His words were friendly, but his tone sharp. A delicious threat. A combustible command that smoldered inside my chest until we met back up at the pub a little while later. The fire in his steely blue eyes then as they coursed over me set off the explosion inside of me, radiating from my fingertips to my toes.
“You look good,” he finally said after I’d greeted the rest of the coaches, who were spread out in the few open spaces available in this big crowd.
“It’s just jeans and a sweater,” I told him, glad I’d thought ahead to bring a change of clothes to my office, and even more that I’d smeared on ruby-red lipstick with Gram’s voice in my head: If you don’t wear red, you might as well be dead.
My gram, God rest her soul. She’d died right after I graduated college, and we’d spent a good ten years before that fighting over my hair and makeup.
I’d never got that line until now, sandwiched between Connor and the bar. He licked his bottom lip, a tease, and grazed his thumb on my hip, a promise.
“Beauty queen.”
“Stop.” I rolled my eyes and twisted around to gesture to Blake, who was busy behind the bar. He saw me and smiled as he finished up serving another patron before coming to stand in front of me.
“Packed tonight,” I said.
He regarded the masses with a proud grin. “Yep.” He knocked on the dark wood of the bar. “What can I get for your birthday drink?”
“Who told you?”
He raised his eyebrow, the answer obvious.
“Piper can’t keep a secret.”
He chuckled. “You’re telling me. So, what’ll it be?”
“Two fingers of your best bourbon over ice.”
“Hey now,” a guy said next to me. I dropped my attention from Blake to a man sitting on a stool, his shaggy hair combed to one side, wearing a maroon blazer. Narcissism dripped from his bright white smile. “Bourbon? My kind of girl.”
He did look good, in a GQ fashion kind of way, but he wasn’t my kind of guy.
“I’m sure you’ll find one of them around here somewhere,” I said, angling away from him.
“Stone cold.” GQ pouted in a way he probably assumed was sexy.
It was not.
Connor’s arm slid behind my back to rest his hand on the bar next to me. “You want to sit down?”
He motioned to the stool in front of him that had appeared out of nowhere, seeing as there were none available moments ago. I sat, and he immediately moved, blocking out GQ’s access to me. I didn’t mind. Connor was my kind of guy, ratty baseball hat and all.
Blake slid a glass of amber liquid to me as bodies rustled behind us. Bear parted the crowd, followed by Sonja and Piper.
“It’s crazy in here tonight,” Sonja said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. Piper followed suit, then crooked a finger in a tiny wave to Blake, who practically lay across the bar for a kiss.
Bear high-fived me. “Giblet, how’s it going?”
“Good.” I pointed to his ever-growing beard. “Going for a Paul Bunyan vibe?”
He tugged at the hair on his face before taking off his knit hat to reveal the mess of hair on his head. “My family is from Bemidji.”
“Be-what?”
Connor shook his head. “Bemidji.” He picked up the beer bottle Blake had placed next to him. “It’s supposedly where Paul Bunyan is from.”
I nodded, my attention on Piper as she fished a single cupcake from her purse. She handed the plastic container to me, saying, “It’s carrot cake.”
“My favorite.” Truly touched, I almost didn’t want to open it and ruin the fancy icing, but Piper pulled out a candle and lighter. My cheeks started to burn in embarrassment. “You’re really going to make me do that?”
“Of course,” she said, grinning. She took the cupcake out of my hands and set it all up on the bar, lighting the wick. “Make a wish.”
I hesitated, and glanced around at the five people surrounding me. Friends in a place that made this city feel like home after years of going it alone, they were my wish. I closed my eyes, not to make a wish but to thank God for them, before blowing out the candle. They all clapped. Normally I’d have been self-conscious about the attention, but I wasn’t with them. Until Connor bent to my ear and whispered, “Happy birthday.”
I picked up my glass, trying to ignore the flush I felt coloring my neck and face. “Cheers, everyone.”
They all clinked glasses and bottles to mine, but Bear was the one to point it out. “You’re all red.”
I touched my fingers to my cheek. “It’s the amount of people, I think.”
Connor stepped closer to me, his torso pressing lightly against my back, and I knew he’d done it on purpose. The bastard knew it’d throw me off.
I couldn’t pay attention to any of the conversations around me. Not to Piper talking about opening up her dream brewery next month, not to Sonja explaining how she needed to win her next fight to get on the Olympic team, and especially not to Bear rambling on about his reading of Jack Kerouac.
After finishing my drink, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and was both relieved and disappointed to be away from the solid wall of Connor behind me. It’d been four days since we’d had any physical contact that was more than a fist bump or an elbow to the side, and the mere hint of anything else felt earth-shattering. The unspoken understanding of what was to happen had made me hyperaware of him, and with the loss of his contact, I felt overexposed.
I spent an extra minute in front of the mirror, finger-combing my hair over my shoulders as some form of cover. But I couldn’t camouflage the flush of my cheeks or my bright eyes, and when I opened the door, he was there.
I couldn’t hide anything from him.
“Are you following me or something?”
Instead of answering, he pushed off the brick and leaned over me, forcing my back against the wall, my head tilting up. His thumb dragged along my lower lip.
“Red like a lollipop. Did you wear this for me?”
His hand spread over my jaw and neck, trapping me. One of the things I liked best about Connor was his size—not that he was much taller than me, but he made me feel petite, feminine. He made me feel wanted.
“I think you did,” he said.
I wouldn’t confirm or deny, but the way he looked like he could eat me made me want to wear it every day. I’d happily sacrifice myself to the Big Bad Wolf.
“What big eyes you have,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, closing the tiny distance between us. My lips barely brushed against his when I said, “What big teeth you have.”
“Hmm?”
“Little Red Riding Hood.”
He pulled back to look at me, not understanding. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor.”
“At least I have one,” I said, and pressed a small, chaste kiss on the center of his mouth. The spark of a fire.
Then his hands tangled in my hair, and mine tugged on the waistband of his pants. Those teeth of his scraped against my lower lip, and if I died from his attack I’d be okay with that.
“You think you’re about ready to get out of here?” he asked, one hand inching up under my sweater.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
“Begging already?” I felt his smile against my throat.
“I’m leaving now.” I swallowed, forcing my eyes open. “Meet me at my house in twenty.”
I ducked around him, not even making eye contact to be sure of this arrangement. My single goal was to get home as quickly as possible. The crowd had thinned out since it was closing in on midnight, and I beelined to the group. I grabbed my coat. “I’m going to head out.”
“Already?” Bear pointed his thumbs down.
“I’m too old to be staying out late.”
“You sound like Sonja,” Piper said.
Sonja shrugged, unaffected, as she placed her water with lemon on the bar. “Speaking of. I think I’ll head home too.”
I stopped her. “Are you sure? You should stay, hav
e fun. You’ve been working hard lately.”
“Exactly,” she said, looping her arms into her coat. “I’m ready to sleep for ten hours.”
I panicked. Sonja being home wasn’t part of the game plan. “Oh, um, okay.” Connor reappeared at my side, and I stared at him, hoping he’d get my mental message. “Sonja’s leaving too.”
He slung his jacket on. “That makes three, then.” With one single raise of his brows, he looked at me. “I’ll see you later.”
He changed the play with his audible.
CHAPTER
21
Connor
Despite protests, I left without much more than a few words to Blake, Bear, the girls, and the coaches. I had somewhere to be.
And I knew she’d follow.
For the first time ever, I’d used the contact saved in my phone and texted Charlie my address. She arrived minutes after me, and like the bastard I was, I didn’t even say hello before I hauled her to me. We made it exactly four steps to the couch, our clothes only two.
I’d like to say I took my time, that it was romance all the way, but that didn’t happen. I skipped all the good stuff and went right for the score. Charlie didn’t seem to mind though.
No, she was right there with me, sloppy kisses and even sloppier hands. It was over in minutes, and we sat splayed out, limbs draped loosely over each other. A blanket hung limply over our naked bodies, hardly providing any coverage. But again, she didn’t care, a lazy smile crossing her face.
With her head against the cushion, she turned to me, her finger lifting up a few inches. “Nice place you got here.”
I swiped a palm down my face.
“Oh, look. A ficus.”
I followed her gaze to the tall fake tree in the corner of the living room.
“You have a china cabinet.” She sat up, the blanket dropping off of her chest. “You have actual china too. Why? Hosting lots of fancy parties?”
I slanted my eyes away to the blank TV. “People have china.”
“I know. But why do you?”
“Why not?”
She snorted. “Because you’re you. You’ve got calluses on your hands and wear baseball hats and jeans with holes in them. You spend most of your time at school, and I’m sure when you come home you always use the same plate and fork for your bland grilled-chicken dinner. You don’t use fine china.”
After the whirlwind we’d just had, I wasn’t ready for her inquisition or her acute description of my life. I’d expected something different, something not so . . . personal. And my defenses went up. “Hey, you’re in my house. Isn’t it bad manners to ask your host so many questions?”
Her mouth snapped shut, her cheeks red for a reason other than me, and I immediately wanted to swallow my words back.
“Okay,” she said, grabbing her sweater from the floor.
“Charlie, I’m sorry—”
“No.” She held up her shoe, pointing it at me. “Don’t.”
I slipped my pants on, an odd juxtaposition with trying to keep her from getting dressed to leave. “Can you hold on a second?”
“No, Connor, I can’t wait a second.” She buttoned up her coat, the snaps echoing the anger in her words. “I get that this is our relationship, the arguing and the digs. It’s all in good competition. But as soon as I think we’re moving beyond that, you remind me we can’t. There is no substance with you, only surface-level crap. So I’m leaving now.” She turned on her heel, opening my front door with a curt, “Thanks for the fuck.”
When it slammed, I sat back on the couch. It was still warm from her body. My skin still burned from the scratches of her nails. And I was still a bastard.
I raked my hands over my head and made a game-time decision. I jumped up and ran after her, needing to apologize or try to explain, but I made it to the sidewalk just in time to see her taillights take off down the street. “Damn it.”
I truly hadn’t meant to be rude. It was just that explaining the china cabinet, or the light fixtures, or the color of the cabinets couldn’t be done without bringing up Alison. And that was one subject I never talked about. Instead of telling her that sad, sorry tale, I’d done what I was good at: I deflected.
I wasn’t good at making phone calls, and even worse at texting, so I hoped I’d be able to explain things to her face-to-face. My first opportunity was Monday morning in the weight room—but for the first time in weeks, she didn’t show up, and I felt lost. I didn’t have relationships for this reason. They were hard. Confusing. Emotionally draining.
But I’d do it. I’d do it for Charlie.
On my lunch, I ran out to Caribou Coffee to get her one of the fancy coffees she liked. I figured it couldn’t hurt to sweeten her up with sugar, but by the time lunch duty rolled around, it was cold.
She turned her nose up. “What’s this?”
“A gift.” I held it up until she took it. “An apology.” When she didn’t drink the coffee, I offered a suggestion. “I know it’s not hot anymore, and I know I screwed up the order, but I figured you could put it over some ice. You like iced coffee, right?”
She nodded begrudgingly, and plunked the cup down on the empty table next to her. I had an uphill battle.
“How come you weren’t working out this morning?”
“I didn’t feel like it, and you can stop trying to get me to talk. I’m not giving you the silent treatment, if that’s what you expected.”
I played with my tie. I didn’t expect anything, and that was the God’s honest truth. All of this was new to me.
“Okay,” I said. A few minutes passed before I tried again. “Sean has your picture in a frame in his bedroom.”
She dropped her arms from where they were wrapped around her waist, and stared at me with such bored annoyance that she actually made me wish I hadn’t said anything. Usually people were mad at me for not talking. But now she glared at me for talking.
The confusion never ended.
“This is what I don’t get about women. You get mad at us for not doing a thing, then we do the thing, and you get mad at us for doing the thing. It’s like . . .” I rolled my hands around each other.
“Don’t blame women for your idiocy. I have never gotten mad at you for anything other than being yourself, which is a dick knob.”
I glanced around, checking for any ears listening before I looked back at her. “They might be able to hear you cursing.”
“Please.” She put her palm up to me. “You know the mouths these kids have. Worse than mine.”
It was obvious I was getting nowhere, but I tried one last time. “I think you look really pretty today.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away toward a group of volleyball players. She didn’t speak to me directly for the rest of the day, but I didn’t give up.
Tuesday morning, I left her a bag of Skittles on her desk. At lunch, she gave the bag back to me.
“I don’t like Skittles.”
“What? No. I saw you eating them.”
She shook her head. “No. M&M’s I’m addicted to. Not Skittles.”
I took them back, frustrated.
“Second and ten,” she said, and I smiled. Her words meant I had two more chances.
Wednesday she made a return to the weight room. I was prepared, just in case, with Britney already playing and a donut. I showed her the pink-iced “breakfast.”
She didn’t take it. “Why food?”
“Hmm?” I didn’t understand the question.
“Why do you think I want food?”
A few seconds passed before I said, “I’m trying to apologize.”
“But why with this? What makes you think I want a donut, or candy, or coffee?”
“Because you like it.” But my voice rose in a question, and she shook her head, a soft laugh breaking through.
“Bless your heart.”
“What? I’m trying to do something nice for you. I’m being nice!”
“Yes,” she said, backing away from me to stan
d by a bench. “Anyone can bring me candy. I don’t want that from you.”
“What do you want then?”
She kept her eyes on me as she loaded a plate on the bar. “Third down.”
I went home that night wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. I had one more chance to prove to her I wasn’t the inept asshole she thought I was. I opened my refrigerator to retrieve the portioned meal I’d already prepared of chicken, sweet potatoes, and broccoli.
I hated that Charlie knew details about me without trying and I couldn’t do the same for her. She didn’t try to figure them out. She had just known. Things that I’d never told her. She could read my face when no one else could.
I microwaved my dinner and grabbed a fork, remembering how she’d said I ate with the same fork and plate all the time. But she was wrong, I owned more than one plate. I ate off of, probably, four.
God, she was irritating.
I sat down in the living room to watch TV while I ate, but a colorful card on the table snagged my attention. I put my food down to pick up the invitation, reading it over. When Sean had given it to me, he’d looked just as nervous as he did every year. As if I wouldn’t go. But I’d never miss out on something so important to my brother as the annual costume bash.
That was when I realized what Charlie wanted. To be included. It would be hard to let her into my life, but I could try, because she was important. The affection that had grown between us felt big, at least to me.
I waited until after practice on Thursday, after all the players and coaches had gone and only Charlie was left. She was tapping a green marker on her desk as she watched film on her computer. When I knocked on the doorframe, she didn’t lift her head. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
That made her look up. She waved me in and sat back in her chair. “What can I do for you, Coach McGuire?”
I placed the invitation on her desk and pushed it toward her with one finger. “You’re cordially invited to the annual Halloween party for the MPLS Adult Education Program.”
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