The Storm You Chase (Hell Yeah!)

by Sable Hunter

  At her side, Clint stood to his feet. “Let me get you a cup of coffee as a peace offering. Okay?”

  Before she could say yay or nay, he was off. Letting out a long breath, Jensen laid her head on the table.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked up to see Tennessee McCoy standing over her, the tips of his fingers resting in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Oh, yea. I’m good.” She gave him a bright smile. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Joseph told me you wanted to switch partners. Did Clint do something to offend you?”

  “No.” The last thing she wanted was to give anyone the idea he’d done something wrong. “No. He’s fine. It’s me. With the injuries I see every day in my line of work, I just have a built-in frustration with healthy young men who choose to jeopardize their health and life by doing something so dangerous as playing football.”

  Ten looked thoughtful. “I think I understand how you feel, but you need to realize there’s more to Clint than football.”

  Jensen felt a sense of remorse creeping over her. “I know and I’ll try to get my head in the game. There’s stuff going on at work.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I apologize. Clint and I will keep what’s between us – between us.” There was so much she couldn’t and wouldn’t explain to anyone. The undeniable, yet impossible, attraction she felt for Clint was one thing…and the other was her own personal storm ever looming on the horizon.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He gave her a smile. “You’re both adults and professionals, I know you’ll work together for the good of the program.”

  “Yes. We will.” Properly chastised she nodded as Clint rejoined them.

  “Here you go, Jensen.” He placed the cup of coffee with a stir stick on the table in front of her, along with a couple of packets of creamer and sugar. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it, so I brought options. Ten, do you want a cup?”

  “No, thanks.” Ten smiled and pointed across the room. “I’m headed that way to deliver a message.”

  When he was gone, Jensen doctored her coffee. “Thanks, Clint.” She didn’t look at him this time, just stared into the caramel colored depths of her cup.

  “No problem.”

  “Can we call a temporary truce?”

  “Temporary?” He lifted one amused eyebrow.

  She counted to three, then spoke. “Since we’ve been thrown together, can we just keep things light between us and concentrate on doing the best we can with this project?”

  Pretending to ponder her proposal, Clint’s eyes roved over her adorable face. “Light it is. Let’s just do what we came here to do.” He didn’t know what their time together would bring – but he knew it wouldn’t be boring.

  They drank their coffee in silence until Tanner clapped his hands. “Everyone, outside! Find your starting points and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  “All right, let’s go!” Clint stood to his feet. “I thrive on competition.”

  With paper in hand, Jensen scanned down the directions they were required to follow. “Walk 80 paces along a bearing of 95 degrees. Walk 40 paces along a bearing of zero degrees – and on and on.”

  “Quit reading and let’s start walking. We’ve got to win this thing.”

  She picked up her pack and followed him out, seeing the other men taking off in varying directions. “Being first is not the most important thing, Clint. We’re supposed to be learning something.”

  “If being first wasn’t a thing, there wouldn’t be a prize.” Clint held up his compass to head in the direction indicated. “Pick up the pace, Mistretta.”

  She did her own checking, then fell into step with him. “Are you counting the steps?”

  “Yep.”

  “Our strides don’t compare. My legs are too short.”

  “Your legs are perfect.” Clint stated plainly. “In fact, the shock of seeing you stole my manners.” He gave her a glance. “You look absolutely beautiful today.”

  Being careful of her step, she glanced down at the no frills jeans and red top she wore. “I think that’s a stretch, Wilder.” She tried to ignore the way her heart raced at his compliment. “I was a little surprised to find out you’re related to the McCoys.”

  Clint scoffed and grinned. “Believe me, so were we. How long have you been friends with Libby?”

  “Since the week I arrived. Scott and Lia are good friends with Libby and Aron. He introduced us one day when she stopped at the clinic to leave something for Lia.”

  “Right. Scott was Aron’s doctor. I’ve heard the story about his time in Mexico. He was given some type of a drug which gave him temporary amnesia.”

  “That’s an oversimplification, I think, but yes.” As she stepped over a log, Clint reached out to steady her. “So, your mother is a McCoy?”

  “Yes. I’m proud for her. She’s always dreamed of finding her real family.”

  “Was she given up for adoption or something?” Jensen knew it wasn’t her business, but he seemed willing to discuss the matter.

  Clint held up the compass and changed the angle of their path. “This way. No, she was just a few weeks old when she was snatched out of her stroller. One of triplets, the kidnapper took the girl and left the two boys. My mother ended up with an unscrupulous lawyer who sold her to a childless couple.”

  “How tragic. I bet her mother and father were devastated.”

  “They ended up blaming one another and divorcing over the situation. Each one took one of the boys to raise. They agreed not to tell the children about one another, to save the whole family pain, I suppose.”

  “Wouldn’t that just make everything worse?”

  “There were long-reaching repercussions, that’s for sure. My uncles, Christian and Sebastian, only found one another a few years ago. Together, they solved the mystery of why they were kept separate all those years. Unfortunately, Sebastian and his wife were killed in a flashflood not too long after the discovery. Uncle Christian, however, didn’t stop looking until he found us.” He glanced over at Jensen to gauge her reaction. Seeing she was listening intently with a sympathetic look on her face, he continued, “The idea of our kinship with the McCoys wasn’t as easy for me to accept as it was for the rest of my family.”

  “Why is that?” Jensen was keeping count of the paces as they walked. Knowing he was into his story; she touched his arm to tell him when the time came to veer in another direction.

  Feeling her fingers on his skin drew his attention to the matter at hand. “This isn’t the time for such talk. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’ve got this.” She held up the paper. “Finish what you were saying.”

  “I guess I had a harder time accepting the news because I’m used to being the one who the rest of my family relies on.” Clint let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Voicing those words makes me realize how shallow I’ve become. I guess I need to be needed.”

  “I think I understand what you’re saying.”

  “And?”

  She stopped to check her compass. “Sounds like a bunch of bull to me.”

  Clint couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you say that?”

  “It sounds like you’re a good brother. You might be a little jealous of their attention, but that’s allowed.” She looked around at the thick pine forest they were traversing through. “Walk 56 paces along a bearing of 225 degrees. Okay, let’s go.”

  Clint lifted his head to feel the sun on his face. “Let me do the next two or I won’t learn anything from this experience.”

  “Okay.” Jensen handed over the paper. “Our path seems to be getting more rugged. Let’s check our route.”

  Clint studied the map. “There appears to be a 165-foot elevation change. Looks like there’s some rough terrain ahead. Should we plot an alternative route?”

  “I don’t know.” She took the map back to look closer. “Why don’t we get to the top of the hill so we can see what lies between us and our goal? It might not be as bad as it looks on
paper.”

  “Or it might be worse.”

  Jensen sighed. “You’re such an optimist.”

  “I really am.” He took a good look around them. The loblolly pine trees grew so dense he could only see a few dozen yards in the distance. One to two-foot tall underbrush made walking a challenge. Adding to the difficulty of finding a safe path up the steep incline were sharp rocks which protruded up from the ground like jagged teeth. “Okay. Follow me.”

  “Follow you?” She surged forward. “Why don’t you follow me? I’m the one with the map.”

  “To the ends of the earth, Columbus.” Clint hoisted his pack and fell into step behind her, admiring the way her jeans hugged her shapely bottom. “To tell you the truth, the view is actually better back here.”

  “Can it, Wilder.” Sandy soil and pine needles underfoot made the going slippery in places. Jensen focused on where to put her feet so she wouldn’t slide backward down the hill.

  “If you’re having trouble, I could carry you.”

  His offer struck her as so ridiculous she laughed – just as she lost her footing…and slid back into Clint. “Ah, no…”

  “Gotcha!” Happy to oblige, he anchored his feet, steadying them both. He couldn’t help but be amazed at the intense feeling of relief he felt to have her in his arms.

  Jensen didn’t fuss, it was her fault, but she did pull away from him as soon as she regained her balance. “You can stop playing the hero. I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

  Feeling her response didn’t match the circumstances, Clint had to ask, “Why are you such a prickly pear? Is it just me or do you have it in for all men?”

  Prickly pear? The label probably fit, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. “Are you asking if I’m a lesbian?”

  “No, I know you’re not into women. You respond to me like a damn dream.”

  Jensen didn’t want to think about that. “Come on. We’re almost at the top.”

  “You don’t like to think about your attraction to me, do you?”

  Taking big gulps of oxygen, Jensen wouldn’t admit he was responsible for her shortness of breath. “Let’s save our oxygen and just walk.”

  He glanced at her reddened face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not too hot?”

  “I’m fine.” Actually, she felt a little sick. Damn medication. She continued to push herself as the top of the hill came into view. “You have such a busy, full life. I’m surprised you decided to take on more responsibility.”

  Clint was watching her tentative steps closely. “Let’s stop a minute. I need some water.” Actually, he didn’t, but he was afraid she might. “Here. Drink.” He handed her his canteen. “I guess I’ve always wanted to be the guy who arrives at the scene of a disaster and rushes in to save the day.”

  “As opposed to the guy who rushes in to forcibly crash his body violently into another human being just because he’s holding a pigskin sphere?”

  “Wow. How long have you been saving that one up?” Clint waited for her to drink, then tucked the canteen back into his backpack. “Do you hate all sports?”

  Jensen set her eye on the last few yards left to reach the summit. “No. I just prefer a sport that actually requires a talent, not just brute force. Frankly, football is immoral and we as a society should demand it be brought to extinction.”

  “Immoral? Extinction? Those are strong words.” She wasn’t kidding either, he could tell by the set of her kissable mouth.

  “Not really. People who enjoy football derive pleasure from watching players put themselves in undue risk.” She waved her hand in the air. “It’s basically the same as eating foie gras, which necessitates the senseless torture of ducks.”

  “Ducks?” Clint chuckled. He wasn’t sure he was following her, but he sure did love to see the excitement on her face. He just wished she would direct some of that passion toward him. “Explain.”

  “Okay. Basically, football shortens lives. The game kills the people who play it. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It doesn’t kill all who play it.”

  She cut him a hard glance. “How many is too many? The players are tempted by huge amounts of money to put themselves at risk – not for our safety like a fireman or a police office, not to acquire something society needs like a fisherman or a deep sea oil rig welder, not for our freedom like a soldier, not for any good reason other than our entertainment.” She emphasized the last word with conviction. “Honestly, football fans are like the Romans who cheered as gladiators fought to the death.”

  “Well, football is safer today that it ever has been. There are new rules in place, better equipment…”

  “Not enough. Not nearly enough!” She sliced her hand through the air. “Besides, don’t you think I’ve analyzed those things to death?”

  As they topped the hill, Clint checked his compass and the map, then peered into the distance. There were some sharp hills and gullies ahead, but nothing they couldn’t handle. “I think we can stay the course. Don’t you?”

  “I think so. Yes.” She took a deep cleansing breath, ready to change the subject as they started down the peak, choosing their steps carefully.

  “Actually, I think I might switch positions and play tight end.”

  “That would be a mistake.”

  “Oh really?” He chuckled. “I know you are well versed in safety issues, but I don’t think you understand the game.” If Clint were thinking clearer, he would’ve never voiced such a blanket statement. As soon as he shut his mouth, he realized he’d just uttered fighting words as far as she was concerned. “Wait…”

  “No, you wait, and I’ll explain.” She clutched the straps of her backpack tightly as they tromped forward. “Switching to tight end is a bad idea. I doubt you could run a proper slant route.”

  To say he was taken aback was a definite understatement. “What do you know about a slant route?”

  “From what I’ve seen of you, you’re muscle-bound, but not really that quick on your feet.”

  Clint felt her gaze rove over him as if it were a physical touch. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”

  “You just run over people. I doubt you’d be in the right spot by the time the quarterback made his three-step drop and lobbed a ball to the back of the end zone for you.”

  “Okay, so you do know football.”

  “And football players. First-hand experience.” Jensen continued unprompted. “Always on the road. Leaving your wife to worry every time you take the field and all because you’re chasing a little bit of glory that will leave your body broken. Your children are never allowed to visit during the season because you’re playing for some league in the middle of nowhere for next to no money.”

  Clint kept up with her. He was listening, but also watching their path. “Is that what your dad did to you and your mom?”

  “He did. Football stole everything from us. My father never put his family first. He wasn’t even faithful to my mother. He sacrificed everything for a damn game that stole his life. Before he died at fifty-five years old, he was walking with a cane. He could barely think, Clint. He forgot the simplest things. He was erratic. Violent at times.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said with true sincerity.

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t be like him. Stop playing that senseless, stupid game.”

  “I am not your father.” Clint grated out the words through clenched teeth.

  “You choose to play. Even after knowing the facts and the risks. You choose to play.” Her tone was accusatory.

  “People like you are making medical advances all the time.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him as their pace quickened. “You got your damn bell rung the last game of the season. How many more times will that have to happen before you wake up and realize you’re putting your life and future at risk?”

  Clint was digesting the idea that she’d watched him play when Jensen let out a loud, panicked shriek. “What’s wrong?” Immediately on the ale
rt, he looked ahead on the trail, trying to see what upset her so.

  “Skunk!” Jensen moved so fast, she levitated, spinning in midair like an ice skater. Before he could think twice, she’d launched herself right into arms, knocking them both to the ground.

  Absorbing their fall, Clint cradled her close. “Easy, baby.” He set her gently aside and rose to place himself between her and danger. He tried to hide the smile that came to his lips at the sight of a tiny skunk blocking their path. “Well, look a here – if it isn’t that random skunk whose company you prefer to mine.”

  “Oh, shut up. Just make it go away.” Gently setting her aside, Clint rose to wave his arms, attempting to shoo the tiny animal away. The only problem? The polecat didn’t seem interested in leaving.

  “Is it gone?”

  “Not exactly.”

  As Jensen watched, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Instead of running from Clint, the skunk was approaching him. “What does he want?”

  “She.” Clint backed up, but the striped animal followed. “It has to be a she. Look at those lovesick eyes.”

  “Do you think it’s rabid?” Jensen asked as she backed slowly away to a safe place behind a large boulder.

  “I don’t think she is. She doesn’t seem aggressive.”

  “Maybe she just wants to be friends.”

  “Dang it, Pepe. I’m not interested. Okay?”

  Jensen couldn’t help but laugh as Clint did his best to evade the friendly animal. To their relief, it didn’t seem interested in spraying them. It just seemed to want Clint’s attention. “Are you wearing cologne?”

  “No,” he managed to answer. “Just some new kind of soap.”

  “Well, I think you’ve found the perfect scent to attract the ladies.”