Lyric and Lingerie

by Tracy Wolff

  “Dalton Somebody wants to talk to you about the offensive line coaching job. Maybe you should have picked up the phone all those times he called.”

  “I … I …”

  Lyric leaned over and put a hand over his. “Take a minute and just breathe.” Gently, she squeezed his hand. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting.”

  “It wasn’t. At all. I figured they were just after me to do the exit paperwork.” He looked absolutely stunned.

  “Yeah, because Dalton had nothing better to do than to hassle you for your exit paperwork. Doesn’t he have people to do that for him?” She’d never known Heath to run from anything.

  “Yeah, but …”

  But he was Heath freaking Montgomery. Of course he would assume the team manager would want to talk to him about something as mundane as exit paperwork. In his world, it would probably even be true.

  More minutes passed without him saying anything, and she was about to excuse herself, to give him a chance to think about what he wanted—and maybe even to call Dalton back. But as soon as she went to move away from him, he wrapped a hand around her wrist to hold her in place.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “Do you think I would make a good coach?”

  “I think you would make an amazing coach. You know the game inside out, and you know what it’s like to be a player, so you can come at it from that angle too. Plus, you love people and people love you. I think you’d do a fantastic job of motivating your players and helping them be the best they can be. I also think you’d be really good at kicking their asses in the best possible way.” Yes, she could definitely see him coaching.

  He stroked his chin. “I do like to kick a little ass.” He reached a hand out to stroke hers. “If we’re talking about your ass, I like to do some other things as well.”

  She was still too raw from his earlier revelation to play with him, but she’d be lying if she said his touch didn’t feel good. Because it did. So did sitting here pressed into his side as they talked about their future.

  No, not their future, she reminded herself a little viciously. His future. No matter what he told her parents during their fake engagement, Heath’s endgame didn’t include her.

  She didn’t come back with some sexy innuendo like she knew he wanted. “Maybe you should call your agent, talk to him about the whole coaching thing.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.” She tilted her head up so she could look him straight in the eye.

  “Josh’ll be up for whatever makes me a lot of money, which this will. But I don’t need money. What I need to know is if I can do this job.” He sounded so uncertain, and he was never uncertain.

  “No,” Lyric corrected him. “What you need to know is if you want to do this job. Because we both know you can do it.”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. I’m always right. You should learn that now. It’ll make your life so much easier in the future.” She froze as soon as the words left her mouth.

  She expected Heath to make some kind of joke about them, to remind her that they were just playing at being engaged.

  “Another thing you’re right about.” He nodded.

  Damn the man. He was making her insane. But she wasn’t going to dwell on her problems right now, not when Heath’s professional life hung in the balance. “So, what do you think? Do you want to coach?”

  “I think I do.” He looked half surprised and half intrigued. “I really think I do.”

  Joy raged through her, followed by dread. Once Heath took this job, he’d be out of San Angelo so fast Cherry Cherry’s rims would spin themselves right off the car. And with him would go their fake engagement and all the very real sex they’d been having.

  Which was fine. It was good, actually. Better than good, because then she could go about putting her own life back together. As well as the pieces of her heart he was going to break all over again.

  But this wasn’t about her. It was about him. Which was why she leaned up and kissed him with all the pent-up emotion inside of her. And then whispered against his lips, “You need to call Dalton.”

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  * * *

  Pterodactyls were swimming in Heath’s stomach as he dialed Dalton’s number. Lyric sat in front of him, fairly vibrating with enthusiasm. He’d wanted to take a few minutes to work out what he was going to say, but she’d refused to hear of it. No amount of bargaining had let him off the hook. He was going to make the call right then, and she was going to sit right there and watch him.

  Dalton picked up on the second ring. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “I’ve been busy.” Feeling sorry for himself. Lyric was right. He saw the hope in her eyes, and it took the edge off the anxiety about his future.

  “Tommy Tatum moved over to the Cowboys—traitor. I need an offensive coordinator, and you’re it.” Dalton was all business. Heath checked his watch. It was 6:32 a.m. Who was all business at 6:32 a.m.? It only confirmed Heath’s theory that Dalton had a stick up his ass the size of the Treaty Oak.

  “I don’t know.” He’d never coached before. Never even given it any thought. “This feels like a pity job.”

  “It comes with a seven-million-dollar paycheck. No amount of pity is worth seven mil.” Dalton was king of the bean counters. The man not only pinched every single penny, he’d been known to squeeze them until they screamed.

  “Why?” Heath had never thought the GM really liked him, much less respected him.

  “We both know that it was you calling plays on the field. Tommy is a nice enough guy, but you were the genius behind the offensive line. I’d like for you to take that genius to the next level. The guys on the team already know and respect you, so the transition would be smoother than bringing in an outsider.”

  “What about Golden? What does he think about me taking the job?” He’d always gotten along with the head coach … for the most part. There were a couple of rookie training camp adventures that Golden hadn’t particularly liked. But he’d been young and stupid then, and now … now he was a man who was planning on bringing a wife back to Fort Worth.

  Just the thought of Lyric coming to Fort Worth with him had hope blooming in Heath’s chest. He still had a lot of groveling to do to make up for what had happened all those years ago, but he was man enough to do it. And he was man enough to take this job if it meant showing Lyric that he had a real future.

  “It was his idea.” Dalton sounded like he was in a hurry. He always sounded like he was in a hurry. He reminded Heath of one of those performers who spins plates. Dalton was always rushing from problem to problem, trying to keep all of the plates spinning. “What do you say?”

  “Yes.” It was out before he’d had time to think about it. Fear and elation saturated his system with adrenaline. If he screwed this up … he didn’t want to think of all of the ways he could screw this up. “You’ve got a new offensive coordinator.”

  He was excited about the future for the first time in a long time, and it was all thanks to Lyric.

  She smiled and clapped. She mouthed, “Hooray.”

  “Good. We can work out the details later today. I’ve got to go. Good-bye.” Dalton hung up.

  “Dalton was never one for small talk.” Heath pulled the phone away from his ear and slipped it in his front pocket.

  “I know. I like that about him.” Lyric tackled him with a hug. “I’m so happy for you. How do you feel about it?”

  No one but her had ever asked him how he felt about anything. He had Lyric and a new job. Life was good. “I’m sort of excited about it.”

  “Good. Me too.” She sucked on her top lip. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

  “Is it the wedding?” He knew he sounded overly hopeful, but he doubted that she’d catch that.

  “No, it’s more important.” She wouldn’t make eye contact. “Last night, you said that you’d seduc
ed the right girl here, but called her the wrong name.”

  Her eyes were brimming with hope. His heart smiled. If she still didn’t have feelings for him, she wouldn’t care.

  “Yes, I know it was you. I called you Harmony. I regret that more than you can know.” Now didn’t feel like the time to tell her that he loved her. If he pushed her too hard, she’d run away. She was important. She was the one. She was everything. “I was a mixed-up hormonal kid. You were the one … always the one, only I had you confused with Harmony. She was always the bright, shining star, and you were in the background. I should have noticed that sooner.”

  The smile froze on her lips.

  “I didn’t say that right. All of the things that I thought I loved about Harmony were really things about you. You’re the one I wanted to tell all of my secrets to, to run to when I had a problem, and to celebrate with when something good happened. You were always the one.” He needed for her to believe this if they were ever going to build a relationship … a life together.

  “Why?” Lyric swallowed. “Why couldn’t you see me?”

  “I’ve spent more than a little time wondering that over these last twelve years.” He wasn’t good at baring his soul to anyone, but she wouldn’t make fun of him. She never had. “The people in my life leave me. First it was my mother and then my father. I set myself up with people who will leave me. I knew Harmony wasn’t forever, so that was comfortable … safe.” He’d spent a lot of time mulling over why his relationships didn’t last, especially while he’d been in rehab and had just wanted someone or something to hold onto. Instead, he’d fixated on football and damn near killed himself on the off chance he’d get to play again. He’d drowned his sorrows in physical pain, hoping that by shear will and determination, he could make his body heal. It hadn’t worked.

  “You were always there. That’s a little frightening. Someone who cares enough about me to never leave. Someone who sees the good and the bad and likes me anyway.” Until he’d broken her heart by calling her the wrong name. “I hurt you, and that makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t ever want to hurt you again. I need you in my life. You smooth out my rough edges and make me see the best in myself.”

  She analyzed him, looking for some shred of falsehood. He’d done that to her. He’d given her reason to doubt him. No matter what, he couldn’t escape from his past any more than she could escape from hers.

  He took her hands in his. “Do you know how many times I picked up the phone to call you?” Even knowing that she wouldn’t answer. At the time, he hadn’t known why, but now he did, and if he’d been in her place, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone either.

  “No, why would you want to call me?” She didn’t get it.

  He loved her, but even if he told her right now, she wouldn’t believe him. He’d created that doubt in her ... he’d made her feel like she wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to kick his own ass.

  “Any time I had good news or bad, I wanted to share it with you. You were the person I’d run to, and suddenly you weren’t there.” He wasn’t saying this right. “Do you think we can ever get that back?”

  He felt like his life hung in the balance. Forget the coaching job—she was the life he wanted, but he didn’t know if she still wanted one with him.

  “We’re not children anymore.” She dropped her eyes but still held his hands. “I want to believe you so badly, and it’s not that I think you’re a liar, it’s more that I don’t trust what we have now is real. We’re not really engaged, and I think you’re confusing the giant wedding cake fairy tale with reality. I’m not saying that we can’t go back to the way things were, I’m only saying that we’re different people now, and maybe we should get to know each other for the people we are today versus the people that we remember.”

  “That’s fair.” It still hurt. She wasn’t willing to take a leap of faith and love him again. He guessed one leap of faith per relationship was all she had in her. Maybe it was time he went out on a limb. “I know you so well. You use facts to self-sooth. You like to order pickles on your hamburger but then take them off because you like the essence of pickle but not actually the pickle. You have a soft spot for romantic comedies but don’t let yourself see them because you believe that thinking with your heart makes you weak. You prefer nonfiction to fiction, with the exception of Harry Potter. People think you have your head in the clouds, but you sometimes don’t pay attention because your mind runs circles around everyone else’s. You never belittle those around you for their inferior intellect, and you honestly want them to understand everything the way you do. Learning how things work is what makes you tick. You like chocolate ice cream, movie theater popcorn, and Reese’s Pieces.” He smiled. “You love expensive lingerie and wear only the best—a cause I admire and fully support. You love rainbows but hate thunderstorms, have a fondness for daisies, and dislike carnations, and you loved me and I destroyed that.”

  He waited and waited and waited for her to say something. The silence was a snake coiling itself around his throat and choking the life out of him.

  “Your favorite color is royal blue, you like peanut butter and chocolate-hazelnut sandwiches with the crusts cut off, your sense of fair play has gotten you into trouble a time or two, you hate indecision, you were always shocked and grateful when I remembered your birthday.” Lyric opened her mouth to say more and then closed it. “I don’t know anything about you that isn’t something from our childhood. I should know more.” She looked like she was opening her mental notebook to start taking notes on his every move.

  “No, you shouldn’t. Your mind is too busy pondering the mysteries of the universe.” He knew he was right, but it hurt. She’d loved him and then forgotten him while he still remembered everything about her.

  “I know all of your favorite foods.” She pointed to last night’s grocery sack.

  That was something.

  “I remember that you usually face things head-on, which is odd because you avoided talking about football like the plague.” Her face screwed up in concentration. “See, I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

  “I’m still the same boy inside.” He wanted her to love him as much as he loved her.

  She sucked on her bottom lip and looked like she was weighing the pros and cons of something in her head. Slowly, she leaned over and kissed him. It wasn’t for show. This was the first kiss Lyric had given him because she wanted to. That had to mean something.

  * * *

  Chapter 26

  * * *

  Three days later, Heath was deep into his plot to make Lyric understand how much he loved her. On the day of their tree house talk, he’d borrowed Bowman’s old truck and taken her out to Dairy Queen. After, they’d fogged up the windows as they’d parked by the river. It was something he should have done with her in high school.

  On the day after, he’d given her a six-foot-tall glass heart filled with two hundred and sixty pounds—his body weight—of Hershey’s Kisses. She’d loved them so much and had felt that she needed to do something for him, so she’d given him a list of her online passwords.

  He liked to think that in Lyric-land, that was meaningful.

  And just this morning, he’d had a brand-new telescope delivered to her along with twelve dozen roses—a dozen for every year they’d been apart.

  She’d nominated him to be her post mortem Facebook page manager. Romance in Lyric’s world left a lot to be desired.

  It wasn’t the perfect courtship—what with Bowman still in the hospital—but it was pretty damn close in his opinion. Then again, anything that gave him a chance to touch and kiss and just be with Lyric was perfect to him.

  Which was why he was feeling so damn annoyed right about now. Especially since he was currently at the mercy of one of ESPN’s production assistants, a short little brunette who was insisting on running her hands all over his chest and back to place a simple microphone. He knew she was taking advantage of the situation—he’d worn a lot of mics
in his day. But if she was trying to garner some interest from him, she was out of luck. He wasn’t interested.

  How could he be when he had Lyric? She was the smartest, sexiest woman in the world, and he was damn lucky to have her. Now that they were finally together, there was no way he was going to mess it up because some production assistant wanted a shot at his Super Bowl rings.

  If he’d had his druthers, he wouldn’t even be doing this stupid interview with ESPN. Instead, he’d be back in bed with Lyric, exploring all the parts of her body he hadn’t yet gotten to. Or, to be more accurate, that he hadn’t gotten to for a fifth or sixth or seventh time.

  But business was business, and Dalton thought it was an excellent idea to parade his new offensive line coach (and ex-quarterback) in front of the media ASAP. And what better place to start than ESPN’s SportsCenter? If you’ve got it, flaunt it, after all.

  Special lights on poles surrounded the sofa as did half a dozen people with headsets, cups of coffee, and very important looks on their faces. Shelby Margate, anchor for SportsCenter, sat on the large dark-brown sectional in the Wrights’ living room, watching in amusement as Heath got felt up.

  They should have done the interview at his house—he’d feel more comfortable telling this girl to back off if he was in his own place. But he hadn’t wanted to give the crazies a roadmap to an empty house that he just happened to own, so the Wright house had seemed a solid second choice. Especially since it had always felt more like home than his own ever had.

  Livinia was beside herself with happiness at hosting a TV show and was parading around like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune, showing off for all she was worth. Harmony had been less impressed and was hiding out in the garage, and Lyric was at the kitchen table typing furiously on her laptop.

  He was pretty sure she’d noticed the camera crew, but he wouldn’t bet money on it. When she was in the work zone, the world around her faded away. He both admired and hated that about her. Admired it because her brain was sexy. Hated it because Work Zone meant no time for spontaneous sex during the day. He liked spontaneous sex—and planned sex and good sex and bad sex. Pretty much any time he got to see Lyric naked or partially naked was a good time for him.