Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1)

by T. K. Rapp

  I grabbed my papers and laptop, stuffed them into my bag, and hurried out the door to head to Grace’s. I needed her pep talk. I needed her to calm me.

  ***

  “So you’re going out with him tonight?” Grace asked from behind her couch when we finished the tour of Cleo’s newly redecorated bedroom.

  My sister was always worried about what I was doing with my free time. She’d met my brother-in-law, Trevor, in high school and they’d been together ever since. None of us were surprised when they married at twenty, before they finished college. They were in love and nothing would stop them. They’d waited until they graduated before starting their family. When little Cleo made her entrance two years ago, I don’t think I’d seen either of them as happy as they were in that moment.

  “Yep.” I smiled at her before giving my full attention back to Cleo, who was running around the kitchen chasing the dog Skip.

  “And he’s taking you to Metropolis?” she asked, handing me a towel to dry the platter she washed.

  “Yep.” I grinned, setting it down before chasing after Cleo, who was laughing hysterically. I caught her and lifted her in the air, blowing on her tummy.

  “Okay, what gives? You’re holding out on me, I know it. Why didn’t you tell me about this the other night? What does he look like?”

  “He’s pretty good-looking,” I offered.

  “Are we talking boy-next-door cute? Exotic hot? Model sexy? C’mon, Dani, fill me in,” she whined.

  “I don’t know how to describe him. I tried telling Millie about him, but I couldn’t find the words. He’s just…beautiful,” I sighed. “But not at all the type I’d typically go for.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Suit-and-tie guy, I guess.”

  “Different is good.” Grace sat on a barstool and angled her body to face me. “So what’s he like?”

  “In the brief time I talked with him, he’s really nice. And funny. The guy doesn’t know me at all, but he was so easy to joke around with and tease.”

  “Okay, okay, so he’s got a great personality,” she droned. “What does he look like?”

  “Dude is built like a damn football player. He’s huge! I mean, seriously has to be like six three or something. And then there’s like muscles…everywhere,” I told her, using my hands to describe his build.

  “How would you know what a football player looks like?” she teased.

  “Just because I don’t follow the sport doesn’t mean I don’t know what one would look like.”

  “Okay, so the guy sounds pretty great,” she sighed.

  “Tabor,” I said, returning my attention to Cleo.

  “Tabor?” Grace repeated.

  “Yeah. That’s his name.” I glanced up for a moment and saw this weird look on her face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head and tried to play it off.

  “Don’t ‘nothing’ me, Gracie…I know that look!”

  She stared at me blankly and panic surged through my body.

  “Oh hell, did you date a Tabor or something? I don’t remember a Tabor.”

  “No. It’s just…well, you said he’s built like a football player?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “And his name is Tabor?”

  “Gracie! What the hell?” I all but shouted. Had Cleo not been right there, the language would have been more colorful. “You know, I came here for the old Gracie pep talk…but I have to say, you’re failing miserably. I think I’m more nervous than when I got here. Thanks a lot.”

  “Give me one second. Okay?” She jumped up and disappeared from the kitchen, leaving me with Cleo.

  “Your mommy’s losing it,” I whispered to my niece.

  Cleo bobbed her head up and down as if she understood what I was saying, and I laughed. “Momma cwazey.”

  “Yeah, you know it too, don’t you?” I answered.

  “Mommy isn’t that crazy,” Gracie said as she entered the room with her laptop in hand. “His last name wouldn’t happen to be Hunter, would it?”

  My eyes widened at the name and she had my full attention. She waved me over and I scurried to my feet, sitting next to her with the computer on the counter. There were tons of tiny thumbnail pictures of football players, but I still wasn’t following.

  “Okay, just because I said he’s built like a football player doesn’t mean you and Trevor are going to get me to watch the damn sport, Gracie.”

  She ignored me and clicked on a link that brought up a larger image, and my heart stopped.

  The eyes. The smile. The build. All of it was the man I’d met only days before and I was stunned into silence.

  “That’s Tabor,” I whispered, unable use my full voice.

  “That’s JT Hunter, Dani. Star defensive lineman for the Quakes,” she informed me.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way that Tabor is a professional football player. He would have said something,” I said. “Wouldn’t he?”

  Gracie didn’t respond. Instead she clicked on another link and biographical information about Tabor appeared on the screen.

  Born Jordan Tabor Hunter on October 15, 1989 in Chicago, IL.

  “How did you know it was the same guy?” I asked, still staring at the screen, my hand covering my mouth.

  “You know JT is my favorite player and Tabor isn’t exactly a common name, Dani,” she answered. “Besides, you said he’s built like a football player and it just clicked. Question is, how did you not know it was him?”

  “You said it yourself: I’m not the football fan.”

  “Everyone knows who he is.”

  I stared at her blankly and she shook her head.

  “Yeah, I know, look who I’m talking to: the woman who hates football.”

  “I don’t hate it, I just don’t watch it,” I laughed.

  “You’re missing out. Tight uniforms, bulging muscles…do I need to go on?” She sighed, lost in her own world.

  “You know how Dad is. During football season, nothing else exists. So yeah, sorry that I’m not a diehard like you,” I teased.

  “How are we even related?” Grace laughed. “We need to do a blood test or something.”

  “Agreed,” I said straight-faced. “Or maybe I was born without the football gene.”

  Cleo started squealing loudly and banging her toys on the counter. I swooped down and picked her up, turning my back to the computer screen as I walked into the living room.

  “You’re going out with JT Hunter,” Gracie said, her eyes glazing over.

  “No, I’m going out with Tabor,” I corrected and then gave Cleo my attention. “Isn’t that right?” I said in a silly voice. She started laughing and I set her down at her play kitchen.

  Gracie sat on the floor next to me and opened the screen, cycling through the various pictures of JT Hunter—Football Star—Most Eligible Bachelor—Sexiest Man in the City. “Do you see this?”

  “I see it, but what’s your point?”

  “Dani, you freakin’ met JT Hunter. JT Hunter changed your tire. And you gave your phone number to JT Hunter and now you are going out with JT Hunter,” she shouted before jumping around excitedly.

  “Say ‘JT Hunter’ again and maybe I’ll get it,” I joked.

  “JT Hunter,” she said and I laughed.

  “Nope,” I argued. “I met Tabor.”

  “Please don’t act stupid right now,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “For whatever reason, he introduced himself as Tabor. So let’s just leave it at that for now. Okay?”

  “Fine,” Gracie said, raising her hands in surrender.

  “You know, it makes sense now,” I offered.

  “What does?”

  “When I asked him to take his sunglasses off, he was hesitant. I guess now I know why.”

  “And that is?”

  I shrugged. “He thought I’d recognize him.”

  “Um. Yeah! That’s because most women in San
Diego would. But then again, you’re not most women.” She smiled.

  I grabbed her laptop and brought it to the couch where I scrolled through all of the images of Tabor.

  Correction: JT Hunter.

  JT Hunter with a group of kids.

  JT Hunter shirtless.

  JT Hunter at practice.

  JT Hunter with a woman.

  JT Hunter wearing sunglasses and smiling.

  I couldn’t help but grin when I saw that last one. Gracie nudged my leg, and I looked to see her watching me with amusement and I shrugged.

  “Why do you think he introduced himself as Tabor?” I asked.

  “Maybe you’ll find out when he picks you up tonight.” She smirked. “And I hate you, by the way.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I’ve never been on a date with anyone remotely famous. And now I’m going out with Tabor—JT Hunter? Maybe I should cancel.”

  I was fighting my own insecurities and I hated it. And I think I hated it more that I needed my big sister to assure me that I deserved to have some fun. It’s amazing that one bad relationship can deplete your confidence. I grabbed my purse off the floor and pulled out my phone so I could scroll for his number, but Grace took it out of my hand.

  “Gracie, give me that,” I demanded, but she stood up to get distance from me.

  “You need to calm down,” she ordered. “You were excited about the date before you knew who he was, right?”

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “So you’re going to hold his status against him? That’s not fair, is it?”

  “You are not fooling anyone.” I lunged for my phone, but she moved. “You just want to live vicariously through me because he’s on your list.”

  She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “So what if I am?”

  I started laughing and jumped at her again, but she moved to the other side of Cleo.

  “Don’t use my niece as a shield,” I laughed.

  She held up my phone and started scrolling through the recent calls and turned the screen to face me.

  “See! You already added his name to your contact list. You want to see this guy, regardless of who he is or who you thought he was. You owe it to yourself to go…you owe it to him,” she said before handing me the device. “You used to be the bravest person I knew. What happened to that girl?”

  Her words stung more than she realized. I never told Gracie how bad things had gotten with Philip. As far as everyone was concerned, I was the bad guy in the situation.

  But I wanted to be brave.

  I righted my posture and watched as she walked back to the floor and sat down with Cleo. I stood in the same place, staring at the screen and Tabor’s name. I did want to see him. I liked talking with him and wanted to see if maybe there was something more.

  At least I did before I knew who he was.

  “You know I’m right,” she said, staring at Cleo. And she was right.

  “I guess one date won’t hurt.”

  “Exactly,” she answered.

  I sat down on the couch and sighed. “Do I tell him that I know who he is?”

  Gracie looked at me and shook her head. “That’s up to you. But for whatever reason, he wanted to be Tabor with you. I’d just let it play out. From everything I’ve read, he’s a really good guy, so I don’t think he’s trying to screw with you.”

  I nodded my head and took a deep breath. “I guess I’m going out with JT Hunter tonight,” I muttered as a door shut.

  Grace and I both turned our heads to see Trevor standing in the doorway with his mouth hung open.

  “You’re going out with Hunter?” His eyes were so wide and I think he might have started to twitch at the mention of Tabor’s name. He was a huge fan. “What the hell is going on? I come home from work and the world ends?”

  “Get this,” Gracie snorted and waved Trevor over.

  Cleo started clapping at the sight of her dad, who picked her up and tossed her into the air.

  “She didn’t even know it was him.”

  “Are you surprised? She hates football,” Trevor answered and Grace simply laughed.

  “See, I told you.” She pointed at me. “I think you might be the one person in this city who hasn’t jumped on the I love JT bandwagon.”

  “Whatever,” I said, picking up my purse and heading to the door. “But I’m the one who has a date with him.”

  I wiggled my fingers at Cleo, who was still smiling and running all over the place, and blew a kiss to Grace. She and Trevor were standing side by side, watching my departure.

  “Call me,” she called out as I closed the door behind me.

  C h a p t e r 6

  T A B O R

  The afternoon I saw Dani, I had no idea what possessed me to turn down that street. It wasn’t my normal route home, but I’d been distracted after a conversation I’d had with my agent. He was pushing me to endorse a clothing line that my sister Abbi had told me about. It would take me a while to sort through the endorsements being thrown my way, and at the time I hadn’t wanted to think about it. Though I couldn’t think of anything else.

  And then I saw her.

  I thought nothing of the classic car on the side of the road; after all, people have flats all the time.

  But as I got closer I spotted the attractive woman bent on the ground next to it, changing the tire. I slowed my speed and watched this messy, determined woman as she used all of her weight to loosen the bolts on the tire, and I couldn’t help but smile at her tenacity.

  I felt like an ass as I sat in my car, watching her work the tire iron. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Her wavy auburn hair was falling into her face, strands no longer contained in her small ponytail.

  At that moment I just wanted to meet her, and if helping her change that tire got me the introduction, I was all for it.

  Then came the lie…or half-truth.

  I don’t know why I told her my name was Tabor. I kept that name exclusive to close family and friends. But seeing her, I didn’t want to be JT Hunter, football player, and everything that went with the name. Funny enough, though, she didn’t seem to know who I was—or if she did, she hid it well.

  Her jeans were covered in dirt from her attempts at changing the tire, and when she argued that she had it, I didn’t doubt she would have been fine without my help.

  I could have walked away then and left her alone. But I didn’t want to. The moment those blue eyes stared up into mine, I knew that I was where I needed to be.

  “Hey,” Abbi all but shouted over the phone when I answered. She had successfully stopped me from thinking about Dani—though in truth, I didn’t mind thinking about her at all.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can’t I just call my brother up to talk?”

  “Yeah, you could,” I laughed, “but I can tell something’s going on.”

  “You haven’t talked to Mom, have you?”

  “No. Why? Is everything okay?” I asked, momentarily alarmed.

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Sorry. I just meant, has she said anything to you?” She sounded nervous, her voice shaky, and I didn’t understand why.

  “About what, Abbi? What’s going on?” I pushed, not liking the tone the conversation had taken.

  “I sorta hoped she did call, even though I wanted to be the one to tell you myself.” She was quiet and I was beginning to regret taking the call.

  “Abbi, just say it already!” I tried to laugh, but it sounded strangled.

  “It’s about Marshall,” she said quietly.

  “What about him? Did you two break up?” I asked.

  Of all the guys she’d ever dated, he was the one I hated the least. He was a decent guy, but I’d only met him a few times. He was good to Abbi, and that was all that mattered.

  “Not exactly,” she laughed and then the phone went quiet again. “He proposed. Last night.”

  “Proposed what?” I stupidly asked, certain it wasn’t what I was thinking.


  “What do you think, dumbass? He asked me to marry him,” she said, her voice rising in excitement.

  “Are you serious? You’ve been dating, what—four months?” I asked, trying to figure out when I’d first heard of him. “You barely know the guy.”

  “Wow, you really suck. We’ve been together for almost a year, so thanks for paying attention,” she said, amused with my questions. “And yes, I’m very serious. We want to get married next spring. Football will be over and you’ll be able to give me away.”

  I sat down on the edge of my bed as I let the new information sink in. My sister—my little sister—was getting married?

  “Are you still there?” she asked timidly. “You’re happy for me, right?”

  It was as if there was a delay from her question to my brain and then to my mouth as I tried to formulate a response.

  “Is this what you want?” I finally asked as I tried to leave my own concerns aside.

  “It is,” she said, and I could almost hear her cheesy smile.

  “Then yeah, I’m happy for you,” I told her truthfully.

  “And you’ll give me away?”

  There was a picture on my dresser of Abbi and me with Mom. It was taken the day I’d signed with the Quakes. Those two women were the most important people in my life, and even though they lived thousands of miles away, some things would never change.

  “No,” I said.

  “What?” she asked stunned. Abbi wasn’t used to me telling her no, and her disappointment was noticeable.

  “I won’t give you away. You’re my little sister, and I’ll never give you away. But I will walk you down the aisle.”

  “Thank you!” she practically shouted into the phone. “I love you, Tabor.”

  “You too,” I said with a smile.

  “Now we just need to find you someone who isn’t a gold-digging whore,” she said in that serious way of hers.

  “Don’t start with that again,” I warned, hoping to avoid the list of potential dates. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Why?” Her voice was hushed. “Did you meet someone?”

  “Not really.”