Sway (Keeping Score Book 6)

by Tawdra Kandle

  She gave me wide, innocent eyes and lifted one hand in a pledge. “Dude. As if I ever would.” Smirking, she added, “It’s not me you have to worry about, anyway. It’s Mom and Nana. I overheard both of them going on and on about what a delightful, lovely woman Gideon has found, and how it’s about time that the boy had some happiness.”

  “Shit.” I wilted a little. It had seemed as though everything was going smoothly tonight, and I’d actually begun to relax and enjoy myself. Apparently, I’d let down my guard too soon.

  “Oh, don’t get all uptight, Gideon.” Gabby patted my arm. “It’ll be fine. Give the family something to get excited about. The worst thing that could happen is that whatever’s between you and Sarah fizzles out, and then they’ll all adjust.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? There’s nothing between us but friendship.” I stressed that last word. “It’s a good friendship, I think, but that’s it.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, loser.” Gabby laughed softly. “Because I see things you don’t. I’m watching both of you when no one else is. I didn’t miss the way your eyes light up whenever Sarah laughs. And I definitely saw her stare after you with more than just friendly feelings when you left the table to get refills on your drinks. There’s such a vibe between the two of you that the rest of us are going to need cold showers before the night is over.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my lips. I wanted to convince myself that I couldn’t argue with my sister because she was impossible. The hard truth, though, was that when I tried to deny what Gabby was intimating, all I could remember was the expression in Sarah’s eyes, so close to mine, just before we’d been interrupted by our arrival in the city. All I could recall was the soft brush of her breath across my cheek, the sweet scent of her and how every cell of my body had been yearning to kiss her.

  “I’ll see you later, Gabs.” I skirted around her, heading back to my table, ignoring my sister’s laughter behind me.

  My aunt Poppy had joined Uncle Chet at the table with Sarah, and all three seemed to be having a good time together. Gabby was right; Sarah fit in here. My mind flew back to memories of Lilly and how easily the two of us had moved between our families. That wasn’t unusual; we’d known each other since toddlerhood, and our parents had been friends for years. Lilly had been more like a sister for a long time before she’d become . . . something else to me.

  That had been one reason among many that I’d been so loathe to date again after things had ended between Lilly and me. I couldn’t imagine having that same ease with anyone else that we did. I couldn’t fathom having to introduce another woman to the complicated web of my family. Yet, here was Sarah, looking as relaxed as if she’d known all of my relatives for years.

  I reached the table, set down our wine glasses, and leaned over my date’s shoulder, speaking to her in a sotto voce that was designed to be heard by my aunt and uncle.

  “Whatever they’re telling you, it’s all lies. Believe none of it.”

  Sarah turned her head to look up at me, her eyes dancing, and God help me, I wanted to grab her hand and drag her off to the nearest broom closet and kiss her until neither of us remembered our names.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know all the stories I’ve heard!” Sarah teased. She slid her refilled wine glass closer and took a small sip. “Thanks for this.”

  “You’re welcome.” I picked up her free hand and squeezed it gently, not even thinking about what I was doing until I noticed my aunt’s eagle-eyed gaze of interest.

  “We were actually just talking about San Francisco,” Sarah went on. “Your aunt was telling me that she went to college at Berkeley, and she was giving me some tips on places to visit in Marin County. I haven’t had time to venture outside the city much yet.”

  “Oh.” That was a relief. They hadn’t been grilling Sarah about our relationship or sharing old stories about me.

  But that reprieve was about to end. The look in Poppy’s eyes as she scooted closer to me was uncannily similar to what I’d seen on Gabby’s face a few minutes before. “I’ve been behaving myself so far, Gideon, but I really have to ask—how did the two of you meet?”

  Sarah glanced up at me, waiting on my response. To my immense relief, across the room my father had risen to his feet and was clinking his knife against a champagne glass to draw the room’s attention.

  Poppy shook her head. “Saved by the bell . . . or the champagne flute, as it were . . . but only for now. Trust me, I’ll be back.”

  So saying, she dragged Uncle Chet up and across the dance floor to stand with my parents and Gammy and Gramps, where they were waiting to kick off the toasts. Dozens of black-uniformed servers circulated trays of champagne glasses, distributing the bubbly to every guest.

  Sarah and I sat shoulder to shoulder, both of us listening as my father began to speak. “Ellen and Poppy asked me to begin this evening. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the eldest son-in-law or the favorite son-in-law, or if I was just the one they knew would be willing to stand up and talk first.”

  Laughter rippled over the tables.

  “We’re so pleased that all of you could join us this evening to honor sixty years of love and commitment between my wife’s parents. It’s a milestone worthy of recognition, and one that should serve to inspire all of us toward a similar goal.”

  I could have sworn half the eyes in the room had swiveled to lock on me. Or maybe it was just my mother’s laser glare, fastened on my face with a shit ton of meaning loaded there.

  “Marian and Sam met sixty-three years ago, and as many of you probably already know, fittingly, it was football that brought them together. Sam was a college star on the gridiron, hoping to translate that experience to a coaching job in Philadelphia, and Marian was the team owner’s daughter. Sam has been known to say that he only wanted the job, but when he found out that the girl came with it, he decided that he could work with that.”

  My grandmother rolled her eyes, and Gramps cackled. It was one of his favorite jokes. Poor Gammy had been hearing it for six decades.

  “Through a long string of coaching gigs and eventual team ownership, the birth of their two beautiful daughters, Ellen and Poppy, sixteen conference championships and two League championships, Marian and Sam have navigated this life, this marriage, this love, with grace and humor that serves as an example for all of us. And so it is in honor of that love that I ask you all to stand and raise your glasses . . . to Marian and Sam!”

  Over a hundred chairs scraped over the marble tiled floor, and over a hundred champagne flutes lifted up to reflect the glistening lights of the chandeliers as we all echoed my father’s words.

  “To Marian and Sam!”

  Next to me, Sarah fumbled in her purse, sniffling suspiciously.

  “Are you okay?” I frowned, watching as she pulled out a tissue and dabbed her nose.

  “Yeah. Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Still, her eyes were bright, even as they didn’t quite meet mine. “The bubbles just went to my nose. That’s all.”

  “Hmmm.” I was about to question her further, but the toasts were continuing. We all raised our classes three more times in my grandparents’ honor before everyone could sit again. The band began to play, and couples were taking to the dance floor.

  I remembered all too keenly what it had felt like to hold Sarah in my arms at Leo and Quinn’s wedding. Tonight, it would be odder if we didn’t dance than if we did; Sarah was my date, and there was music, and a dance floor . . .

  Before I could chicken out, I turned to face her. “Let’s dance.”

  Apparently, her moment of sentimentality had passed, because Sarah gave me a look of exaggerated shock. “Dance? Aren’t you the guy who I had to strong-arm on the dance floor this spring at the wedding? And now you’re actually asking me?”

  I sighed. “Let’s not make a big deal of this, okay? Yes, I’d like to dance with you. The beach was different—there were too many people there who I didn’t kn
ow. I was at the wedding as Gideon, the Rebels’ quarterback. Here, I’m just Gideon, the grandson of Marian and Sam. No one cares if I’m dancing or who I’m doing it with.” That last part, of course, was a complete lie, because my grandmothers, my mother, my aunts and my sister would both notice and care. Still, that was a problem for another time. Right now, at this moment, I wanted an excuse to hold this woman in my arms.

  Sarah nodded slowly. “Now that’s an explanation I can understand.” She gave me her hand and allowed me to pull her to her feet. “I’d love to dance with you, QB. Thank you for asking.”

  I held onto her hand as we made our way toward the dance floor, glad for an excuse to twine my fingers with hers. But just as I was about to draw Sarah close to me, I heard my name.

  “Gideon.”

  The older couple who stood on the edge of the dancers were nearly as familiar to me as my own parents, although I thought with a twinge of regret that they seemed to have aged ten years since I’d last spoken with them . . . had it been nearly three years ago now? I knew where it had been. I remembered all too well how the three of us had sat stiffly in the waiting room chairs outside the emergency room, how we’d all haltingly answered the questions of the police officers. I’d longed to offer Lilly’s parents some form of comfort, some assurance that I’d do everything I could to make sure she’d be all right, but standing in the way of that was the knowledge that I’d already let her down. I’d already failed both her and her parents, and nothing I could say or do would erase that reality.

  “Emmett.” I disentangled my fingers from Sarah’s, extending my own to shake the older man’s hand before turning to his wife. “Camilla. It’s . . . ah, good to see you.”

  “You, too.” Emmett seemed to have to make an effort to speak. “We’ve been watching your games whenever we can. The team’s doing well.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I bobbed my head, feeling like a damn marionette. Next to me, Sarah cleared her throat softly, reminding me of her presence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Sarah, this is Camilla and Emmett Berkshire. And this is my friend, Sarah Jenkins.” My mouth had gone dry, and I was having trouble figuring out what to say when. “Ah, the Berkshires have been friends of my parents for a long time. As long as I can remember, actually.”

  Camilla made a small noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was a snort of derision or a hum of agreement. There didn’t seem to be much more to say, yet none of us moved.

  “How’ve you both been?” I coughed, clearing my throat. “Everything’s good, I hope?”

  “It’s been a rough few years.” Emmett managed a ghost of a smile. “But I hope we’re moving on to a better time now, thanks. All of us.”

  “Lilly was invited tonight. She chose not to come.” Camilla spoke up for the first time. “She didn’t want there to be any unpleasantness.”

  My throat was tight. “I would hope Lilly would know that she is always welcome at any of my family’s social events,” I managed. “I only want the best for her. I tried . . . I did everything I could to let her know that.”

  Emmett gripped his wife’s upper arm. “Of course, you do,” he replied smoothly. “It’s what we all want. Camilla, darling, let’s get another drink and say hello to the Kemps.” He steered Camilla out of our path, pausing only to address first Sarah and then me. “It was nice to meet you. Gideon, best of luck for the rest of the season.”

  And then there were gone, swallowed up by the crowd. On autopilot, I led Sarah onto the dance floor and tugged her close to me.

  "Well, that was odd and incredibly uncomfortable," Sarah declared, twining her arms around my neck as we begin to move together in time to the slow song. When I didn't respond, she added, "So . . . are you going to explain what it was all about, or is that one of those things I'm not allowed to ask questions about?"

  "When have I ever successfully stopped you from asking a question?" I retorted, but when she only continued to level her knowing gaze at me, I relented. "Oh, all right. I'll tell you all about the Berkshires, but can it wait? I don't want to get into all of this on the dance floor. I really just want to enjoy this time with you."

  Sarah seem to consider that for a moment before she nodded. "All right.” She inclined her head in acquiescence. "But I'm holding you to the promise to tell me the whole story later."

  “I will." I slid my hands from her hips to rest on her lower back. “But for right now, I’m holding in my arms a beautiful woman who’s wearing a very elegant, very sexy dress. She’s a good friend who did me a big favor tonight, and I’d like to show my appreciation for all of that by enjoying this dance and not thinking about anything else but . . . her.” I pressed her even closer to me. “I don’t want to think about anything or anyone else but you, princess.”

  She lifted eyes to me that were awash with uncertainty and confusion, and yet behind all of that, the heat was unmistakable. I didn’t know what to do with that—not here, not now—and so I simply closed my eyes, laid my cheek against her silky hair and swayed to the music.

  I awoke the next morning with the same kind of anticipation that I used to have as a kid on the days leading up to Christmas. At first, I couldn’t remember why, and then it all came back.

  Sarah was still here, at my parents’ house. When I’d let my mother know that my date for the party was a friend who’d drive up from South Jersey, she’d insisted that Sarah stay overnight with us. I knew that Mom’s motives were probably mostly pure, in that she didn’t want Sarah to have to go home after what was sure to be a late night, but I was also smart enough to know that my mother was hoping to get a little more time with the woman she’d never heard of until now.

  After our awkward encounter with Lilly’s parents, the rest of the party had been relaxed and actually kind of fun. Sarah and Gabby had spent a lot of time on the dance floor when the music was fast, and I’d enjoyed watching them from my spot at the table. That had been partly amusing, as the two girls bounced around, singing along with abandon, and partly self-torture as my eyes roved over Sarah’s lithe body. I knew she didn’t mean to be so alluring; she wasn’t trying to tempt me, and she wasn’t doing anything outrageous. She was simply having a good time, being herself . . . and that might have been the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  Between her forays with my sister, Sarah had either sat with me to recover or pulled me onto the floor for the slow songs. Still, we’d never gotten a chance to talk about the Berkshires.

  By the time the party had ended, we’d all been too exhausted to do more than drag ourselves home and fall into our respective beds. Even Gabby had elected to spend the night at our parents’ house, probably because she didn’t want to miss anything, I thought.

  I rolled out of bed with a groan and stalked into my ensuite bathroom for a shower. It wasn’t late, but I knew my parents would be downstairs in the breakfast room already. I dressed quickly, pulling on an old pair of worn jeans and a dark red Henley before I jogged down the steps.

  The sound of Sarah’s laughter reached me before I even saw her, and it made me smile. Evidently, she’d managed to get the jump on me and was already eating.

  “Good morning, Gideon.” My mother graced me with a warm smile, lifting her cheek for me to kiss. “We’ve been having such a nice time getting to know your Sarah. She’s just delightful.”

  I grimaced, not sure which made me more uncomfortable: that my mother had declared Sarah delightful or that she’d referred to her as my Sarah. I decided to ignore both and pretend that nothing was bothering me at all as I took the seat next to our guest.

  “Great to hear. Morning, Dad.”

  “Have some coffee, son.” My father slid the pot my way.

  “Thanks.” I poured myself a cup and slide a sideways glance at Sarah. “Aren’t you the early bird with the worm?”

  “No worms here.” She cast me a sunny look. “I just wanted to make sure I had a chance to thank your parents for allowing me to be part of the wonderful party last night and for graciously putting me up,
so I didn’t have to skulk back to Jersey in the wee small hours of the morning. I wasn’t sure what time you were going to be rolling out of bed.”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Sarah flipped over one hand, lifting it in a who-knows gesture. “You’re always talking about how training doesn’t stop for anything or anyone, and that there is no off-season for football players, blah, blah, blah . . . so for all I knew, you were up at dawn to run ten miles and then hit the gym for weight training.” She narrowed her eyes, peering at me with suspicion. “Were you?”

  “No, smartass,” I returned. “For your information, I slept in. Alert the media, stop the presses . . . I actually took a morning off.”

  Sarah slapped a hand to her heart, pretending shock. “The world may stop turning on its axis. The end times are upon us.” She poked my shoulder. “But tell the truth: you’re planning to train later on today, aren’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head, about to shoot back some snarky response before I noticed that the table was quiet. I realized that my parents were watching the exchange between Sarah and me with avid interest and barely concealed amusement.

  Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “Is Gabby still asleep?”

  My father shook his head. “You know your sister. She keeps the oddest hours. She was up with the sun and heading back to her place to work. She said that if you and Sarah wanted to walk over later, she’s planning to take a break around noon.”