by V. Vaughn
I remind myself this is temporary. A vacation of sorts. Some down time to get my mind right and heal my body. Even after a few days to adjust to the doctor’s diagnosis, I refuse to believe my career is finished. Mind over matter is my motto, and I won’t be defeated easily.
As I roll by Rita Mae’s, the town diner, with its classic red and white décor, I can’t help but think of Hillary. When I asked about her last, my brother Bruce told me she still works there.
I picture her leaning over the counter flashing me her cleavage, knowing exactly what it did to me, and I chuckle. Hillary was my high school sweetheart, and we were as clichéd as you can get. She was the head cheerleader, and I was the star quarterback. The both of us even lost our virginity to each other in the back of my truck. A truck that is still sitting in Bruce’s shed because I left on a plane determined to never drive it again in favor of the fancy car I was sure I’d buy. Hillary and I had quite a hot-and-heavy relationship as we both learned about sex. And love.
Despite being away for so long, I never stopped thinking about her. I still dream about her sometimes. In fact, if I’m being truthful with myself, I have to admit that I’ve missed Hillary every damn day I’ve been gone.
But I never called her. Oh, I picked up my phone a thousand times, my finger hovered over her number, itching to hit Call. But then I’d think better of it. It’s not that she wouldn’t have answered; it’s that she’d have bitten my head off when she did. She was furious when I chose my career over her and told me in colorful language what she thought of me and to never contact her again.
A smile covers my face as I recall what a spitfire she can be. I always knew where I stood with her. It was one of the things I’d loved—and still love—about her.
I don’t have many regrets, but leaving her is definitely one of them. I should have found a way to take her with me. Hell, I should’ve married Hillary the second we graduated from high school.
She loved me, and she would’ve gone wherever I had to go with a smile on her face and made the best of any difficult situation. But I was afraid she’d be too distracting. Hell, when she crooked her finger at me, I’d rush to her side drooling like Pavlov’s dog. What I didn’t realize then was that what we had was the real deal.
I slow down as I pass by, hoping to get a glance inside the diner. I want to stop and see her, and I’m tempted to turn around. But I’m afraid of how she’ll react. I really don’t want to get a slice of coconut cream pie smooshed in my face.
Might be worth it, though.
Stop! Go see her!
My bear is jumping around in my chest again. He’d been quiet during the drive, soaking in the fresh air of home. But now that we’re here, he’s wide awake and making demands. He’s a bossy bastard who tastes freedom again.
I want to see my mate! Now!
“She not our mate, dude. We ruined our chance with Hillary.”
Fool! Mates are together forever. Get your shit together and go see her. Now, asshole!
I waver, but it’s a token protest—I want the same thing. And since he’s right about the mate thing…
“Fine, but if we get hot coffee in the face, I’m blaming you.”
Ha! It won’t hurt me. Just you, stupid man.
I chuckle at him as I swing my bike around in a U-turn. I pull over and park in front of the diner. Once I lock up my helmet, I make my way to the door, where I pause. My hair is short, but since it’s been under a helmet for the last five hours, I think it’s likely stuck to my head with sweat, so I reach up to comb my fingers through it.
What are you? A girl?
“Shut up,” I mutter to my bear before I take in a deep breath, open the door, and walk in.
Once I’m inside, a strong sense of nostalgia hits me like an acid trip. So many memories crash into me—good ones that make me smile—as waves of familiar aromas fill my nose. I’ve missed this.
People I knew from years ago greet me as I walk through the place as if I haven’t been gone. The welcoming scents of coffee and home-baked goods have my bear at attention, and my stomach growls with hunger for it all.
“Well knock me over, is that Alec Thompson coming in my place?” Rita Mae wipes her palms on her red-and-white checkered apron, grinning at me. She reaches for my hand. “I can’t believe it. You are a sight for sore eyes, boy.”
“Hey, Miss Rita Mae.”
She pulls me in for a hug and I’m enveloped by her doughy arms and the scent of vanilla. “How are you?” she asks. “We sure enjoy watching you play every Sunday. You’re such a talent.”
Was such a talent. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing back here in Heartland?”
“Ah—I got a few days off from practice and thought I’d come home to see everyone.”
She frowns. “Well, your brother sure can keep a secret. He didn’t mention you were coming home when he was in here this morning.”
That’s because I didn’t tell him. I nod. “Bruce isn’t much of a talker.”
She chuckles. “No, he sure isn’t. Go grab that booth back there.” She winks at me. “It’s in Hillary’s section.”
“Oh,” I give Rita Mae a big smile because she’s had my number since I was a kid. She had a soft spot for Hillary and me together too. She didn’t even fire Hillary the time she found us making out in the walk-in cooler. “Thanks.” I move toward the table, but it takes a while to get there. People stop me to shake my hand and tell me how proud they are of me for my success or to ask questions about upcoming games or how my team will do this season.
I don’t have the heart to tell them about my injury or why I’m really home. I don’t want to disappoint them. The town showed a lot of support for me during my high school football career and when I got drafted. They even had a huge celebration in my honor.
When I finally get to sit down, I look around for the reason I came. The moment I spot Hillary near the counter talking to Rita Mae, my breath catches in my throat. Her blond ponytail shimmers in the light like she’s an angel, and that ass—my bear growls as he makes plans for it. I take in her shapely legs and the way her waist nips in just above her hips. Jesus, she’s even more beautiful than I remembered. The photos I’ve kept of her on my phone don’t do her justice. In person, she’s as stunning to me as any model. Not one of the groupies who used to follow me around—and they were some beautiful women—could ever compare to Hillary.
Once, I knew every inch of her. And I want to learn it all again. My bear is so excited to see her, to get to know her again, that he’s clawing at my insides, eager to shift and rush over to claim her.
Claim her.
I clench my fists on the table to stop the urge to shift.
“Stop it,” I say under my breath.
He settles down, but my skin prickles with his will to fight me, especially when Hillary walks up to my table.
I gaze up at her. Awestruck. My jaw drops open, and I know I must be gaping like a wide-mouth bass. She probably thinks I look like an idiot.
I am one. I must be, to have left her.
“Can I take your order?” she asks, her gaze not meeting mine as she holds her pen poised over the little notepad in her hand.
Ouch. You’ve got some serious ass-kissing to do. Wait. Forget the ass; that’s mine. But you’d better suck up to her, man.
Ouch is right. This is definitely not the welcome I expected. It’s not that I thought I’d get hugs and kisses, even if that idea did enter my mind, but I certainly didn’t expect indifference. I try to make eye contact with her, but she taps her pen impatiently on the pad as she glances around to look at anything else but me, so I say, “Ah—coffee.”
“Coffee,” she says in a flat voice before she shoves her notepad in her apron pocket. As she walks away to get my drink, I watch her, taking in everything about her. The scent of lemon trails behind her, and memories of holding her and inhaling the aroma fill me. I lift my nose to breath it in again, and my heart clenches as if it’s trying to
hold onto the sensation forever.
My bear is right. She’s my mate. I’d been a fool to think otherwise, and it hammers home what a huge mistake I made leaving her.
But Hillary is either so pissed off she can’t find the words to ream me out, or… she no longer cares. The second option makes my heart stop beating before my determination sets in. I’m going to find a way to win her heart again.
Winning is what I do. And not just at football. I need to make a plan, visualize it, and execute it. Because I need Hillary Raz in my life again, no matter how I make it happen.
Chapter 3
HILLARY
I lean against the wall in the kitchen with my hand over my heart, willing it to slow down. Alec. I let out a frustrated sigh. I thought I was over him. I should be over him, the bastard. After the way he left me for football and ruined a good year of my life, I shouldn’t feel a damn thing for the man.
But I do. The moment I saw him my insides turned to mush, and my bunny was ready to hop on over and into his lap. Well, straddle his lap, actually. There’s a reason it’s called fucking like bunnies.
I get it, though. Alec is looking fine with a capital F. The past five years of being a professional athlete has taken his already-hard body and made it bigger and better than before. I don’t have to be a bunny to want some of that.
But I can’t. It would be a huge mistake.
“Hillary!” The cook calls for me to pick up an order that’s ready.
I grab two plates and pause for a moment, knowing I have to go back into the dining room to deliver the meal. I’m afraid to go back out there, which is insane when I think about it. Once I climbed out of my depression over Alec leaving me, I became an adrenaline junky. I figured if I conquered every fear I had, nothing could ever hurt me again.
I’ve leapt out of airplanes, bungee jumped, went scuba diving with sharks, and even tried para gliding. But somehow facing the man who ripped out my heart and stomped on it is still too frightening.
“Hillary!” The cook yells, and not in a kind way this time.
I jump. “Right. Sorry.” I bump into the swinging door with my hip to enter the dining room.
I wish I’d had some warning Alec was coming home. I can’t believe he’s back in town. When he left all those years ago, I was sure that would be the last time I saw him unless I decided to watch any of his games on TV or picked up a sports magazine with his gorgeous face on the front. Which I didn’t. Not really, anyway. I didn’t actually buy the magazine or pay full attention to his games.
Who the hell does he think he is coming into my diner after all this time? I steal a glance over at his table to see he’s talking to a man and a small boy. I remember how good he is with children, and I think my ovaries sigh. Damn it. He’s got some nerve sitting there looking too hot for his own good as if nothing bad happened between us.
So much for burying that dead body. I thought I was so smart refusing to talk about him. I haven’t even shared that I dated Alec Thompson with my best friend Lexi. She moved here just after I began digging myself out of my depression, and she was a godsend. It was easy not to talk about Alec with someone who didn’t know we’d ever been involved.
The plates thump down a little harder than I intend when I set them down in front of two middle-aged women, and I quickly try to cover up my anger with a cheerful voice. “Enjoy! And remember, there are no calories in those. I took them out just for you!”
The women giggle as I walk away.
I didn’t even tell Lexi about Alec when she tried to set me up with his older brother Bruce a while back. She just thought I was being flighty about not wanting to date him. And I should have told her why, but seeing Bruce brought back feelings I wanted to keep locked away, and it was easier to just avoid the whole thing.
When I get back to the kitchen, I pace as I wonder how I can leave in the middle of a shift. Or how I’m going to bring Alec coffee and maintain control. I want to punch him, while my bunny wants to kiss him. I’m not sure who’ll win.
After my anxious third lap of the kitchen, Rita Mae steps in my way and asks, “What’s going on, Hillary? You okay?” She studies me. “You look pale.”
“You need some of my ravioli,” calls out Tony, the cook who was eavesdropping.
I smile at him and his attempt to help. “I do love your ravioli, but no, I’m not hungry.”
The last time I wasn’t hungry was… never. Rita Mae leaves us to deal with her hostess duties.
“Then what’s the problem?” Tony asks.
“My ex is in the dining room.” That sounds ridiculous. I’m so not the girl who gets all dramatic about a boy. Except when it comes to this one. Alec isn’t just any ex—he’s the ex.
Tony puffs out his chest. “Do you want me to get rid of him? I will. No problem. No questions asked.”
I shake my head but appreciate Tony’s urge to protect me. He’s been like that since I’ve known him. I figure it’s the wolf in him and that he considers me a part of his pack. And since he’s the alpha, he’s got the means to keep me safe from just about anyone.
“No, it’s not like that. Alec’s a good guy, actually, when he’s not dumping me and running off to be some big football star.”
He nods. “Ah, that ex.”
“You know about Alec?”
“Who doesn’t? He’s a big deal in Heartland.”
He’s a big deal everywhere, but I don’t say that out loud.
Oh God. Has everyone pitied me all this time and I didn’t even know it? “Everyone knows he dumped me all those years ago?”
Tony pats me on the shoulder. “No, not everyone knows about that. Rita Mae mentioned it a couple years ago, that he used to come in for your shift when you were in high school. She said you were the most adorable couple, and she’d thought for sure you two would get married.”
“So did I,” I say before I can stop myself. When I see Tony’s expression soften, I realize he’s pitying me. And that’s not what I want, so I paste on a smile. “Ancient history.” I place my hand on my chest. “You know what? He’s not even as cute as he used to be. I’m being silly.” I walk over to the coffee pot and grab it. “I’m fine.”
I push my way out of the kitchen and march over to Alec’s booth. I set the cup down in front of him hard enough that coffee sloshes over the side, and I don’t clean it up. There’s a napkin on the table; he can do it himself.
I put a hand on my hip and ask, “Are you ordering food? I recommend the ravioli.”
He looks up at me, wide-eyed, but there’s a slight twitch to his lips. Jerk. He finds me amusing. “Sure, I’ll take the ravioli.”
“Good.” I know I’m supposed to move now, go back to the kitchen and place the order. My brain is telling me to, but my feet won’t cooperate. My stomach does a few cartwheels, most likely from my bunny bouncing with happiness over seeing Alec again. Traitor.
She’s always had a mind of her own, but you’d think she’d have some respect for the human who houses her.
“So, how long are you back in town for?” Good, I tell myself. That’s good. Keep it casual. Like you don’t care.
But I do. And I hate it.
Licking his lips, he glances down at the table as if it’s suddenly interesting. “Not sure. A week, maybe two. I don’t know.”
Coward. So typical that he’s given me some noncommittal answer instead of just telling me the truth. He’s breezing through town like a motorboat to leave me sputtering in the wake. The only thing he’s ever committed to is football.
But I figure I’ll be polite. High road and all that. “I hear your team’s been winning. They say you’re good.”
Nodding, he wipes at the coffee spill with the napkin. “I do all right.”
Jeez. I can get the shy dishwasher to say more. If Alec didn’t want to talk, why in hell did he come into my diner?
“Uh-huh. Okay. I guess I’ll just get that ravioli for you then.” I begin to walk away.
“Wait.”
“Um, how are you doing?”
I shrug. “I’m fine. I still work here, obviously. But it’s good. It keeps me busy all day and keeps my bunny calm.”
His grin comes slow and easy, and I recall the smirk he’d give me when I’d pretend I didn’t want to fool around. I nearly melt into a puddle in front of him. And his eyes, they appear wiser than I remember, but they’re still pools of blue a girl can drown in. Why does he have to be sexier than I remember?
I suppose it’s because he’s a man now, not a teenager. Not only did his shoulders get broader, but his face has filled out and the stubble on his cheeks is full now. When I breath in I recognize his odor. It’s richer that it used to be, heavier, as if he’s got even more testosterone than he had before.
And it’s winding its way through me like a soft, sensual caress. My rabbit rubs her teeth together in her version of a purr, and the sound is faint. But not faint enough Alec doesn’t hear it, because his bear makes a low rumble that comes from his chest.
He meets my gaze. His voice drops in tone as mischief lights up his eyes. “Your bunny still a handful?”
He knows exactly what my bunny wants right now, just like I’m sure his bear has the same idea. And god help me, I’m on board with the plan. I want to lean down and kiss him senseless.
I can’t of course, and I pull up the memory of crying so hard over my heartbreak my eyes were nearly swollen shut to make me focus on polite conversation instead. “Yes. She still makes me a bundle of spastic energy. People say they wish they could bottle it.”
“You’re much more than that, Hillary.” Alec nearly whispers the next words, but I hear them loud and clear. “So much more to me.”
He’s got a lot of nerve waltzing in here and bringing up the past. Making me remember the way he used to love me. I bite down on my lower lip so I won’t shout at him. Or cry.
I don’t want to fall for him all over again. I can’t. But I think just did.