by Liz Lincoln
Seth pressed the button to hold the doors open as he waited for his teammate.
As Sutherland entered, he nodded. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Seth held back a rueful smile. No more need to conjure up a hairy man in his imagination. Sutherland fit the bill perfectly.
*
—
Heart beating a little too fast, Carrie tapped the email icon on her phone. All summer, checking email had been like this, knowing that among the random marketing emails and newsletters she subscribed to could be either a job rejection or a request to set up an interview.
She’d left a voicemail the previous day with the head secretary at the school that was her last chance, but she hadn’t heard back. Checking the websites of every school district in a five-county radius had yielded no open positions for her to apply for.
Her pulse hammered when the dean’s name rolled onto her phone screen. But before she could even open the message, she knew what it would say. As she skimmed it, her eyes only caught a few words: …my apologies…another candidate…best of luck…
She dropped onto her couch, staring at her phone unseeing. She wasn’t even disappointed she hadn’t gotten the job. She hadn’t wanted that one.
But it represented her last chance. She’d spent four months applying to and interviewing for every teaching job she could find. She had six years of experience and good recommendations. Her annual reviews were overwhelmingly complimentary. And science was an in-demand field.
For every one of those jobs, she’d been second-place material at best. Maybe some of it was because of intangibles like connecting better with the interviewer. But at the end of the day, it meant the same thing: no one picked her.
It was like grade-school gym class all over again. But with much higher stakes.
On her coffee table, the Starbucks application she’d grabbed stared at her. But she didn’t want to make lattes for a living. Even if it was only for a year.
Or she could call Jason. Have him set up an interview with Lainie. It inevitably paid better. And included rent. And electricity. Probably cable and Internet.
Before she could talk herself into and out of it a dozen times, she called her brother.
“Yep?” he answered. The noise around him was so loud, Carrie could barely hear him.
“This a bad time?” Usually Wednesday night wasn’t busy for him.
“Nah. Just watching tape with a few other guys,” Jason said distractedly.
To punctuate his point, two voices in the background started yelling. “You see that, Heron?”
“Bullshit. Take him off the list,” Jason said. To Carrie he added, “Sorry. What’s up?”
“I didn’t get that last job.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s OK. I didn’t really want it. Anyway, it’s down to Starbucks or your friend. So can you go ahead and set up an interview?” Her throat squeezed a little, making it hard to get the words out. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rested her forehead on her free hand.
“Sure. They’re in M— Damn, did you see that spin? We gotta look closer at Beaty.”
“Fuckin’ poetry,” someone in the background agreed.
“Jason!” Carrie snapped. She just needed his attention for another minute. He couldn’t look away for that long?
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “The team’s out of town tonight, season opener tomorrow. But I can text him. Pretty sure they’re off Saturday, so I’ll tell him ten o’clock. That good?”
She and Amy had planned to go to a yoga class, but this was more important. “Perfect.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Thank you, Jason. I really appreciate this.”
“Hey, beats having my little sister crash in my living room.”
She could picture the uncomfortable expression on his face. She and Jason got along, but they’d never been super close and they weren’t vocally affectionate with each other. Her laugh was as awkward as his words. “Right. Anyway, let me know if Lainie needs to meet another time.” Though couldn’t she just meet with his wife? Surely she would be around on a Saturday, along with the daughter.
It didn’t matter. At this point, she’d interview at three in the morning if she had to. This job was her last option.
*
—
Carrie: How was your meeting?
Seth: Fine. Standard stuff. Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s almost midnight.
Carrie: Can’t sleep. My brain won’t let go of things for the night.
Seth: You want advice, commiseration, or to take your mind off it?
Carrie: I’m impressed. Most guys jump right to the advice.
Seth: I might not know feminine hygiene products, but I have paid some attention.
Carrie: LOL.
Seth: So which is it?
Carrie: I don’t want to keep you up.
Seth: Got at least another hour before I wind down enough. And talking to you is much more interesting than what I’m reading. Lay it on me.
Carrie: I’ll take distractions for $200, Alex.
Seth: LOL. Friendly distraction, flirty distraction, or…a step beyond flirty distraction?
Carrie: I’m not sure we’ve known each other long enough for sexting.
Carrie: I can’t believe I said that.
Seth: No need to be shy on my account. But I was thinking of something between flirty and sexting. I’m just not sure what you’d call it.
Carrie: In the interest of being confident…go a step beyond.
Seth: Can I ask for more details about these dreams you had?
Seth: If it makes it easier, I never remember my dreams, but I’ve been thinking about you when I’m awake. I’d imagine there’s some crossover with your dreams.
Carrie: You’re really going to make me say it. Well, type it.
Seth: I can’t make you do anything. But I can encourage it. Should I tell you something first?
Carrie: I think you’ve already shared about 4x more than me. Still, it might.
Seth: Provided you’re agreeable, the first chance I get, I plan to slide my fingers into your hair and kiss the hell out of you. You have lips I think I could kiss for hours….
Seth: You there? Did I freak you out?
Carrie: No. My fingers were too shaky to type. That sounds perfect. Beyond perfect.
Seth: I wish you were here right now.
Carrie: In my dream, you started with basically that. Kissed me until I could barely stand. Until every part of me wanted every part of you.
Seth: I don’t think I’m breathing right now. Pretty sure I’m more turned on than if we actually were sexting.
Carrie: So it won’t turn you on more if I tell you I slid my hand under my pajamas?
Seth: Did you?
Carrie: OMG I typed that.
Seth: Did you???
Carrie: No…but I might have to before I fall asleep.
Seth: You’re killing me.
Carrie: That’s no good. Then we’ll never get to try this out.
Seth: This is definitely happening.
Carrie: I’ll hold you to that.
Seth: I damn sure hope so.
Chapter 3
Intimidated didn’t begin to cover how Carrie felt making her way up Lainie’s front walk. She didn’t know what architectural style his house was—Colonial, maybe? Bungalow?—but it was big, made of the cream-colored brick that had earned Milwaukee the nickname “Cream City.” The house wasn’t as big as the mansions along Lake Drive, but it was only a few blocks off the lake. It was definitely in mini-mansion territory.
Maybe it wasn’t the huge house so much as the idea of working for a millionaire, doing a job she’d never done before, that had her twisting her birthstone ring around and around her right ring finger. Her toes wriggled inside her flats. She forced them to stop as she took the three steps to the concrete slab porch.
Dammit, she could do this. If she could keep twenty-five seventh graders intereste
d in the difference between meiosis and mitosis, she could wow one football player and his wife, and take care of one little girl. Squaring her shoulders, she rang the doorbell.
As she waited, she turned and glanced down the street. Her brother’s friend lived on a quiet street in one of the nicest suburbs in Milwaukee County. The surrounding houses were equally large, all with sprawling, well-landscaped lawns, many with circular driveways leading to three-car garages like Lainie’s. At ten o’clock on a Saturday, the neighborhood was alive with activity. Like any other neighborhood in any suburb.
She could fit in here.
The sound of the door opening had her turning back to the house and the man standing in the doorway to greet her. “Hey, you must be—
“Carrie?”
She stopped and stared at the blond, bearded man in front of her. Except he couldn’t be her brother’s friend; he was the man she’d met in the grocery store last week. Seth, the man she’d been exchanging scorching texts with. The man she’d pictured as she got herself off, more than once.
The man whose last name and profession she didn’t know. Who had been in Florida Wednesday night for work, the same night the Dragons were in Miami for a game. Who had a twelve-year-old daughter and no wife. Who would undoubtedly need a nanny when he traveled to games.
Despite all the signs pummeling her in the head like a cast-iron skillet, she shook her head. “No. You can’t be Lainie. That’s not possible.”
“Harry always calls you his sister.” Seth sounded equally stunned, holding up his hand in a duh gesture. “I don’t think I’ve heard him use your name since college. Damned if I remembered it until just now.”
“Harry?”
“Sorry. It was a Longhorns thing. Guy on the team gave every freshman a nickname, derivative of his last name. Jason’s Harry, from Heron. I’m Lainie…Chamberlain.” He ran his hands through his loose hair, gathering it in one fist at the nape of his neck. “No one calls me Lainie anymore except Har—uh, Jason.”
Carrie didn’t much care about college football nicknames. She was still trying to come to grips with having sexted with one of her brother’s best friends. With whom she was supposed to have a job interview.
With a deep breath, Seth dropped his hair and stepped back, gesturing for her to come inside. “Well, come on in. If you still want to do this, I can give you a quick tour and we can talk a little about the job. Madison’s outside reading, but I’ll have her come in to meet you when we’re done.”
So they were going to pretend they hadn’t exchanged steamy texts. Sure, she could fake that.
She followed him into an open, airy room that served as living room, dining room, and kitchen. A breakfast bar separated off the kitchen, which was sleek and modern and well-equipped enough to make her jealous of her future self, should she get the job. She didn’t love cooking that much, but even mac and cheese out of a box would feel fancy when made in that kitchen.
A giant TV hung on the far wall, with seemingly every electronic accessory and game console on the entertainment center below. The gray suede sofa and loveseat faced the setup, with remotes and game controllers littering the coffee table, along with several videogame cases.
“Mads is more into gaming than I am, but she’s gotten me hooked on all the Lego videogames.” His sheepish smile was both sexy and adorable.
Bad Carrie.
She had to stop thinking about him as sexy if she was going to take this job. Just because he’d promised to kiss the hell out of her didn’t mean she could hook up with her employer. That would be a disaster.
He rubbed the side of his beard, the rasp of his whiskers drawing her attention to his face. To his mouth. To lips that looked firm yet—
“You don’t play Madden NFL?” She grabbed her brother’s favorite videogame out of her memory, to cut off her wayward thoughts.
“Nah. Some guys I know are into that, but I’d rather keep my football on the field.” He shrugged.
He gave her a quick tour of the first floor, which consisted mostly of the great room and pointing out the door to his room. She had to shove away thoughts of herself on the other side of that door with him.
He also showed her the laundry room, tucked away in a hallway leading to the garage. “Mads does her own laundry, and I can do mine in the off-season, but it’s a huge help for someone else to do it during the season. So that would be one of your jobs.” He scratched his beard again, not meeting her eyes. “If that’s a problem, I suppose I can talk to Mads—”
“No!” she cut in a little too quickly. She could suck it up and fold his underwear. That wouldn’t be totally weird. “I mean, that’s fine. If it’s part of the job, it’s part of the job.”
His shoulders loosened a little. “Right.” He turned and led her back toward the kitchen. “I guess this job is really part nanny, part housekeeper. I can’t cook, and it seems silly to hire a separate cleaning service, so…”
“I get it.” Carrie didn’t mind cleaning. She hated scrubbing bathtubs, but other than that, she mostly found it soothing. And she’d have to clean a bathtub if she lived on her own, so it wasn’t a big deal. “Two bathtubs?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. I don’t mind cleaning, except I hate bathtubs. Just wondering how many you have.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah, two. Mine in the master bath and one upstairs.”
She nodded.
Seth leaned back against the kitchen sink and watched her. She rested one hand on the breakfast bar and forced herself not to meet his gaze. She was afraid if she did, she’d throw herself at his chest and beg him to kiss the hell out of her like he’d promised.
But maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea. Maybe the kiss would suck and they could break the heavy tension between them.
Her eyes drifted to his big hands, curled around the edge of the counter. He could easily fill those hands with her breasts. And his lips looked even more kissable than she remembered.
Her skin felt electric as she, against her better judgment, did meet his gaze. His blue eyes looked as hungry as she felt. Like he was holding the counter to keep himself from grabbing her. Like he too had pictured her on the other side of his closed bedroom door.
Shit. How was this ever going to work?
Job. No rent. Nearly empty bank account. She didn’t have a choice.
She snapped her eyes shut, breaking the hypnotic connection between them. “You said you also suck at cooking. I assume I’d do that?”
He cleared his throat, and when Carrie again opened her eyes, he’d pushed away from the counter and was pulling open the refrigerator. “Right. I eat at practice a lot, but we have pretty high calorie requirements, so I eat here too.”
He showed her where various things were kept in the kitchen, adding in bits about what he liked when he ate at home and what Maddie’s favorite foods were.
“How did your last nanny handle it?” Carrie asked as he shut the walk-in pantry door. Of course he had a walk-in pantry. A huge one. “Did she make a weekly menu? Or wing it from a mental list of favorite foods?”
She envisioned a long session on Pinterest for herself if she took the job. She knew nothing about how to run a household of more than one. And her menu planning was firmly in the wing-it category.
“Actually, in Houston, my mom did most of it.” He laughed dryly. “Which sounds pretty pathetic for a thirty-one-year-old guy. But we lived in the same neighborhood as my parents, so they watched Mads when I was at practice and out of town. Mom fed her and sent home leftovers for me. I had a weekly cleaning service, but that was the only person who came into the house.”
So this was new territory for him too. Interesting. Certainly many football players had kids, there were probably even plenty of single dads. But how many of them had physical custody?
She didn’t feel comfortable yet asking where Maddie’s mom was, but she was clearly not part of the everyday picture.
“Couldn’t convince your parents to move north?
” she joked to cover up the oddly unsettling feeling her realization gave her.
“Dad doesn’t do snow. Refuses to own a shovel.” He smiled, his eyes shining in a way that made the unsettling feeling turn warm and tingly. Still unsettling, but decidedly more pleasant. “And I can’t ask them to uproot their whole lives for what right now is a one-year contract.”
“But Maddie had to.” As soon as the words were out, Carrie wished she could take them back.
To his credit, Seth hid his wince well enough that she almost didn’t notice it. “I thought about letting her stay with my parents instead of moving her away from all her friends. But they’ve already done so much for me, and they don’t need to raise another kid. And she’s my daughter. She belongs with me.”
This time she managed to keep her mouth shut and not comment on the edge in his voice. It was clearly a touchy spot for him.
“All right then. Two bathtubs, meals, dirty socks.” Time to get back on neutral footing. She slid onto one of the stools lined up against the breakfast bar. “Let’s talk schedule. I know half your games are out of town, and you’re gone the night before.”
Another throat clear, another scratch of his beard, then Seth came and leaned against the counter on the other side of the island. Looking at her, but with a bland expression. No heat, no awkwardness. Just a man interviewing a potential employee.
Which was what they both needed.
“And we stay in a hotel the night before home games as well.”
“Really?” What a weird thing to do.
“Gets us away from the distractions of home life. So we can focus on the game. No staying out late at the bars or getting picked up for drinking and driving and missing the game because we’re in jail. Hell, we have a curfew. And no waking up at two with the baby. No fighting with wives. The NFL pays us a lot of money to make them even more money. They want to make sure they get quality product every Sunday.”
That was a cynical way of looking at it.
Before she could comment, Seth held up a hand. “I’m not complaining. Once I got used to it, I preferred it. And I get to do something I absolutely love. If I can’t handle some rules sixteen nights—well, ideally twenty if we get to the Super Bowl. But if I can’t handle that a handful of nights out of the year, I don’t deserve to be here.”