by Amber Heart
Leigh turned to see a few guys sitting at a table to their left. Most of them were smirking at Dean. Dean’s shoulders went tense, but he gave them a nod.
“I mean, we don’t want a repeat of history. So shouldn’t you be at practice instead of out with your girlfriend?” the same guy asked as the barista stepped up to take their order.
“Shouldn’t you?” Leigh asked before Dean could speak.
“What?” the guy demanded, looking confused. “I don’t play.”
“Oh.” Leigh drew the word out. “See, I thought you must know what you were talking about. My mistake.” She turned to the barista as the guy’s mouth dropped open. “Caramel macchiato and a large black coffee to go.”
Dean was biting his lower lip and clearly fighting a smile, but he didn’t say anything as they waited for their drinks. Once they were back outside, all he said was, “You kill me, you know that?”
She shrugged, taking a sip of her hot coffee to combat the chill of the wind. “Idiots should be told they’re idiots. Otherwise they get too confident. You did fine in the game, by the way.”
He glanced at her. “You watched?”
“I was working, but they were showing it. I caught parts between tables.”
“I missed a few things.”
“So did everyone else,” Leigh countered.
“But it’s me that they’re counting on.”
“You’re only one person on a team of...however many of you there are. I think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”
“No, that’s everybody else,” he said dryly.
“It sucks, and they’re assholes.” She took another sip of coffee. “But you’ve got to get used to that if you’re going to play pro.”
“Since when are you my motivational coach?”
“I just can’t stand to see a man cry.”
Dean coughed on his sip of coffee. “Thanks, Everleigh.”
“I do what I can.” He hadn’t quite laughed, but there had been some light in his eyes again. It made her feel better.
“You know why I want to go pro?” he asked after a few moments.
“Money and women?” she teased.
“Obviously. I mean other than that,” he said, his tone growing serious.
Leigh turned to face him. He was looking out over the quad. His lower lip was between his teeth again and he looked like he was in deep thought. He got that look when he read things too. It, like most looks, was a good look for him. Get it together, Leigh. She shook herself out of her admiration and listened.
“I want to be able to give my mom enough money to do whatever the hell she wants. Up to and including leaving my dad.”
Okay. That was unexpected.
“My dad played baseball,” Dean went on. “He did pretty well, but then he tore his rotator cuff right before I was born and couldn’t pitch anymore. He ended up going to work for an insurance company. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Playing baseball, I mean. Not selling insurance.”
Dean gave a humorless laugh and a shrug. “Thing is, I suck at baseball. Every position. I started messing around, playing football with some of the guys I knew from the Y. One day one of the coaches happened to see me. He asked if I could stay over a little and work with him. I did, and I ended up impressing him so much he went and talked to the old man. Dad finally caved and let me play. And ever since then, he hasn’t gotten off my fucking back about it. One slip. One bad game. That’s when he calls.”
“He doesn’t call when the games are good?”
Dean shook his head. “No.” He finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan. “So, now that I’ve bored you with my pathetic life, why don’t you tell me something about your family? Is your dad a dick like mine?”
Leigh could see that he was desperate to change the subject, so she didn’t pursue it. “Sorry, but no. He’s pretty awesome.” After what she’d heard, she felt that owed Dean a little more than that though. “But he’s not my real dad.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
Leigh shook her head. “No. He’s not my step dad either. My mom...she had some addiction issues. The state took me away.” She cleared her throat. “They took me away a few times, actually. Mom tried, but she never could stay clean. The truth is...I don’t know who my biological dad is. And I haven’t seen my mom since 8th grade.”
“So this guy adopted you?”
Leigh could tell that Dean was shocked. She could also tell that he was trying hard not to act shocked. She appreciated it. She hated sympathy. It was what it was and it could have been worse.
“Fostered me,” Leigh corrected. “The adoption was never formal.” She shrugged. “I wish it had been, but it doesn’t matter now. Just because it’s not legal, doesn’t mean he’s not my dad.”
“So I guess that’s why this project means so much to you,” Dean said, looking down at her. That had been a hell of a story. He’d never have believed it if she hadn’t said it herself.
Leigh nodded. “I mean, I like to make good grades anyway,” she said honestly. “But yeah, this one has some personal meaning.”
“I guess I sound like I’m whining about my daddy issues,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets.
“You don’t have to go through foster care to have problems with your parents,” Leigh said firmly. “So, do you want to know why I was looking for you?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dean was slightly relieved at the change in subject. He’d never told anyone about the issues with his father and, while it was a relief in some ways, it felt strange in others.
“I had an idea to help round out the project. What if we interview a few former foster kids? Get their take on the services they’d like to see? Right now this is all pretty much from my perspective.”
“And the crap ton of research I’ve done,” Dean said indignantly.
Leigh patted him on the arm, feeling muscle move even through his thick coat. “Yes, you’re doing a great job,” she said in a patronizing tone. “Okay. My perspective and a bunch of industry professionals. But nothing from the kids who are currently living this. Seriously. What do you think?”
“It’d probably be a good idea,” he admitted. “Are we gonna have time to fit this into our schedule though?”
Leigh stopped in her tracks and clasped her hands over her heart dramatically, smiling from ear to ear. Dean stopped too.
“What?”
“I love it when you talk schedules to me!”
He laughed, slinging his arm around her shoulders once more. Her whole body heated up and she ducked her head so that he wouldn’t see her smile.
“Baby, I can talk schedules till you’re weak in the knees,” he promised, his voice going lower. “Planners, journals, free time versus work hour ratios....”
Leigh fanned her face theatrically. “Oh my. Ratios.”
“I aim to please.”
His arm was still around her. She noticed again how good he smelled. Her brain seemed to be spinning in circles.
Get a grip, Leigh!
“I can do most of the work on it,” she said matter of factly. “Getting in touch with people and getting interviews. You can help me compile it all.”
“Okay, sure.”
Dean let her go and she felt a lot colder suddenly.
“I’ll see you in a few days then,” he went on.
Was it her imagination or did he sound a little disappointed? She had to be going crazy. He had girls throwing themselves at him day in and day out. She nodded and they parted ways, both of them a little dissatisfied at the way the conversation had ended.
Chapter 6
Leigh opened the door with a sigh. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“Please, don’t look so thrilled. People will stare.”
“It’s been a hell of a day,” she said, ushering him in. “Are you limping?”
“No,” he said defensively. “I’m just...I’m being careful.”
“Aren’t you a little
young to have to walk carefully across a living room?”
Dean sat down on the couch with a groan. “Shut up.”
“You had practice today, didn’t you?”
“Just like every other damn day of my damn life.”
He’d leaned his head back against the couch. His eyes were closed and his lower lip was between his teeth again. Leigh couldn’t catch her breath all of a sudden. He was almost too sexy to be real sometimes.
“What’d you do?” she asked, making her tone brisk.
His head snapped up. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Nelson Fitzgerald knocked me flat.”
Leigh put her hand over her mouth, but a giggle still escaped.
“I’m glad to be able to make you smile,” he said sarcastically. “I’m glad that knowing I got squished into the AstroTurf by a 300 pound defensive linebacker--”
She was laughing in earnest now. Dean gave a short laugh too, but it was followed by a pained expression.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m in enough pain here. Do you think that you could manage to at least not make it worse?”
Leigh did her best to wipe her expression of anything but sympathy. She knew that she hadn’t succeeded entirely, but she also knew that he wasn’t really mad. “I’ll do my best. Want some ibuprofen or something?”
“Nah,” he said bravely. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sit up straight.”
He moved to comply and then leaned back again. “Okay, maybe one or two.”
She went into the kitchen and shook two pills into her hand. Then she filled a glass with water and brought it back to him, sitting down beside him on the couch as carefully as she could. He swallowed the pills dry and then downed half of the water without taking a breath.
“Thanks, Everleigh.”
“I’m so glad that’s catching on,” she said. It had been a week since they’d had coffee together and he’d managed to sneak in at least one use of her full name every time they’d seen each other since.
He leaned his head back again. “I still don’t see why it pisses you off. It’s a cool name.”
Leigh shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”
He gave her a sideways grin. “So are you.” She smacked him and he groaned; it was a little more theatrical than it needed to be, but only a little. “You’re a shitty nurse, you know that?”
“You said you’d be fine,” she reminded.
“I lied. I think I’m dying.”
“Did you get it checked out?”
“Yeah. They say I’m not, but they just want me in Saturday’s game.”
“What did they really say?” she asked practically.
“Pulled muscle, you cold woman. I’m supposed to rest it.”
“So why aren’t you?”
“Because I had to see you!” he said, his tone indignant.
“Aw, I admire your dedication. Isn’t ice good for a pulled muscle?”
“They said something like that.”
“You know what else would probably help?”
“A Jacuzzi. A massage. Getting drunk.”
“No. Pizza and a horror movie.”
Dean opened his eyes. “What about our schedule?”
“Screw the schedule.”
“Keep talking.”
“I want a huge pizza. Extra cheese. Smothered in cheese, in fact. And then covered in pepperoni and sausage and green peppers and black olives.”
Dean hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 7:30. He was dangerously close to drooling just imagining it. “Lose the olives and I’m in.”
“I will, but only because you’re hurt.” Leigh stood up. “I’ll get you an ice pack when I pick it up.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Leigh tossed him the remote and stood up. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Dean lay back on the couch and put his feet up, channel surfing halfheartedly. He remembered to keep the volume down. He wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation with her crazy roommate. He’d only seen the girl once; when she came out of her room to “politely” ask the two of them to keep it down one night when they’d been arguing about project timelines. Dean still didn’t see why proofreading needed to take an entire week. He usually did it five minutes before he turned an assignment in.
Everleigh had apologized to her roommate and, even keeping her voice down, she’d won the argument. Dean smiled just from remembering it. Most girls didn’t argue with him, or if they did, it was just for fun and they always let him win. She never backed down and it was hot as hell.
He barely noticed what channel he was watching, his thoughts were so focused on his project partner. Over the past few weeks he’d come to notice more and more how sexy she was. He’d always liked that long brown hair and those ocean deep blue eyes. But she was funny and smart too. She didn’t take shit and she gave as good as she got. And her legs were about a mile long and he wanted them wrapped around him.
Everleigh never seemed to notice it though. She treated him like a friend. She never called unless she had some work to talk about. And when he put his arm around her...which he did as often as he could get away with...she didn’t lean into him. But sometimes he caught her looking at him. Sometimes he caught a blush on her high cheekbones and he would have killed to know what she was thinking about in those moments.
Dean shifted on the couch, trying to focus on the television. This was definitely the wrong line of thought for a guy with a pulled back muscle. Even if she’d come through the door in lingerie and begged him to take her right then and there, he wouldn’t have accomplished much.
“But I’d give it a try for damn sure,” he muttered.
****
Half an hour later she breezed back in, a massive pizza box in her hands. There was a 2 liter balanced on top of it. A pharmacy bag dangled from her wrist. Lightning struck just as she stepped over the threshold and then rain started pouring down.
“Do I have great timing or what?” Leigh demanded kicking the door shut behind her. “And don’t get up!” she ordered when he started to move. “I got it.” She lowered the pizza box to the coffee table and put the 2 liter on the floor. “I’ll get the ice pack in the freezer and then we’ll watch a movie.”
Dean eased back into a sitting position. The painkillers had dented the ache. The prospect of pizza helped too.
Leigh came back with two plates and refilled his glass as he flipped open the pizza box. “God, that looks good. How much do I owe you?”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I would have bought the exact same amount of pizza whether you were here or not.” That, she mused as she looked at the huge box, was simply the cold hard truth. Eating her feelings was a specialty of hers.
“Come on, you work 2 jobs. I’m not an asshole.”
“I know that. You can get the next one.”
“Sounds good.” He took a bite and chewed in contentment. “We should do this once a week. It’s a hell of a lot better than compiling research.”
“Tonight it is,” she agreed, putting two slices on her own plate and then going to the DVD shelves.
“What are we watching?” he asked.
“You’ll see.”
She inserted a disc and joined him on the couch, biting into her own slice and sighing happily. “This is so good.”
“What went wrong with your day?” he asked as previews began to play. He’d meant to ask before, but she’d distracted him with concern and pizza.
Leigh gave a rueful smile. “What didn’t? Double shift at the coffee house because Rebecca is out sick. I had to work the front counter and it seemed like everyone was having a bad day. If I get yelled at more than 3 times an hour my day goes downhill fast.”
“Who yelled at you?” Dean demanded.
She shrugged. “Lots of people.” It seemed like everyone’s coffee was either too hot or too cold or too sweet or too bitter or a thousand other complaints. “I think it’s the weather. Everyone was on edge wa
iting for it to rain.” She glanced out the front window. “I’m glad it finally started.”
Dean scowled, not willing to be distracted. “I hope you spit in their coffee.”
She laughed. “I thought about it really hard, but I maintained my professionalism.”
“What else happened?”
“My roommate moved out. She didn’t even say anything, which goes along well with her behavior this whole semester. I found a note on the kitchen table when I got home from work. Apparently she’s moving in with her boyfriend.”