Loving Him Off the Field

by Jeanette Murray

  Cassie leaned forward from the driver seat. “Sorry, when I made plans with you I forgotten I’d already told them we’d hang out. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not if they don’t mind me bitching about men,” she grumbled, then her eyes widened. “Complain. Complain about men. Sorry.”

  Another head leaned forward form the backseat. This one an icy-cool blonde with mature eyes. “We’re teenagers, not toddlers. We can say curse words, too.”

  Cassie sighed. “Aileen, meet my other sister, Irene. She’s gifting us with her presence. Make sure you’re suitably grateful.”

  Irene rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. Aileen moved back to give Mellie room to exit, and then together they rounded the car. Cassie already had a blanket laid out on the concrete floor.

  “We could have gone to the mall,” Irene said, her voice indicating she was very much put out by this outing, “but Cassie wanted privacy and a place to talk.” She glanced at Aileen’s outfit of worn jeans, hoodie, and Converse. “You could have come, too.”

  Aileen had the distinct feeling she’d been mentally labeled a fashion victim by a seventeen year old.

  “I like talking.” Mellie sat down, cross-legged, uncaring that her plaid skirt raised up to the point of seeing her boy shorts below. Irene sat in a more ladylike position, her own matching plaid skirt draped carefully over her thighs. Clearly, they were wearing school uniforms. Cassie plopped down easily, her jeans and dark blue Bobcats polo making any position possible. She patted the blanket beside her.

  “Sit. I brought goodies and drinks.”

  “Any wine?” Irene asked, looking through the basket in the center of the blanket.

  Cassie shot Aileen an amused look. “Darn, forgot the wine. Silly me.”

  Irene raised a brow to indicate she caught the sarcasm, then pulled out waters and handed them to Mellie, Cassie, and Aileen before getting her own. Then she pulled a tin of cookies and a few other boxes of goodies out and set them in a neat little row like the young hostess she was.

  “Wow, impressive. A picnic, and a great view. How’d you know about this parking garage?” Aileen asked Cassie as she picked up a napkin and a brownie.

  “Trey brought me here. It has a good view of downtown, so he showed me the different areas from a birds-eye view.” Her gaze went a little soft and she stared at the threads of the blanket, as if lost in thought.

  “Did you guys make out up here?” Irene asked, looking much more interested in the current topic than any before. Mellie started to speak, but Irene elbowed her sister and muttered a, “Shh,” before asking again, “Did you?”

  “Uh, we might have kissed,” Cassie admitted, her face flushing. “But really, the view . . .” She waved a hand out toward the railing and the city beyond.

  Uh-huh. Aileen hid her grin with a bite of brownie.

  “How’s the story with Killian going?” Cassie asked a moment later.

  “Killian Reeves, the kicker?” Irene sat up straight and gave Aileen her full focus. “Number seven, leading the conference in yards, super-quiet Killian Reeves?”

  “That’s the one.” She was her father’s daughter, that much was certain. “And as far as the story . . . it’s a non-thing.” She swallowed another bite, debated against another, then reached for a cookie instead. Variety was the spice of life, after all. “I declined to finish the interview, and then got fired for it.” She shrugged her shoulder when Cassie and Mellie gasped. Irene looked curious, but like she didn’t want to appear to care. Teenagers. It was a delicate balance of remaining aloof and worldly all at once. “It’s okay. I wasn’t going anywhere with that job, and my boss was an ass—jerk,” she finished pathetically.

  “We know—” Irene started.

  “About cursing, yes we’ve heard,” Cassie cut her off. Turning back to Aileen, she said, “Ignore her. She’s seventeen going on seventy. Do you have something else lined up?”

  “At this point, I’m probably going to be working at the bowling alley for a while. Until I get my feet under me,” she added when Cassie looked horrified. “It’s not that bad. I mean, cleaning the shoes sucks, but—”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just . . . you’re talented. I’ve watched your stuff. You’re funny and cute on camera and you get people to talk easily and the guys all adore you. And you’re honest, which, let’s face it, is a trait not all media people carry,” she added, her face darkening a moment. “Some other place should snap you up in a heartbeat.”

  “Should and will are two different things, sadly. I’m fine.” She picked up a lemon bar, because why the hell not? “I’ll be okay.”

  “What happened with the Killian interview? Did he bail on you?” Mellie asked.

  “No, I just couldn’t finish it.” She swallowed the bite of lemon bar, then realized she had to swallow again. It felt stuck.

  “Too boring?” Irene asked wisely. “He never says anything, ever.”

  “No . . . I just couldn’t.” She glanced at Cassie and saw a wealth of understanding in her warm eyes. Cassie nodded once, then reached out and rubbed a hand over Aileen’s back.

  The simple comfort went a long way toward soothing the worst of her ragged edges. “It’ll be okay,” she said with resolve. Because it had to be. There were no backups.

  And if she woke up every morning with a damp pillowcase from tears, that was her problem and nobody else’s.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The season was over. Killian slumped against his locker, unable to believe the time had come. For the first time since he’d started playing in the NFL, he didn’t feel relief. It wasn’t a weight lifted off his shoulders to know he didn’t have to worry about keeping himself distant for another play-off.

  Partly because he knew he’d miss seeing his fellow Bobcats every day now. They’d become more than teammates. They were friends.

  But the truth was, it was Aileen he’d miss seeing. She’d stopped coming around his apartment, stopped showing up at practices, and hadn’t answered his two phone calls. Crazy how, when she’d started showing up, he’d considered her a nuisance. A cute nuisance, but one nonetheless.

  Now, four days of silence was driving him insane, and he craved even the barest glimpse of her. He needed to know if she was okay, if she was upset . . .

  If she forgave him.

  Trey, already dressed in the khakis and button-down shirt he’d come to the stadium in, walked over, and gave him a light tap on the shoulder. “Nice game.”

  “We lost,” Killian reminded him.

  “But you did your job. Two field goal attempts, two field goals. Can’t ask for more than that.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t our season. Maybe next year.”

  “Yeah.” Killian tossed a towel into the nearby hamper and grabbed his suit pants. “What’s up with you for the off-season?”

  “Cassie,” Trey said with a grin. The woman’s name came out on a sigh, like a prayer. He sank onto the bench beside Killian. “I very much look forward to spending some time with her where I’m not juggling practice and being on the road.”

  Because jealousy was never attractive, Killian nodded instead of snapping, Lucky you. “Thank her again, please, for getting her sister, Irene, to babysit Charlie today.”

  “Trust me, it was no problem.”

  Killian hesitated, then asked, “Is she always that uptight, or was that because she was nervous?” When Cassie’s sister—Coach Jordan’s daughter—had shown up at his apartment, she’d been quiet, barely saying two words. Though when Charlie had raced out of his room to inspect the new visitor, she’d softened considerably. Enough that he was sure she’d be fine with him. And Mrs. Reynolds was across the hall, in case they needed anything.

  “Irene’s a good kid, she’s just trying to find her own way. She’s been under their mom’s thumb for so long, now that she’s breaking out, she’s struggling to figure out what she wants instead of what her mom wants.”

  “Well, I appreciate her missing the gam
e to babysit.”

  “I think Irene and her mom needed some space. They’re still working out . . . issues. Watching the little guy was the perfect excuse to skip out of the game with the family.” Trey nodded. “How’s Aileen?”

  “Dunno.” He picked up his bag, then let it fall back to the bench. “How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t answer her phone or call me back. She’s not hanging around here doing her damn job. She’s supposed to be interviewing me, isn’t she?” The last was said through his teeth. “So where the hell is she?”

  “I think the interview’s off. She got fired.”

  “What? You’re shitting me. That can’t be legal.”

  “Probably is,” Trey said. “Cassie hung out with her yesterday. She’s on the hunt for a new job. Something about not finishing the interview . . .”

  “I got her fired,” he moaned, letting his head fall back to smack against the locker. It hurt, but was less than he deserved.

  Trey shrugged, zero help there. But clearly, he understood there was more than an interview in play. A few teammates walked past, slapping backs or shoulders. It didn’t make Killian antsy to bolt like it used to. And in the back, they were still sheltered from the media with locker room access. Somehow, the camaraderie was soothing as much as it was hectic.

  “I’ve got to figure out a way to get her back, man.”

  Trey drummed his fingers on the bench.

  “I can’t not be around her. She’s stuck under my skin. Used to make me want to swat her off,” he said with a small smile. “Now I wish she’d cling harder. But she won’t answer the damn phone so I can tell her that.”

  “Hmm,” Trey said, as if he had only been half-listening. “So Cassie and I have been thinking . . . now that the season’s over, it’s a good time to get the whole ‘we’re dating’ thing out in the open. Deal with it now, so it’s no biggie by the time next season rolls around.”

  Killian watched him from the side, not turning his head. “Trey, no offense or anything, but I don’t really care right now.”

  “That means,” Trey continued, as if Killian hadn’t spoken, “we need to find just the right avenue. A casual little interview, not making a big deal about it. No need to do Good Morning America or anything crazy. And we want someone we trust, who we know will respect the boundaries we put up and won’t screw us over.” He grinned when Killian turned his head to look at him square on. “Know anyone?”

  Slowly, Killian processed what Trey was asking. “You want Aileen to do the interview.”

  “We agreed she’s someone we both trust.” Killian nodded resolutely.

  “She got fired,” Killian said, pointing out the obvious. “You said she hasn’t found anything yet.”

  “So maybe she doesn’t find anything at all. Maybe she goes freelance. Or maybe this is the type of interview that gets her noticed by bigger and better places.” Trey shrugged. “What she does with it is up to her. The point is, we trust her not to abuse the situation.”

  Killian’s hands clenched around the straps of his bag. “She might not accept it, coming from me.”

  “She’s a journalist being presented a story on a silver platter. She’s going to take it.”

  “Glad you’re confident. You’ve already got your woman.”

  Trey snorted. “She’s got me just as much—if not more—than I’ve got her. That’s the beauty of being in love, my friend.” Standing, he slapped a hand on Killian’s shoulder and squeezed once in solidarity. “You always know there’s at least one other person in the world who’s just as happy—or as miserable—as you are at any given time.”

  “Sounds like hell.”

  “Heaven,” Trey corrected, and walked back to his area of the locker room.

  Heaven. He could use a little of that. With a freckled pixie by his side.

  * * *

  Trudging up her apartment stairs, Aileen debated letting her tote drag behind her. Only the reminder that her laptop and cell phone were inside, sure to break if she succumbed to temptation, stopped her. Everything was heavy. Her head, her shoulders, her spirit . . . it all wanted to droop.

  Rounding the corner, she hefted the bag higher over her shoulder and looked up. And froze. And cursed under her breath.

  Killian stood beside her apartment door, waiting. His back leaned against the cement wall, with one foot propped up. His head was down as he scrolled through his phone. He wore a red windbreaker, jeans, and running shoes, and his hair tossed around with the breeze. He needed a haircut again.

  He was so damn beautiful. And it made her angry, so angry, that he was that beautiful. He had no right to look so good when she still wasn’t done working out what she felt about him, for him . . . for them.

  This time, she had the element of surprise. She crept up as best she could, pausing when it looked like he might glance up. Then, at the last minute, she pounced. She grabbed his arm and yelled, “Boo!”

  His head turned, the only part of his body to move, and looked down at her, one brow raised. “Hey, Freckles.”

  She threw his arm aside, though it didn’t actually go anywhere. “Seriously, that’s just not fair. You knock me on my ass and I can’t even make you jolt.”

  “You have a heightened startle reflex,” he quoted at her, lips quirking a little. God, she missed his smile. It faded as he surveyed her outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  She looked down, taking in the simple black dress pants and matching blazer, with a prim button-down shirt beneath it. On her feet were simple black flats with a silver buckle accent. “Clothes. I hear it’s considered good form to wear some when you go out in public. What are you doing here?”

  He ignored her question. “Why aren’t you dressed normally?”

  “This is normal. There are probably five dozen women within a two-mile radius wearing a nearly identical outfit.”

  “Exactly,” he growled. “Where are your clothes? The sneakers and the jeans and hoodies.”

  She groaned in exasperation. “I had a job interview and didn’t want them to mistake me for a college student. Who cares? Killian, why are you here?”

  “You got fired.” His eyes were so angry, it made her take a step back. “That jackass boss of yours fired you.”

  “Um, he half-fired me, I half-quit.” She dug through her bag for her keys. “I’m not entirely sure what ended up being the official diagnosis there. Suffice to say, I don’t work at Off Season.”

  “Because of me.”

  “No, Killian.” She looked up, ready to rip him a new one for putting her through this. This torment of being near him without actually having any rights to him. Even professional ones. “Because of me. Because I couldn’t do the story anymore. I couldn’t . . .” She started to breathe heavily and forced herself to calm down. “I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Because of me,” he said again, but his voice was softer this time.

  “Because of us,” she answered just as softly. “Because I felt too much for you and I lost perspective. And I knew when I dropped the story, I’d get fired. Or I’d have to quit.” She still wasn’t sure what officially happened there. “But it was worth it. I wasn’t going to do some story on you alone, and there was no way in hell I’d do one about you and—” She glanced around, saw nobody nearby, then leaned in and whispered, “You and Charlie.”

  He met her halfway and kissed her. Her mind screamed to back up, that this was what got her into trouble in the first place. But her heart, the one that had led the way from the beginning, weakened in a moment’s time. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted up on her toes to add pressure.

  Killian’s arms banded around her waist and drew her into his body. Oh, she’d missed this feeling. His hardness pressed against her soft curves, with pressure in all the right places. Then it all came back, and she pushed at his shoulders. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  She couldn’t just fall back into that trap again. He was no longer a job risk for
her, but her heart was still on the line. “Killian, why are you here?”

  He waited, took a deep breath, then reached for her door. She started to tell him to wait until she dug her keys out, but her door opened easily. Raising a brow, she asked, “I’m sorry, did you break and enter into my apartment earlier?”

  “I would have but, as it turns out, it wasn’t necessary. The apartment manager let me in. Didn’t ask for an ID or anything. The security here is a joke.” He took her elbow and guided her inside. “We’ll be having a chat about that later. Just come in, first.”

  “Honestly, I don’t have a lot of time to be—oh.” She halted two feet in, which caused Killian to crash into her. He grabbed her before she could fall face-first onto the ground. “Okay, I have company.”

  “What was I?” he asked into her ear, helping keep her upright.

  “Not company,” she said, then gasped when he nipped her ear before letting her go. She put her bag on the floor and walked over to greet her unexpected guests lounging at the end of her bed. “Cassie, Trey, nice to see you both. Sorry about the last game, Trey.”

  He smiled, his arm slung around Cassie like he didn’t have a care in the world. “It happens. Sorry you missed it.”

  “It happens,” she echoed, grinning as he did. “Are you two in hiding or something? What’s going on?”

  “The opposite, actually.” Cassie straightened on the bed, shifting so that her legs crossed beneath her. Her feet were only in socks, with her running shoes on the floor by the bed. “We’re ready to make an official, on-the-record statement about our relationship. Sort of our preemptive strike for when we’re seen together in public.”

  “I’m done with the hiding,” Trey growled.

  Cassie patted his thigh. “Yes, yes. No more fake glasses for you.” They grinned at each other, enjoying the private joke. Aileen glanced at Killian, who looked equally confused. So at least she wasn’t alone in being outside the loop there.

  “Okay,” Aileen said slowly, opening her tote and taking her laptop out. She set it on her desk, along with her phone, and stored the bag to the side. Sitting in her computer chair, she was an arm’s length away from the bed. Killian perched on the arm of the sofa. “And you want me to help you figure out the next step? Pick a news station? Go with you to the interview? What?”