Leo. But I had to give it to the guy: he was professional, and he’d never brought that shit into work. I've never seen him break down, either on the field or in the locker room, and for that I gave him a lot of credit.
Love usually made people crazy. It was an important reminder for me—not that I needed one.
And on that note, it was past time for me to blow this joint. I’d done my duty, and now, finally, I could go home.
Clearing my throat, I eased to the edge of the couch, preparing to rise to my feet. “Well, it was great meeting both of you, but I think I'm going to…"
“Oh, there she is!” Zelda interrupted me, raising her hand and waving. "Babe, I told you I wanted to introduce you to Sarah, the woman I had lunch with in Washington this week. She's right over there. Hold on, and let me see if I can get her—”
Zelda raised her voice, calling for whoever this Sarah was. As I followed the direction of her gaze, my heart stuttered when I realized that she was gesturing to the beautiful dark-haired woman I'd noticed earlier. And what was worse, said dark-haired woman was now moving across the room to join us.
Shit. I wanted to get out of there before I was forced into talking with her. Before I was drawn into a conversation where I might find out that I was attracted to this woman.
But it was too late. She was already standing on the other side of Eli Tucker's wheelchair, leaning around to give Zelda a quick hug, the kind that chicks seemed to use as handshakes these days.
"Sarah, this is Eli Tucker, my boyfriend.” There was a shimmer of undeniable happiness and pride in Zelda's words as she lay her hand on Eli's shoulder. "Baby, this is Sarah Jenkins. She's known Leo and Quinn since they were all in junior high. And she now works for Senator O'Hara's office in DC."
"Hey, Sarah.” Eli grinned at the woman. "I've heard a lot about you. Nice to put a face with the name.”
"Right back at you.” Sarah’s responding smile was broad. "Although, I have to say, Zelda here might not have told me what an utter hottie you are."
Eli's face went slightly red. "Well, I tried to tell her to keep that on the down low, so I don't have hordes of women chasing after me."
Zelda gave an exaggerated sigh of feigned annoyance and then angled her body to include me in the conversation. “Sarah, have you met Gideon Maynard yet?"
This was it. This was the moment of truth, when I'd have to be rude and surly so that she didn't see in my eyes the pull that I felt for her already.
"No, I don't believe I've had the pleasure." She turned her full attention on me, and I felt like I was being pulled into a pit from which I was not sure I'd ever be able to escape.
"Of course, I know of you. I've seen you play when I've been down here for Leo's games." She tilted her head, considering. "Which, now that I come to think of it, are your games, too. Sorry, Gideon, but since I know Leo, in my eyes the Richmond Rebels are his team more than anybody else's."
Against every ounce of better judgment within me, I closed my fingers around hers gently and gave her hand a brief squeeze. "Perfectly understandable. Um, I don’t want to be rude, but actually, I was just—”
“If I could have everyone's attention.” Corey Iversen's voice boomed over the soft music and the conversations of the room. "I know you all are having a great time, because who doesn't have a wonderful time at one of my wife's parties, am I right?”
There was a murmur of agreement and a smattering of applause.
“But now, we have a little bit of business I guess we have to take care of."
Ellie smacked him on the shoulder, and Corey laughed, shaking his head. "I mean, we are honored to be able to introduce you to Quinn’s mom, Carrie Russell, and Leo’s parents, Lisa and Joe Taylor.”
As every guest who wasn’t already standing rose to his or her feet, three people stepped forward, the two women standing with their arms around one another’s waists. The man, who looked very much the way I expected Leo would in about twenty-five years, cleared his throat.
“Tonight . . . well, tonight’s been a long time coming. I met this woman here, Carrie Russell, and her wonderful late husband Bill, nearly twenty-five years ago, when my wife Lisa convinced me that we needed to go to a childbirth class while she was pregnant with our third son, Leo.” Mr. Taylor wagged his head. “I told her I didn’t need a refresher, but when your wife is carrying your baby and asks for something, guys, you don’t tell her no.”
There was appreciative laughter.
“We made two sets of friends in that class. Three babies were born, and they became friends, too. For all these years, we’ve shared our lives with the Russells and the Wellmans. We’ve had ups and downs. We’ve had losses . . .” Mr. Taylor’s voice broke, and the two women held each other tighter. “And we’ve had wonderful, happy days. Tonight is one of the happy times. Tonight, Lisa and I are thrilled, proud and excited as hell to officially welcome Quinn into our family. She’s always been in our hearts, but now we can call her our daughter, too.”
Servers were circulating, I realized, passing out flutes filled with bubbly, pale golden liquid. I took one when it was offered to me.
Mr. Taylor lifted up his champagne. “To Quinn and Leo. May all the days to come be filled with laughter, light and most importantly, love.”
Everyone began clinking glasses, murmuring in agreement with the sentiment. After a few moments, Quinn’s mother began to speak, offering her own toast. I suspected she wasn’t going to be the last one.
I stood with the rest of the guests, my eyes darting toward the door as I wondered if I could get there subtly enough not to make a scene. I didn’t want to have anyone call me out for leaving during the crucial moment in the party process. My jacket had been taken from me when I’d walked in the door by someone Ellie had hired for the evening, and I had to get that back before I took off. It was damned cold outside.
I hesitated, caught in a loop of uncertainty, knowing that if I didn't exit soon, I was going to be caught here for even longer. At the same time, I didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings or offend Ellie, who’d done such a great job with this evening. I might not like parties, but I could appreciate the amount of planning, organizing and hard work that went into making them successful. No one could grow up with my mother and not know that much.
"You look bored."
It was her. She was standing closer to me than I’d realized, her arm near enough to mine that I could almost feel her body heat against my side. Her conspiratorial whisper contained more than a hint of amusement.
"You look like you'd rather be any place else in the world except standing at this party right now listening to Quinn and Leo's parents make toasts."
"I'm not bored," I whispered back with a lot more vehemence than I'd intended. "I'm . . . tired. It's late, and it's been a long day."
"Tired, huh?" There was no doubt that she was skeptical. "So . . . what is it that a football player does at this time of year that would leave him so tired? Do you have a side gig that nobody knows about? Are you holding down a factory job? Or do you have a secret wife and kids hidden off somewhere, who are keeping you up at all hours?"
Okay, I took back all the admiring thoughts I’d had about this chick. She was annoying as all hell. As a matter of fact, she kind of reminded me of my little sister, and not in a good way. I shifted a little so that I could see her face as I answered her, my words dripping with contempt.
"Not that it’s any of your business, since I don't know you, and we just were introduced at a party and are unlikely to see each other ever again, but for your information, I was training all day. Working out, you know. As you mentioned, I’m a football player, and that's what most of our days are comprised of, believe it or not."
“Isn’t it the off season?” she i
nquired, challenging me. “During the off season, football players are supposed to . . . you know, be off. Not so much with the training and whatever else it is that you guys do when you're playing the games."
“Maybe for some people,” I answered her tersely. "There is no off season for me.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “No off season for me, says Richmond Rebels QB Gideon Maynard.”
I had the distinct sense that this woman was mocking me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you’re feeding me a sound bite, like you would your public. Like you’d give the press.”
“Just because something’s a sound bite doesn’t mean it can’t be true,” I returned.
“I guess not.” She wasn’t convinced. “But you’re deliberately redirecting me. Deflecting the question. I still think you look bored. You don’t want to be here.”
I gave up. “So?”
"So, if you're so anxious not to be here, it begs the question of why you are."
"Has anybody ever told you that you're kind of rude?" I gave her the patented Gideon Maynard stare, the withering glare that was supposed to leave reporters, pushy fans, and the defensive line of the opposing team quaking in their boots.
Apparently, though, it had no effect on this woman. She thought about what I'd said for a moment and then smiled at me, her eyes gleaming with barely quelled laughter.
"Nope. I don't think anybody ever has. Besides, I'm not rude, I'm just direct. And I get the distinct sense that you're used to people tiptoeing around you. Maybe you're just not used to somebody talking to you like you’re a real person."
"Oh, yeah, that's exactly what it is. Thanks so much for opening my mind to this truth." I rolled my eyes. "I can now live the rest of my life in complete peace and awareness. I am now a woke man."
She stared up at me, those brown eyes searching my face until I felt more vulnerable and naked than I ever had in my entire life. Just as I was wracking my brain, trying to think of something to say, anything to break the spell of the moment, she spoke again.
Sway (Keeping Score Book 6) Page 5