Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance)

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Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance) Page 14

by Pace, Alicia Hunter


  “What is it, Jamie?” he asked.

  “I was outside in the hot tub last night reading the assignment and I wanted to ask you a question about it.”

  Oh, good cow. She wanted him to picture her naked in a hot tub. Outside. At night.

  “Yeah? All right, then. What’s your question?”

  “The part where Mr. Darcy asks Elizabeth to marry him? And she turns him down? I don’t understand. If she wanted him so much, why didn’t she just say yes?”

  “He had insulted her family, had indicated that he was doing her a favor by proposing.”

  “But still. He was hot.”

  That got a laugh out of Nathan. Not good. Worse than not good.

  “And if I thought somebody was that hot, and he wanted me, I wouldn’t care about anything else. I’d overlook the bad parts. Isn’t that what love is? Just doing what you’ve got to do to have that person?”

  He laughed a little more. “It might be, Jamie, but it probably shouldn’t be. I think Jane Austen probably got it right.”

  “But didn’t you say she never married, never had anybody?” Jamie asked.

  “It’s true that she never married. We don’t know if she ever had anybody or not.”

  “Still. In that day and age. Not being married was just the same as not having anybody.” Tolly wanted to leap out and break this up. Badly. It needed doing.

  “You might be right about that.” Tolly could tell by his tone that Nathan was getting bored. Good. He would walk away soon.

  “So, how could she have it right? Wouldn’t you do whatever you had to?”

  “Depends on what it was I wanted and what I had to do.” Tolly could picture him looking around now. “Jamie, we can take this up in class. Have you seen Miss Lee? Wasn’t she supposed to chaperone tonight?”

  Tolly’s heart gave a little leap.

  “She’s around here somewhere.” Jamie’s voice had a pout in it. “Probably in the loft. She’s spent half the night up there.”

  “Yeah?”

  It was time to speak. “I’m not in the loft. I’m right here, making a float.” Unlike some I could name, she could have added but thought better of it.

  She didn’t miss the grimace when he squatted down beside her. Squatting had to hurt his knee, but after their last exchange, she wasn’t about to insinuate that there was one thing in this universe that he wasn’t capable to doing alone.

  “Hey.” There was a little tenderness in the greeting, a little question on his face.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “My boys behave themselves tonight?”

  She nodded. “They did. I can’t say they were overly industrious about float building and I didn’t monitor their junk food intake, but they didn’t burn the barn down, bring any beer, or have sex.”

  “Just as long they didn’t sass you.”

  “You mean you don’t care if they traded Homecoming queen votes for sex, so long as they were polite about it?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. It was a laugh of relief — relief that the ice was broken. She could relate.

  “So long as they were polite to you,” he said. He picked her hand up and inspected it. “Your fingers are blue.”

  “Crepe paper stains.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “So you didn’t do any float building in your high school days?”

  “I hung out at the float building.” He smiled like he cared if she noticed.

  “Like Coach, like players.”

  He moved his thumb across her knuckles. “How long you here for?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “I’ve already been to the freshman float site. I’m going back into town and go by the sophomores and juniors.”

  “Yes?”

  He pushed his hair back. “Do you want to get something to eat? Or maybe I could come over for a bit?”

  Relief shot though her. Everything was going to be all right. They wouldn’t talk about what happened, but what of it? It was just a spat.

  “I’m not hungry, but I have some chili in the refrigerator if you are. It’s even made to the nutrition plan specifications.”

  “Yeah?” Oh, there it was! That sweet misty look. That half smile. “Did you make it?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? How do you sort of make chili?”

  “It means I made the plan and paid Rosemary Jackson to make some meals and freeze them.”

  “So Rosemary Jackson made the chili?”

  “Technically.”

  “So sort of means no. At least as pertains to chili making and Townshend?”

  “Uh, yes. It means no. Mostly.”

  He smiled again. “Got any crackers? I like crackers with my chili. And not fancy crackers either. Plain old saltines.”

  “I just might.” She squeezed his hand.

  “What does might mean as pertains to having saltines?”

  “It means no, but I am willing to stop and buy some.” And tomorrow she would call her broker and instruct him to buy stock in saltines.

  He rose. “Well, I guess I should — ”

  Just then Jamie Fisher rounded the corner. “Coach! Any chance you could give me a ride back to town?”

  Nathan’s mouth dropped open. He wouldn’t do that, no question. It was not appropriate.

  “I’ll take you, Jamie,” Tolly said quickly. “Coach Scott has to make a couple of stops.”

  “Oh.” Jamie looked around. “Wait. There’s Morgan. I thought she had left me. I guess I don’t need a ride after all.” And she stomped off.

  Nathan shook his head. “Kids.”

  She could not let this rest. It was too important.

  “Nathan … ”

  His head whipped around. “Townshend, do not. Please. I acknowledge that she has a crush on me. But I’ve got this. I wasn’t going to take her home. I am never alone with female students.”

  She drew him to the far corner of the barn.

  “I know you wouldn’t do anything improper. I know you were not going to take her home.”

  “Then why did you jump in there and offer to do it?”

  That was a good question. “I don’t know. I was trying to help you. I should have let you tell her no. That would have been better.”

  “Damn Skippy!” He closed his eyes and raised his hands in the air. “Townshend, you have got to let me tend to my own business. I did very well without you for a long time.”

  “All right. I’m sorry. But you need to acknowledge that this is not your garden variety little girl crush. That girl is dangerous.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Instinct. My gut tells me.”

  “Even if that were true, she is not a danger to me. She is a kid. Surely you don’t think I would be tempted by her.”

  “No! I never meant that. But she could get you in trouble. Serious trouble.”

  “Like you almost did?”

  That, always that, lurking around, waiting to ruin chili eating, movie watching, and the rest of their lives.

  She bit her lip. “I thought you said we were leaving that behind. That you were done with it.”

  “Fair enough. But this other thing. If I don’t do anything wrong, if I am not alone with her, she cannot possibly get me in trouble. I am not twenty-one years old anymore. I am in control.”

  “You would be better in control if you would consider that I might be right.”

  “So. Listen. It has just occurred to me that I need to do some drive-bys and make sure some boys are home where they are supposed be and not out rolling yards. I am going to have to opt out on the chili.” And he turned and left, without so much as a backward glance.

>   Well. At least she wouldn’t have to stop and buy crackers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathan lined his team up in the lobby of the Merritt Inn to inspect their appearances. He had required them to wear coats and ties for the alumni dinner. He had pondered that for a long time, afraid all of them didn’t have dress clothes. But Jim Leland had reminded him that most of them were churchgoers and they could borrow back and forth.

  And they had all worked it out. Some of them had on athletic shoes, but that was okay. He’d had to tie a few ties and pass around a lint roller, but they all looked nice.

  “Okay,” he said. “There are a bunch of old Bobcats in there, including Coach Lamon Coal. He coached me. He coached my father and he coached a good percentage of the alums here tonight. What do I want to see from you?”

  “You want us to be respectful and mind our manners.”

  “That’s right, Marcus. And why is that? Emmanuel?”

  “Because we are Merritt Bobcats. It is not enough for us to behave as well as everybody else. We have to be better. And if you catch us acting like entitled little kings, you’ll run us until we puke. Only we wouldn’t say puke at the table.”

  There was a little laughter, because the team was envisioning Emmanuel mimicking him, which he could do perfectly. Only the boys didn’t know Nathan knew it. When he’d caught the show the first time, he’d had to lock his office until he stopped laughing. The boy was not being disrespectful; it was all in fun, but still it wouldn’t do to let his team know he knew.

  “That’s right. No elbows on the table. No eating with your hands. Napkin in your lap. No yelling across the room. No throwing food — and that means pass the breadbasket instead of tossing rolls. Keep your ties out of the gravy.”

  This gave him an idea. He needed to get that cotillion woman in here to teach them some table manners. Who was it? Townshend would know. He’d ask her just as soon as they were talking again.

  “We’re not allowed gravy, Coach.” That came from Kyron Austin, who liked his gravy. “It’s not on the nutrition plan.”

  “Not sure we’re having gravy. But tonight, you eat what’s put in front of you and keep your ties out of it.” The next item on the agenda sent a lonely little chill through him. “Now, you know lots of your mothers are serving you tonight and I want to hear plenty of ‘yes ma’ams’ and ‘thank yous.’ Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” they chorused. They were tired, dead tired. And so was he. Homecoming week was a killer and they weren’t done yet. After this dinner, there was the prayer meeting at the Baptist church. Tomorrow night was the parade and bonfire. Then Friday left no breathing room at all.

  “Okay. It’s been a big week and it’s just getting bigger, so no stadium cleaning and film watching this Saturday — that is, if you all behave yourselves.”

  A surprised murmur went thought the crowd.

  “But who’s going to clean our house, Coach?” Lamar Bennet asked.

  “You are. But this time it will keep until Monday. We’ll watch film and go out without pads for a little while.”

  Louder murmurs, practically jubilant.

  “Now, wait a minute. I said, if you behave yourselves. That means minding your manners, making curfew, and playing to your full potential Friday night. One of you can ruin it for the whole team. And why is that?”

  “We are one!” they yelled, just like he’d taught them.

  “Yeah? All right, then. Never forget it. Now, I’ve heard some of you say you want to go camping before it gets too cold. I know some of you just want to sleep, and some of you need to study. So do that, if you want to, on your day off. But I expect to see you at that Homecoming Dance after the game. I know you’re tired and some of you would like to skip it, but the committee has worked hard on it. I’ll be there and you will too.”

  And so would Townshend.

  “All right. Any questions?”

  Silence. Maybe he should ask them some questions. How was he supposed to deal with seeing Townshend in there, serving salad and chicken? Why could they not be in the same room without arguing? Were they broken up? Had they ever really been together? What was supposed to happen next and who was supposed to make it happen? He was still miffed at her, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted rid of her.

  No doubt, these boys ran their romances better than he was running this one.

  Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? God knows, between getting through Homecoming week, dealing with Keith Grayson, and fielding questions about that damned Daryl Grayson country club scene, he ought not to have a spare minute to think about Townshend. But she was always there.

  “All right, then,” he said to the team. “Let’s go to supper. Kirby, lead the way. The rest of you, follow your QB-One, like you always do.” He leveled a look at Keith Grayson, who had the good sense to meet his eyes and nod.

  What passed for a ballroom at the Merritt Inn was full. At one time, Nathan had thought it was the biggest room in the country. But he’d been in other rooms since then.

  The second Kirby opened the door, the applause and catcalls started. The room was on their feet for the team that had given Merritt the first winning season in five years.

  No championship this year. But he figured playoffs next year — maybe even regional champs. And the year after, state. He’d experienced it as a player and he would give it to this town as a coach. The boys filed in and sat at the tables that had been reserved for them.

  Nathan would have preferred to sit with them and his assistant coaches, or at least with the alums from his class. But no. He had to go sit at the head table with Senator Avery, the superintendent of education, the principal, Coach Coal, and — damn it all to hell — Daryl Grayson.

  And damn it all to hell again. They had Daryl between him and Coach Coal. On the other side of the podium, the senator was between Superintendent Margaret Rockwell and Principal Sydney Malone.

  If he’d thought of it, he would have told somebody to fix it where he wouldn’t have to sit by Daryl, but when would he have had time to think of that? He had a game to win, plus he had exerted much time and energy trying to get his team in their beds at an appropriate time and — come to think of it — himself in Townshend’s bed. Not that it had worked out.

  He shook hands down the line, pausing to hug Coach Coal, who, so long ago, had praised him when he deserved it and punished him when he had it coming. He had arrived this afternoon and Nathan hadn’t seen him yet.

  Nathan whispered to him, “I would have preferred to sit by you.”

  “I know you would, son, but we’ll catch up Saturday before I fly back. You won’t have a minute to spare until then.” They talked every few months, but Coach Coal had moved to Florida after his retirement, and they hadn’t seen each other in years. This was the first time he’d come back for Homecoming since his retirement. “Now you go suffer a fool.” He nodded toward Daryl. “It builds character.”

  “Don’t remember you suffering many fools.”

  The older man chuckled. “I want you to have more character than I do.”

  “You’ll be with us on the sidelines Friday night, won’t you? Got a headset with your name on it.”

  Coach Coal’s eyes misted. “I reckon you’ve done more fool suffering that I would have figured. I’d be honored.”

  “All right, then.” He slid into his seat.

  Suffer a fool. Suffer Townshend. He didn’t know which was worse.

  Townshend might as well have been a burning bush, standing at the back of the room with the gaggle of mothers — she stood out that much. She was wearing an apron — bright blue with a big “7" on the front, along with the words “Proud Quarterback Mom.”

  His dad had always served at this dinner when Nathan was in high school, had insisted. They hadn’t had aprons then, but all the mot
hers were wearing them now. Townshend was the only one wearing pearls. And what was that on her face? A bruise? His stomach bottomed out and he squinted to get a better look. Not a bruise. She had painted a bobcat paw on her cheek. A little tenderness shot through him. The other mothers always did that for the game, and she kept intending to and forgetting. Evidently, she’d thought of it today. Of course, she was the only one. She looked adorable and he had to remind himself that he was still mad at her. She wasn’t looking at him but he looked at his salad plate, in case she did. He certainly wasn’t going to look at her.

  He didn’t look at Daryl either. He hadn’t seen or heard from him since the scene, though he’d heard plenty about it from sincere sympathizers, as well as gossips hungry for a reaction. His response had been the same for everyone. “Daryl was upset. I appreciate that he came directly to me.” And that was all.

  Mr. Malone rose and welcomed people and said a lot of good things about the team and a lot of stuff about Nathan that didn’t matter.

  The principal made some joke about everyone being hungry and the Baptist minister rose from the Class of ’73 table to pray over the food. He prayed a long time. Baptists did that.

  Nathan sneaked a peek at Townshend. Eyes closed, head bowed, like a good girl. Which reminded him. He looked at his team. Only a couple of them were looking around. He gave them the stink eye and they bowed their heads.

  Maybe he ought to pray that Daryl wouldn’t try to cause another scene. But even if he tried, there would be no scene because Nathan simply would not participate. He still could not believe he had let himself be baited that night, when there was nothing he hated worse than loud public drama. He would have probably married Shelley Windley eight years ago if she hadn’t thrown a fit in a restaurant because they’d had the audacity to put dressing on her salad instead of bringing it on the side. Of course, they’d probably be divorced by now. Looking back, Shelly had been another Townshend clone, though he couldn’t see her in an apron at a high school dinner.

  He sneaked another peek. Townshend was holding a tea pitcher. At least they weren’t going to turn her loose with a vat of soup. Not that they would have soup. These dinners were always the same — the salad that was already on the table. There would be a plate of chicken, some kind of rice, and some limp broccoli. Or it might be green beans. Then there would be a square of cake or cobbler. Her head was still bowed. She should set that pitcher down. It had to be heavy.

 

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