Was that hurt or anger she heard? “You’re not forcing me. This situation is mostly my fault.”
“Mostly?” he said dryly.
“All right, completely and totally my fault. Although, not on purpose. I don’t want you to lose your job, and I want the team to win.”
He shifted, and a portion of the tension in his body ebbed. “For a while, I thought maybe you wanted me run out of town.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You pretty much accused me of buttering up Miss Ada to get land.”
She waved her hand between them. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I saw how much you care about the boys on your team. Before I realized how much you’ve helped Ada the past couple of months.”
He glanced from the road to her face and back again but didn’t respond. The silence was unnerving, but she didn’t have to endure it for long. Their destination was an Italian-style bistro that sat between the doctor’s office and the bank on Main Street. At least the high-backed booths offered an illusion of privacy.
The burn of eyes following their short walk across the restaurant was worse than she expected. She slipped into the booth, but instead of sitting across from her, he scrunched her down the seat to settle next to her. They both looked to the back wall.
“What are you doing?” she whispered with a fake smile for their audience.
“This makes it look more authentic. Plus, everyone staring will give me indigestion.”
Tyler Buchanan hustled over with two menus. A white apron with an order pad stuck in the pocket covered his polo and jeans.
Glad to see a familiar face, Darcy took a menu and smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here, Tyler. How do you find the time?”
“Got to pay my car insurance somehow. I take weekend shifts usually, but I’ll pick up some hours during the week once football starts next weekend.” She’d never seen Tyler look anything but carefree. Tonight though, red stained his cheeks, and he chewed on his lip as his gaze darted between her and Robbie.
“How about some wine?” Robbie asked.
She shrugged, and he ordered a bottle of house Chianti. They silently watched Tyler pour two glasses. She took a tiny sip for show, feeling the need to keep her wits present and accounted for. Tyler stared at them as if he were trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle.
“Could you give us a minute to look over the menu?” This time her smile was strained, the boy’s intense scrutiny making her uncomfortable. He nodded and left to watch them from the server’s station.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and studied the menu. Robbie followed her lead but made no effort to keep to his side. His legs splayed wide, and her calf was plastered against the soft twill of his pants.
Tyler returned to take their orders. He was all business and unusually quiet. Without the menu to occupy her, she didn’t know where to look or what to say. She twirled her wine glass, and Robbie tapped a forefinger on the plastic red-checked tablecloth. Whispers bearing their names drifted.
“So,” she drew out, “I saw the diploma in your office. Where’d you go to school?”
“Vandy,” he said.
“Vanderbilt? Really?”
“On a football scholarship.”
“Of course,” she said.
Her initial astonishment and subsequent understanding apparently didn’t sit well. He shifted to face her. The crinkles on his forehead and between his eyes broadcasted displeasure.
“Why, ‘of course’? I had the grades to get in even without the football angle, but they offered a full ride. Why wouldn’t I take it?”
“I didn’t mean …” Her foot seemed poised near her mouth whenever they were together. “What was your major?”
“Mathematics.”
Another astonished “Really?” popped out before she could stop it.
“What did you expect? Sports Management? Basket-weaving?”
She powered past the much-deserved sarcasm. “I loved math.”
“But you majored in English, right?”
“My guidance counselor pushed me to go into something technical like engineering. In the end, my heart was in books. My focus is research-oriented. I work mainly with doctoral candidates at Emory University.”
“You really hate reading to the kids?”
“Yeah, not my thing.” Her gaze coasted to the ceiling. No way was she going to admit she thoroughly enjoyed story time and had already planned the next one, which included a costume change.
Tyler returned with their food. The massive pile of lasagna looked as unapproachable as Everest. She powered a forkful past her nonexistent appetite and into her mouth.
“What position did you play at Vandy? Wait.” She held up a hand. “Let me guess. Not offense, something on defense, am I right?”
A half-smile and raised eyebrows accompanied his nod.
“Obviously not defensive line.” She flicked a finger up and down his frame. “Cornerback?”
“Outside linebacker. I started my last two years, but I was undersized.”
Incredulity crept back in her voice. “Undersized? Seriously? You’re huge.”
“Not for the South Eastern Conference.”
“You didn’t want to go pro?”
“No chance of that. After I graduated, I considered coaching, but … I don’t know. I bounced around awhile, did some bartending, worked for the Tennessee state park system, then enlisted.”
“You could have gotten a high-paying desk job with a math degree from Vandy. Why the army?”
He delved a hand through his hair, undoing the comb’s work. “Duty to country, protecting freedoms.”
The evasive, trite answer was a red flag. She’d gotten the same sort of treatment from Logan enough to recognize it. “Where’d they send you first?”
“All my tours were in Afghanistan. Sniper. Avery had my back so I could concentrate on my targets.”
“I’m surprised the army didn’t want to keep you once you were stateside.”
“They made an offer.” He speared a bite of chicken parmesan into his mouth, his profile carved in ice.
She studied him, taking absent sips of wine. “Yet, you chose to come to a small town in Alabama to teach math and coach high school football.”
“So?” The sharpness of the single word threw up spikes on the wall between them. He chewed on another bite and swiveled his head away, apparently preferring the curious patrons to her. Silence piled up.
Undeterred, she continued, “It has to be hard being away from your family—where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
“But, whereabouts?”
“Here and there. I moved around.”
“Is your family still there?”
“Drop it.” He said it like he was giving Avery a command and expected it to be followed. She was no dog.
“Will they come to your first game?”
“What’s the story with your mother?” He fired back.
Her forced laugh masked an old pain, and she hid bitterness underneath her lightly said words. “How can I put it politely? Mama got around. I don’t even know who my daddy is. I doubt Mama even knows.”
He brushed the back of her hand with a finger. It was only then she realized she had fisted the fork like a weapon.
“Did you get teased?” His understanding rumble wiped away her false lightness, leaving in its wake a raw wound no amount of stitches could heal.
It had been fifth grade when boys took outright jabs and girls whispered about her parents. None of them had been brave enough with Logan around, but after he’d moved on to middle school, she was an unprotected gazelle on the playground.
She’d bled from their lewd suggestions about her mama and teasing guesses about her daddy. Kat had developed her cutting courtroom technique defending her, while Darcy had retreated further into her books.
The clog in her throat dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper. �
�Of course, I did. That’s when I started planning my escape from Falcon.”
“Where’d you want to go?”
“Narnia?” Darcy tried a weak laugh, but it felt out of place. He covered the back of her hand on the table with his, but she flipped it so their fingers knitted together. She stared at their joined hands. He rubbed across the sensitive skin of her wrist with his thumb.
“Your mama still alive?” he asked.
“Haven’t heard otherwise.” She took a too large gulp of her wine. The strong tannic acid made her stomach lurch. “I couldn’t understand at six years old that she was too young and immature to take care of me. I wanted her to be like the other moms. Baking cookies, coming to PTA meetings, helping with my homework. I love Ada, but I wanted normal.”
Her gaze travelled from her wine to his face. He had swallowed the space between them. His every movement flexed a muscle against her. He smelled of pine, clean and outdoorsy. Even more appealing was the comfort in his eyes as if he felt her childhood pain poignantly.
“Do you think I’m a terrible person?” The pressure in her chest grew.
“Of course not. The things you’ve done for Ada, for Logan … the three of you were lucky to have each other to hang onto.”
The childhood pain she’d carried around, nurtured even, withered under the intensity surrounding them. Unspoken words made their way from his eyes to her heart. I understand because I hurt too.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze the radiating pain out of him. Could he see that in her eyes?
He pulled his hand from hers and fiddled with his fork. “What do you think of the team so far?”
She took a deep breath. Football was safe, and maybe they both needed safe. The tension ebbed as the talk moved to quarterbacks and play calling. She even managed a few bites of food before pushing her plate away.
Tyler cleared the table, as impersonal as if they were strangers, and left the check. She pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Here, let me pay since this debacle is my fault.”
“No. The man pays on a date.”
“But, it’s not a real date, is it? Let’s at least go halfsies.”
His eyes narrowed, and his gruff voice reflected frustration. “Don’t argue with me. I’m paying.” He slapped down some bills and slid out of the booth.
Her anemic smile was for the spectators. He opened the restaurant door and gestured her through. With her eyes on the ground, she took two steps and bumped into a warm body. Hands grabbed at her upper arms.
“So sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she said as the man used her to regain his balance.
“Darcy? I heard you were back.”
“Wolf?” She tilted her head back. Soft hazel eyes crinkled with his grin. His dark hair was longer than it had been in high school and curled over his forehead and at his nape. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tight. “How’re you doing? I thought you’d moved out west somewhere.”
His eyes clouded, and his smile faltered. “I did. I’m back now though. Got a job as an EMT, but I’m woodworking on the side.”
She stepped back and half-turned toward Robbie. His cutting gaze scissored her hands off Wolf’s arms, and she weaved her fingers together behind her back.
“Robbie, do you know Jon Wolfenbarger? We went to high school together. He was my prom date.” Why had she added that last factoid? Not that it should matter considering it was nearly a decade in the past, and they were on a fake date, but Robbie looked ready to punch something or somebody.
The two men shook hands. Jon politely extricated himself, but not before raising an eyebrow and sending her a smirk on his way inside the restaurant.
Robbie opened the truck door and helped her in before sliding behind the wheel. He started the truck and revved the engine. Urgency made her stomach jump. In the near darkness, the seatbelt became a complex puzzle, one she couldn’t fit together with clumsy fingers.
He twisted in his seat and grabbed the buckle to click it home. His hair brushed her cheek, and he whispered close to her ear. “Was Jon your boyfriend or what?
“He wasn’t my boyfriend. He took me to prom because I helped him with an essay for English. He felt sorry for me.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t have any boyfriends in high school.”
His cheek coasted by hers, the spicy, clean scent of his shampoo wrapping around her. “Why not?”
She took a deep breath, barely stopping herself from pressing her face into his neck. “I was a nerd. A geek. Not athletic in a town that values sports above all else.”
He pulled back to look at her. Dim light from the street permeated the interior. Her confusion escalated when the mouth she stared at moved closer.
The tempest she’d seen behind his eyes earlier wasn’t reflected in his kiss. The kiss was gentle, sensual, and devastating. A flash of the one they’d shared in Ada’s kitchen. His tongue flicked at her lips, and she opened. Her hand crawled to his bicep, clutching and tugging him closer. He cupped her nape, his fingers massaging. The heat of his body ignited an answering flare between her legs.
His face lifted, and her eyes fluttered open. She wanted more—so much more.
“There. That should satisfy the masses.” His words didn’t make sense until she looked out the windshield to see a half-dozen faces staring through the glass window of the restaurant. Tyler was center among them, his mouth agape.
Her eyes stung with humiliated tears. A deep breath kept them in check.
“Quit mauling me.” She shoved at the hand still caressing her jaw.
He retreated and squeezed the steering wheel before reversing. He didn’t say another word, and neither did she. He stopped in front of Ada’s and made a move to help her out, but she hopped out and slammed the door shut, rocking the truck. The care she had to take on the gravel in her heels muted her huffy stalk. His truck stood sentinel until she let herself in the front door. She twitched a drape to the side and watched his taillights disappear.
“How was your date?”
“For the love of—you scared me. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Darcy hung onto the drape, her heart pounding. Ada had crept up behind her, walker and all.
“I’m not a ten-year-old. I can party all night if I want. Anyway, it’s not even eight.”
Darcy glanced at the grandfather clock. The ebb and flow of tension during dinner and in the truck had left her exhausted. The soft hum of the radio and running water came from the kitchen. She kicked off her heels and led her grandmother back into the den, settling her into the hospital bed.
“How did your date go?” Ada asked again, seemingly casual, but her blue eyes pierced.
“It wasn’t a real date,” she said for the thousandth time. “We churned up new rumors. Next week, we’ll cement them.”
“Why do you sound so depressed about it?”
“Try mad as a hornet. That man is aggravating. I don’t understand him.”
“He’s probably telling Avery the same thing about you.” Ada chuckled.
“Did you know he went to Vandy?”
“Of course. He still holds the school record for tackles in a single season.”
“He didn’t mention that.” Any other man would have bragged about their accomplishments. She’d given him the perfect opportunity. Instead, he’d disparaged his collegiate experience.
“Dalt is rather too self-effacing.” Ada opened her book, her concentration transferred to the page.
After kissing Ada on the cheek, Darcy headed to the kitchen. Kat washed plates at the sink in rhythm to the rock song that played.
“Ada give you any trouble?” Darcy asked.
“She schooled me playing gin and crazy eights.” Kat turned with a smile and dried her hands on a dishtowel. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”
Darcy collapsed in a kitchen chair and rested her arms and head on the table.
“Went that well, did it?”
“Like walking on broken glass or ho
t coals or a bed of nails—”
“I get the picture. It’s temporary. Suck it up.”
“I know. Only for a couple of weeks,” Darcy whispered. She traced fingers over lips still tingling from his kiss.
After seeing Kat off and tucking Ada in, she took the steps to her room slowly. Robbie had worn her out, and their next date would likely prove just as stressful. Yet under the anxiety and embarrassment, fake or not, she hoped he would kiss her again.
Chapter 9
Every day, Darcy’s life got more tangled up in the fabric of town. She still played nursemaid when needed, but her grandmother required less and less help. They rediscovered the joys of cooking and baking together. Darcy soaked up Ada’s stories like the moistest of rum cakes, stories she had been unable to appreciate in her youth.
Ada guilted her into volunteering at the library, but the enjoyment of the people and books stifled the sense of obligation. Then, most evenings, she covered a chapter or two with the team. She cursed the flutter in her stomach as she checked out the window for Robbie’s truck, but he never made an appearance.
On her way to meet Kat for lunch early the next week, she spotted him in conversation in front of the bank and quickened her step toward him. They did have parts to play, after all, but the blasted man actually crossed the street to avoid her. His baseball cap obscured any hint as to his feelings while she’d felt like a fool with a smile plastered on her face and a hand raised in greeting.
She accompanied Kat to practice that afternoon anyway. It certainly wasn’t to see him but to check on her boys. They waved and catcalled to her in the bleachers. She called out taunts and encouragements but quieted down when she noticed Robbie frowning in her direction.
The man who’d been constantly on her mind taught his defense how to stop the run. His ripped white T-shirt induced fantasies of continuing the work until it lay shredded on the ground. She crossed and recrossed her legs.
A plump black woman clutching a patent leather red pocketbook sidled over. “Are you the lady Miles has been going on about? Miss Darcy?”
“That’s me. You can’t be Miles’ grandmother, you’re too young.” Darcy studied the woman’s unlined face.
Slow and Steady Rush Page 10