“That’s your table, Claire.” Chuck leaned through the kitchen door. “You’re still on the clock, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, Susie.”
Making sure her pad and pen were in her apron pocket. Damn, Chuck. He was a good boss. Fair. However, he was a stickler for working her full shift. Sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, Claire snuck away a few minutes early. No such luck today.
She approached the table with her usual friendly smile. Fact. Happy waitresses got better tips. Claire wasn’t going to let a minor disappointment cost her even a few dollars. Not when every one was so precious.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” She set three glasses of water on the table. “Can I start you with something to drink? Coffee? Juice?”
“Now aren’t you a ray of sunshine on a gloomy Seattle day?”
Great. Why was there always one who thought he was a charmer? Claire didn’t let her smile slip. She was tired. Her feet hurt. All she wanted was her tiny apartment and her anatomy book. Instead, she was stuck with three…What had Susie called them? Knights? Football. Too bad. She was baseball all the way.
“Should I be insulted?
Logan enjoyed the story. Especially finding she hadn’t recognized Gaige. That never happened. This would have been six or seven years ago if he judged properly. Before Logan knew him. Watching his friend’s reaction to an oblivious woman was something he was sorry he missed.
“I’m a football convert,” Claire assured him. “Though baseball will always be my first love. Before I met Gaige, I planned on becoming the first head trainer for the Mariners.”
“Now you plan on getting that job with the Knights?”
“Eventually. Let’s take a break.”
They were by Newberry Park. A grand name for a place that sported two trees, a single swing, and a bench. Logan never knew who Newberry was or why this little patch of Denville was named after him.
He followed Claire to one of the old oaks. They sat with their backs against the peeling bark. After a minute or so, she picked up her story.
“You’re my audition.” She rolled her shoulders, breathing in the early morning air. “When I get you back to playing form, I’ll be a shoe-in for the assistant trainer job. In the off-season, I’ll work toward my PhD. By the time Wally Compton is ready to retire, I can just slide right into the head trainer job.”
Impressive. Logan admired ambition and Claire brimmed with it. One more person counting on him. Rather than feeling the weight of expectation, he felt a surge of hope. Why shouldn’t they both get what they wanted? She believed it was possible. More and more, so did he.
“Gaige encouraged you?”
“More than that,” Claire told him. “He paid for the whole thing.”
The first thing Claire noticed about Gaige Benson was his smile. Warm and inviting without a touch of smarm. He shut down his friend with one look. She took their order, served the meal, and cleared the plates. All business. No problems.
When his teammates left, Gaige asked Claire to join him. Thinking she had read him wrong, Claire couldn’t help her feeling of disappointment. The nice guy was going to turn out to be the big bad wolf.
“All I want to do is talk,” Gaige said, somehow reading her mind. “I promise.”
Still leery, Claire took the seat across from one of the most recognizable men in the country.
“Hi,” Gaige held out his hand. “My name is Gaige Benson and I play football for the Seattle Knights.”
Laughing, Claire shook his hand. “Hi. My name is Claire Thornton and I’m a waitress.”
“Pleased to meet you, Claire.” Gaige leveled his gaze, capturing hers. “Tell me your dreams.”
It was a ridiculous thing to ask of a stranger. Yet for some reason, Claire found herself telling him everything. Three hours later, Claire couldn’t believe the turn her life had taken.
“Gaige listened,” Claire said. “I don’t think anyone had ever done that.”
“I know.” Closing his eyes, Logan nodded. “Gaige has that rare ability to concentrate his attention on one person. He makes you feel like you’re the most interesting person in the room. That’s why his team would walk through fire for him.”
“I sat down to talk to him, convinced he was after something. When we were through, I agreed to let him pay for my education. Just like that. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Let me guess,” Logan laughed. “He refused to let you pay him back.”
Claire nodded. “He suggested I volunteer when I had some free time. Giving back to the community would be all the payment he wanted.”
“Sounds like Gaige.”
“He wanted to pay my room and board.” Claire remembered that argument like it was yesterday. For once, Gaige didn’t win. “I would have felt too much like a kept woman. Now that I didn’t have to worry about the cost of school, I dropped two of my jobs. Seven years later, here we are.”
“Mmm.”
The lack of sleep caught up to Logan. Add to it the nerves, excitement, and general terror of Gaige’s offer, the adrenaline that had kept him going wore off. The thought of jogging all the way home was more exhausting than the actual act. Half asleep, Logan reached for Claire’s hand.
“I’d start calling him Saint Gaige if I hadn’t witnessed firsthand how debauched my old friend can be.”
“Debauched?” Claire had to hear this. “Tell me every—”
It seemed that was a story for another time. Logan was sound asleep, his head tipped back against the tree, his hand still in hers.
Poor baby. Even with the beard, with his face relaxed in slumber, he looked young. Carefree. Not at all like the wound-up mess that she met a few hours ago.
The hood of his sweatshirt hung low on Logan’s forehead, a wisp of dark brown hair peeking out. Unable to help herself, Claire smoothed it back, her hand moving down to gently cup his cheek. She wasn’t a beard fan. Still, Logan’s was surprisingly soft. When they kissed, the ends caressed her skin instead of irritating it. It added a layer of sensation to an already volatile situation.
Kissing Logan Price had been a bad idea. Why then was she obsessed with doing it again?
“You are trouble with a capital T.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”
Claire would have pulled away, but Logan trapped her hand against his face.
“What do you think?” he asked. He rubbed her palm along his jaw.
Claire looked into Logan’s slightly bloodshot eyes. If she was going to get into trouble, she might as well jump in with both feet.
“Not bad.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “I’ll bet there’s quite a face under all this fur.”
Logan chuckled ruefully. “There used to be. I haven’t seen it for almost a year. God knows what it looks like.”
“If you decide you want to find out, let me know. I used to shave my dad. Not a single nick.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Logan wrapped his hand around Claire’s neck, gently tugging her the last few inches until her mouth pressed against his.
“Bad idea?” He gave her a final out.
“We both know it is.”
Claire licked his bottom lip. The groan that rushed from his throat was all the incentive she needed. Given a choice between sensible and bad, she picked bad.
Logan took her mouth with a swift confidence he hadn’t felt for some time. Her taste was addictive and he couldn’t get enough.
“Open for me,” he urged. “Let me in.”
More than happy to oblige, Claire met Logan’s tongue halfway. The slip and slide made her squirm. The heat rushing through her body was both thrilling and frustrating. She wanted more. Her instinct was to pull his clothes from his body. How would he feel, naked, hot – hers?
“This isn’t the place.”
Claire pushed away. There was something to be said for good judgment. Even when it left her body aching. With one last hard, fast kiss, she got to her feet. Ho
lding out her hand, she pulled Logan up.
“Looks like we’ve moved past if,” he said, brushing the dirt from his clothes. “I will have you, Claire.”
His words sent a shiver of desire down her spine. Inevitable? Claire had never been a fatalist. She firmly believed in the power of free will. She wanted Logan. Having him was still her choice.
Ready to tell him just that, Claire raised her eyes to Logan’s. What she saw made her insides melt. Mixed with need she saw the vulnerability. A proud man whose confidence had eroded to almost nothing. He wasn’t demanding her capitulation. He was asking her to take him. Flaws and all. Ride this out to wherever it might lead them.
It was then that Claire knew what Logan needed, but couldn’t ask for. Her strength. She would spend the next six months building him up. Inside and out. Mind and body.
Claire felt an odd constriction around her heart. This was no longer simply about the job. She cared about Logan. How deeply, time would tell.
“I want you to understand, Logan.” Claire pulled his hood over his head. “I don’t offer sex in my job description. When we sleep together. And yes, I said when. It won’t be for any other reason than I want you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Suddenly energized, Logan took off toward home. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, “What are you waiting for? We only have six months. Let’s get to work.”
Shaking her head, Claire quickly caught up.
Six months. Half a year spending every day of it with Logan. There it was again. That funny feeling around her heart. Whatever it meant she knew one thing. There was no turning back now.
CHAPTER FIVE
“HOW DID IT go?”
“Good. I think.”
Claire closed the door behind her. Sweaty from the run and bone tired from a day of travel, she was ready for a shower and a solid eight hours of sleep. The nap she took on the plane trip from Seattle had worn off long ago.
She smiled with gratitude when Jonas handed her a fresh cup of coffee.
“How did you know I liked it black?”
“Gaige.”
Naturally. Claire pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Her shower could wait a few minutes while she caught up Logan’s father.
“Would you like something to eat? Pancakes? Eggs? Toast? Name it.”
“I’m not much of a breakfast person. Unless it’s for dinner.” Claire patted the chair next to her. “Sit. I won’t feel comfortable staying here unless you treat me like a friend, not a guest.”
“I like to feed my friends.” Bringing his cup, Jonas joined her. “We’ll get each other’s rhythm soon enough.”
Claire smiled at the older man. She could see a lot of Logan in him. The same powerful build. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, but the deep, rich brown was still visible. The eyes got her. The color of rich caramel – exactly like Logan’s. He was a handsome man. What made him irresistible was his love for his son. Not all fathers cared that much. Some, like Claire’s, couldn’t have cared less.
“I like your kitchen. It’s homey.”
Jonas chuckled, the lines near his eyes a testament that it was something he often did. “Is that your nice way of saying old-fashioned?”
“Nothing wrong with that. New and sleek is fine. So is this.”
Claire meant her words. Architectural Digest would call it something fancy like Country Chic. She called it welcoming – lived in. Loved.
The white cabinets with copper hardware gleamed. As did the wood block counters and gray tile floor. A stove and refrigerator that, if bought new would be called retro, sparkled as if they had been purchased yesterday instead of when the house was built by Logan’s grandfather almost seventy-five years ago. Jonas Price took pride in his home, keeping it well tended – inside and out.
“I know that Gaige called you before he flew back to Seattle.” Claire sighed when she tasted the superior coffee. Who said the Pacific Northwest had a premium on the stuff. So far, she loved what Oklahoma had to offer.
Jonas nodded. “Seems Logan wasn’t as hard a nut to crack as I thought. Much to my relief.”
“He’s on board,” Claire confirmed. “Not that it means everything will be smooth sailing. Before we’re done, Logan will be cursing the day he ever laid eyes on me.” Claire lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’ll be pushing him harder than he’s ever been pushed.”
“Hmm.”
“Doubts, Jonas?”
“I’m sure you’re very good. It’s just—”
“The whole woman thing has you thrown, doesn’t it?”
Jonas wasn’t the first, or the last, to wonder if a woman belonged in any aspect of men’s football. Professional or otherwise. Claire didn’t let it bother her. She knew she had what it took. Skill, a bit of a magic touch, and skin like a rhinoceros. She wasn’t impervious. However, at this point in her life, it took a hell of a lot to wind up her feelings.
“Give me your hand.”
With a touch of hesitation, Jonas did as she asked. Claire noticed the way his fingers were slightly stiff. The way he poured the coffee. How he couldn’t quite grip the handle on the cup. Arthritis, if she didn’t miss her guess. She couldn’t cure it, but she could ease the stiffness and pain.
As she worked each finger with her own, Claire told Jonas about her meeting with Logan. She went over the last few hours. What they talked about. Their long run. The two kisses she left out. That was something best kept private. She moved from first his right hand then to his left, keeping the conversation going while she slowly straightened each finger with a deep, gentle massage. Satisfied with her work, she sat back.
“As I told Logan, there are no guarantees. I’m hopeful, though. From what I’ve seen, his chances are damn good.”
“What did you do?” Jonas flexed his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much mobility. Or so little pain. In fact, the pain was completely gone. “I’ve tried every cream on the market. My doctor told me I would have to live with it.”
“Your doctor is right. Your arthritis isn’t going anywhere.” Claire went to the sink. She poured out the last bit before putting her cup in the dishwasher. “What you don’t have to live with is the pain and stiffness.”
“It’s miraculous.”
Delighted, Jonas flexed his fingers like a pianist warming up for a recital.
“No,” Claire assured him. “If it were a miracle, it would work on everyone. My eye told me your fingers would benefit from my technique.”
“How long will it last?”
“Depends. Each person is different.” She patted the delighted man on the shoulder. “If you’d like, I’ll show you what I did. It’s easy when you know the secret.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to be good for my son and me, Claire.” Jonas toasted her with his coffee.
With a smile, Claire took the stairs two at a time. Staying in the big house with Jonas made sense. The garage apartment was barely big enough for Logan. Besides, it wasn’t anyone’s business if they shared a bed. For now, these sleeping arrangements suited Claire. She liked sleeping alone. She loved having her own bathroom. After spending the first eighteen years with neither, they were luxuries she would never take for granted.
Like the kitchen, the bathroom had been designed in a different era. The claw-foot tub was tempting, but Claire was more interested in the big four-poster bed in the other room. After a quick shower, she slathered her body with her one indulgence. Her citrus-scented body lotion. She didn’t mind generic toilet paper or bargain basement underwear. When it came to her skin, she didn’t skimp. If buying a jar meant skipping lunch for a week, so be it. She inhabited a mostly masculine world. Something that made her feel feminine was worth the occasional empty stomach.
The bedroom was wonderfully warm. Claire appreciated Jonas’ thoughtfulness. Not bothering to put anything on, she slipped beneath the soft cotton sheets and downy quilt. Her last thought before she dri
fted off was of Logan. Hoping he was getting some sleep, she snuggled a little deeper.
Five, six hours at the most. Then they would start their journey. With hard work and a little luck, it would take them all the way. To Seattle. To training camp. To the NFL. And if Gaige had his way – the Super Bowl.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, her hazy mind warned. One step at a time. She would keep telling herself that. It would be her mantra with Logan.
Still, Claire smiled; it didn’t hurt to dream. Which was exactly what she did. In it, she saw Logan, legs strong, going in for the winning touchdown. On the sidelines, she cheered.
No one had to know her private thoughts. Besides, if she was going to dream, why not dream big?
CHAPTER SIX
THE ONLY SOUNDS in the room were the clanking of weights mingling with loud grunts. For the last twenty minutes, Claire had run Logan through a series of progressively intense routines designed to scope out his fitness level.
Claire already knew Logan could run for hours. It turned out that was all he did. To get back in playing shape, he needed increased strength, flexibility, and quickness. From what she had been able to determine, they had a long way to go on all three levels.
The workout room was first rate – no complaints there. The basement of the Price home was spacious. Before Gaige’s people got hold of it, Jonas used it for laundry and storage. Now, the washer and dryer were in their own small room off this larger one.
Free weights were lined up against the far wall. Mats, resistance bands in varying color to denote the amount of tension. Towels, a small refrigerator with sports drinks and water. Near the top-of-the-line massage table was a row of cabinets for Claire to store her personal items. Homemade concoctions. Oils, lotions, tonics.
Right now, she ran Logan through the circuit of weight machines that would make any gym-rat drool. Nearing the end of Claire’s planned reps and Logan’s endurance, she decided to see if she could push a little more. And if he could take it.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Logan huffed out the words, barely able to get his breath.
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