Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance)

by Pace, Alicia Hunter

“Uh oh,” Harris said. And Tolly recognized the tone of his voice.

  • • •

  Damn. Just when Nathan had let his guard down, just when he thought that, maybe, he might not have to deal with the Keith Grayson issue until tomorrow, in walked Daryl Grayson, accompanied by a man wearing a purple blazer with a purple and yellow tie. Had to be the LSU guy. And they were coming this way.

  Nathan looked at Harris. They rose silently.

  “Well, well, if it’s not the National Championship team.” Nathan wasn’t sure if Daryl’s face was red from anger or liquor. Probably both.

  “It’s not,” Harris said pleasantly. “Nathan and I were very small parts of that team.”

  “Not how I recall it,” Daryl slurred. Drunk.

  “Well, it takes a team,” Nathan said and extended his hand to the LSU guy. “Nathan Scott.”

  “Rand Perry.”

  “And this is Harris Bragg,” Nathan said.

  Harris extended his hand and introduced the rest of the table.

  “Good game, Coach.” Rand Perry turned to Nathan and handed him a card. “The Lawson kid looked good. Send me a DVD and I’ll see that it gets in the right hands.”

  Clearly Daryl Grayson was tired of not having the floor. “Rand and I just had a steak in the dining room. I am trying to convince him to have another drink before he heads out.”

  “Sounds good, but I’ve really got to get on the road. Wife. Kids. You know.” He gestured. “Nice to meet all of you.” He met Nathan’s eyes. “We’ll talk.” And he was gone.

  If only Daryl Grayson had followed him out. Harris and Nathan stayed on their feet. If they sat, they would have to ask them to join them, and that wasn’t happening.

  “So.” Daryl turned to Nathan. “I guess you are proud of what you did to my boy. Rand wouldn’t even talk to me about Keith. All he wanted to talk about was Kirby Lawson.”

  “This is not the time or the place, Daryl,” Nathan said evenly. “You are welcome to come by my office Monday when you are sober and we will discuss this.”

  “We damn well will not!” Daryl brought his fist down on the table. “We will discuss it when I say and I say now!”

  Nathan felt every eye in the room on them. It was okay. He was still in control. There wouldn’t be a scene.

  “It will be a one sided discussion then.”

  “Fine enough! I have plenty to say!” Daryl’s already loud voice rose.

  “Daryl,” Harris said, “let’s you and me go to the bar. I’ll buy you a drink. Then I’ll drive you home.”

  Daryl shook Harris’s hand off his arm. He only had eyes for Nathan. “I guess you got what you wanted. You sewed things up right and tight for the one you care about. I guess that will earn you an unusually good piece of ass tonight.”

  Nathan had to filter that through his brain twice to comprehend that such a thing had been said. For the first time in his life he understood that “seeing red” was not just an expression. And when he looked at Townshend through that red haze, her eyes were closed and her head was bowed in embarrassment.

  Lava erupted from every pulse point of his body. Molten metal chased it. Five thousand demons and twelve thousand imps raced through his bloodstream.

  “Hey!” Harris said through clenched teeth and advanced. Luke was pointing for Missy and Lanie to let him out.

  Nathan rounded on them and met their eyes. “I’ve got this.” It came out very calm for a man whose body was inhabited by all the citizens of hell.

  He turned to Daryl. “Another man would make you apologize to Townshend, but I am not another man. Don’t you speak to her. Don’t you look at her. Not tonight. Not ever. You are not fit to look at a map of a road she has ever walked on. And you are not fit to raise your son, who by the way, I did not do anything to. He did it to himself, prompted, I am more than sure, by you.”

  “If you had let him stay in, Rand Perry would have never known.” So even Daryl Grayson understood that it was unacceptable to not run the play called.

  “Sure he would and so would everyone else,” Nathan said. “If not today, one day. If someone doesn’t straighten your son out, if he makes it to play college ball — and that’s a big if — he won’t be just a kid trying to please his dad anymore. He will be a megalomaniac. And I’m not going to have any part of ruining a good kid, even if you are.”

  “He will play division one ball!”

  “He might,” Nathan said. “But he shouldn’t. He’s smart. He’s got a good arm. But he’s throwing that ball for you, not for his team and not for himself. He’s got no heart for it. He’s got heart for baseball. You ought to leave him alone and let him play high school football for fun and let him see where baseball will take him — if that’s what he wants.”

  “I will not have him play a second class sport!”

  “Second class, huh? You need to adjust your world view about as much as you need to adjust how you are raising your boy.”

  “Don’t tell me how to raise my boy!”

  “Don’t tell me how to coach my team, and that includes your son.”

  “You will damn well listen to me. I am the president of the boosters. I give money to this program and plenty of it.”

  “Maybe you ought to listen to me. Nobody tells me how to run my team. Nobody. I am sorry you only got to play junior college ball and couldn’t even make it there. But forcing Keith to do something isn’t going to make you a star. Nothing is.”

  “I guess you’d know all about being a star, wouldn’t you, Angel?” He spat out the words like they were acid. “I guess you think you would have made it if you hadn’t torn up your knee.”

  “That’s what they tell me. We’ll never know. And I don’t care anymore. I am happy coaching ball. You should settle in and be happy selling used cars. Or if you can’t, do something else.” He meant to stop there. He really did. But his tongue had a mind of its own. “Maybe open a pedicure parlor. Or start making bubble bath.”

  Daryl Grayson’s face went from red to purple. He opened and closed his mouth three times before any sound came out. “I will have your job for this. I saw to it that Harold Stallcup was fired, and I can see to you too. In fact, I’ll see to it that you never coach another team. Hell, I’ll see to it that you never work another job of any kind!”

  “Good luck with that. We’ll see how that works out. If I run out of other options, I can always sit in that chair ESPN has been saving for me. Or are you going to ruin me there too? Maybe offer them a six-year-old Mustang?” Why had he said that? He hated himself a little bit right now.

  “You are lying. ESPN wouldn’t wipe its shoe on you. You are a broken down crippled has been.”

  The roar subsided in Nathan’s head just long enough for him to hear the complete silence in the room. He glanced around. Every eye in the room was on them. And there were more eyes than when they’d first come in. Apparently word had spread that there was a scene of Old Testament proportions going on in the bar and everyone in the dining room, spa, and fitness center had hightailed it in.

  Daryl railed on. “And I could coach that team better than you do. We brought you here because of what little weight your name still carries. But I expect we’ve about used that up.”

  Dishes rattled and there was movement at his side. Suddenly, Townshend was between him and Daryl.

  “I advise you,” she said, flames licking at her words, “to call your wife to come get you. You are not only a drunken fool, you are breaking the law. Have you ever heard of slander? Defamation of character? How about public intoxication? Disorderly conduct? You have done enough before enough witnesses to make your life go very, very poorly. We can have you arrested.”

  Behind her, Nathan saw Luke Avery cover his eyes with his hand and shake his head.

  “Letting your woman take care of
business for you?” Daryl said. “I’m not surprised. Probably helps with your fantasy that you are a big pro player with a couple of Super Bowl rings who hires people to take care of business. But we all know how you pay her — with the only thing you’ve got.”

  A thousand more devils marched into Nathan’s soul.

  Townshend gasped and opened her mouth to speak.

  Nathan took her arm. “Sit down, Townshend.”

  “I have some more to say!”

  He met her eyes. “Please,” he said quietly. “He’s trying to make me hit him and you’re not helping.”

  She froze in place and backed up but she didn’t sit down. Good enough. He had to get out of here. He was smothering.

  “Harris. You aren’t going to let this idiot drive in the shape he’s in, are you?”

  “No.”

  Without a word to anyone, Nathan started for the door. He heard light footsteps quickly moving to catch up with him.

  He made himself stop and wait for her. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be alone. But she had already been embarrassed tonight because of him and he would not see her humiliated by making her run to catch him.

  He circled her shoulders with his arm and led her to the parking lot.

  • • •

  It had been a mistake to persuade Nathan to come here tonight and a big one. They should have gone straight to her house and ordered pizza.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as they approached where their vehicles were parked side by side. The plan was for her to follow him to his apartment and pick him up so his truck wouldn’t be parked at her house all night.

  “Not your fault.” His voice was very tight and his face was white.

  “Let’s go home,” she said.

  “An excellent idea.” He started for his truck.

  “I’ll follow you,” she said.

  He stopped and shook his head. “No. I tried to tell you I am not fit company. And I have gone from ‘not fit’ to intolerable. I’m going home. You go home. Or better yet, go back inside and eat your supper.”

  So this is what it felt like to be punched in the gut. And it wasn’t fair. He’d had a bad day — a horrible day. And she wanted to give him comfort.

  “Nathan.” She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “Don’t. Come home with me. I’ll fix you something to eat, so long as it’s not too complicated.” She smiled. He didn’t smile back. “You’ll feel better after you eat and we can — “ Something told her not to mention sex. “We can watch a movie.”

  “No, Townshend. Not tonight.” He lifted his foot to the running board of his truck and absentmindedly rubbed his knee. “I’ll come by tomorrow when I leave the stadium. Tonight I just need to go home.”

  “You are letting Daryl Grayson ruin our night.”

  “We haven’t had a night,” he said.

  “But I had plans.” Plans to make him feel better, to take care of him.

  “Well, unmake them.” There was an edge to his voice now. “I cannot participate.”

  “Is it because of what he said? About me taking care of your problems? Because you know that’s not true.”

  “No.” His tone was short and he wouldn’t look at her. She didn’t care much for that.

  “You are taking something out on me that was not my fault,” she said.

  “Townshend, please stop. Don’t push me into saying something we’d both rather I didn’t say.”

  Not fair. She could deal with just about anything except unfairness. “Well, if you’ve got something to say, maybe you ought to just go ahead and say it.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Okay, then.” He took his foot off the running board and planted his feet wide apart. “First off, I told you I didn’t want to go out tonight. Or I tried to. And then when that scene erupted, could you stay out of it and stay in your seat? No, you could not. Could you let me take care of my own business like a man ought to do? No, you could not. If you think a man wants a woman to fly in like Catwoman and fight his battles, you’ve got a lot to learn about men.”

  Ice. She needed the ice. She had thought she might be done with needing it but clearly not. She took a deep breath and let the cold course through her veins.

  “You have a lot to learn about Catwoman.” Her words were coated in just the right degree of frost. “Catwoman cannot fly. And she is a villain, not a super heroine. She never solved anything for anyone. She made trouble. She certainly never defended someone she cared about. Had she done so, perhaps she would have been smart enough to choose someone who would appreciate it. Unlike me.”

  “Yeah?” His face was turbulent. He’d do well to learn about ice. He should. But she wouldn’t tell him. “I’ll tell you what, Townshend. I’ll just brush up on my Catwoman knowledge tomorrow instead of coming by after I leave the stadium. And from here on out, don’t mess in my business. I will take care of my own trouble. Save your wisdom for book club and the courtroom. I am doing just fine over here.”

  And he got in his truck and drove off. Then the ass had the audacity to stop twenty feet away and watch her until she got in her car and started the engine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Float building. Tolly was the only chaperone. Tom Wright, the senior class sponsor, had broken a tooth, and Tolly had assured him that she could handle a few teenagers. All she had to do was keep them from destroying Luke’s parents’ barn and keep them out of each other’s pants. Not hard, but no fun.

  Of course, nothing was fun. Four days and Tolly still had not heard from Nathan. At first she had been mad. Now she was just miserable. And lonely.

  And, let’s face it, horny. Amid the teenage chatter, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, remembering how he tasted. His mouth always had a little chocolate hanging around in the background and his skin was salty and clean, all at the same time. As for other parts, well —

  “Miss Tolly! How does this look?” Who had asked? Emily or one of the Sarahs? Hard to tell.

  And she was forced to leave the land of tasty Nathan and look at the float yet again.

  “Looks great!” she said. Again.

  To tell the truth, it didn’t look like much beyond a mishmash of chicken wire and papier-mâché. But it was early days. By Friday, Tom had assured her, it really would look like a doghouse with a Bobcat chasing a bulldog inside.

  She wondered if she would see Nathan by then. Well, certainly she would. At least from a distance. He’d be at the dinner on Thursday night and the parade on Friday afternoon.

  “Would you mind handing me some more staples for the staple gun?” Emily/Sarah asked.

  “Sure thing!”

  These days all her words were accented by exclamation points to prove she wasn’t sad.

  Time to take another lap through the loft of the barn. There would be no trading Homecoming queen votes for sex on her watch. And they all wanted to have sex. She could practically taste it in the air, especially after the football players had come in an hour ago, damp and bruised from practice.

  They were acting like little gods too, even Kirby. Eat, drink soft drinks, and flirt was all they had done since they got here. It wasn’t her job to make them work on the float but they would not be having sex tonight, at least not in that loft and not while they were here.

  Okay. Clear loft. Time to pass the cupcakes and chips again. Remind them she was here. She started filling a basket with lunch box sized bags of chips when a smooth little voice behind her said, “You might want to wait on that.”

  “Oh?” She turned to find herself face to face with Jamie Fisher. The goodwill in her smile drained away, but she was pretty sure no one could tell. “Why do I need to wait, Jamie?”

  “My mom texted that she is on her way with pizza.”

  Well, that was a good reason. �
�Thank you for telling me.” This time she gave Jamie a genuine smile, one born of guilt. The girl was being helpful and she was a child, misguided as she might be.

  But Jamie did not smile back. She cocked her head and let her eyes travel up and down Tolly, clearly assessing her. Then she gave a half nod and walked away.

  At least Nathan hadn’t announced to his English classes that he was done with her.

  “Miss Tolly!” Ah, she knew that one. Brady. “Do we have any more blue paint?”

  “Let me check!”

  • • •

  Hours passed. Pizza passing, loft checking, art supply handing over. Finally she sat on the ground and settled into stuffing crepe paper into the chicken wire that formed the skirt of the float.

  She was considering making another lap through the loft when she heard a chorus of voices. “Hey, Coach!”

  Her heartbeat picked up, maybe from anticipation, maybe from anxiety. She didn’t fancy being ignored in front of a barn full of teenagers who knew very well they were dating — though she fancied seeing him. Oh, yes, she fancied that like no British girl had ever fancied a crumpet with her cup of tea.

  Of course, it might not be Nathan. It could be Jim Leland or one of the other assistants. Or even the basketball coach or the baseball coach.

  But no. That smooth sweet voice sailed though the air. “I am still seeing some football players here who are supposed to be in bed in less than an hour. It’s twenty minutes back to town and when I look out that door next I want to see some taillights headed in that direction.”

  He had not seen her; maybe he didn’t remember that she was chaperoning tonight. Maybe she should stand up. Maybe not. She continued to stuff her crepe paper. She only lacked a little. When she finished this section, she’d stand up. It would be time to check the loft again. And do a head count. If she’d lost anyone, she’d have to go outside.

  “Coach Scott! I need to ask you something!” Damn. That was Jamie’s voice and she was right around the corner of the float, hidden from Tolly by the big wet blob of papier-mâché that was supposed to grow into a Bobcat.