Fourth and Long

by Michele M. Rakes

  “Folks from South Carolina call this hill a mountain, can you believe it?” he asks.

  “Well, if I’d never seen a mountain, I’d think this was it, frankly.”

  When we finally clear the woods, a lodge-style log house rises up surrounded by the forest. The grass of the front yard needs mowing and a waterfall bubbles into a pond. I glance at Jacks. He’s looking at the house with reverence.

  “My grandfather built this cabin. Around back a stream, fed from an underground spring, runs through the property. The freshest water I’ve ever tasted. I bottle it up when I go on the road.” He indicates off to his right, but all I see are trees. We get out, and I follow him up the path to the big wooden door.

  “Your grandfather built this house?”

  “All the way down to the front door.” Jacks runs his hands over the smooth wood. A stained-glass window depicting the mountain is set in a cast-iron frame. He pushes the door open.

  Inside, the house is amazing, just as warm and welcoming as Jackson. The cabin reminds me of him. The kitchen’s straight ahead, and sliding glass doors look out onto a patio. I can see a grill and a fire pit. There’s a backyard and then nothing but trees.

  Jacks motions for me to follow him into the sunken living room. A huge fireplace dominates the far wall. The open-beamed ceiling adds to the expanse of the room. Brown, worn leather furniture seems unable to fill the space. At the back wall, a large picture window shows the vista of the forest. A staircase to the right leads to the loft. On the floor, a furry, white throw rug rests in front of the fireplace. I arch my brow at him. He shrugs.

  “Mom wanted the bearskin rug look without all the death.”

  I laugh. “I bet I would’ve liked her. If she’s anything like you.”

  Jacks grins. “Oh, she’s a better quarterback than me.”

  “Your momma played quarterback?”

  “Yep. My dad was a quarterback too.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Don’t know. He left when I was born. I never knew him.”

  “Sorry, bro. Did he play college ball?”

  “Yeah. Don’t ask if he ever went pro. I don’t even know his name.”

  “Did you ever try to find out?”

  “Hell no. I don’t want anything to do with him. He wasn’t good to Mom.”

  “Is that what your momma told you?”

  Jacks shakes his head. “No, she didn’t talk about him. I met him once, when I was five, and he made Mom cry. Not good. I told him to get out. He laughed at me, but then Grandpa came in with his shotgun. He left in a big hurry. My grandpa was a redhead, meaner than a snake if you threatened me or mom. Hey, are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “I’ll fire up the grill. Steak or burgers?”

  “If I’ve got a choice, I’ll take steak every time.”

  Jacks grins like there was a right or wrong answer to the question, and I got it right. He tosses his bag by the stairs. I follow him as he hustles back through the doorway to the kitchen. In the freezer, he digs around, pulling out butcher-paper-wrapped packages. “These are elk steaks. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “You hunt?” I honestly can’t imagine Jacks killing anything other than a defensive player’s ego.

  Jacks laughs. “Nope. My buddy who lives in Montana doesn’t take me hunting. Not if he wants to get anything.”

  “You a Bambi lover?”

  “Yep, but does make for good eating. ’Sides, elk ain’t Bambi. I do fish, though, out in the crick.”

  “The what?”

  “The crick out back.”

  “Still don’t follow,” I say.

  “You all say creek,” he repeats slowly.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “We’ll sit out there sometime and catch us some fish. Rainbow mostly. Good for grilling.” He sets the steaks on the counter. “They’re hard as a rock. How about I show you the view first.”

  “Lead the way.” I check out his ass while I trail him into the sunshine. “It’s so quiet out here. No traffic noise.”

  “No major roads nearby. You get the occasional plane overhead. There’s an airstrip not far. Other than that, it’s just the sounds of nature.”

  “I’m a city boy. To me, gunfire is the sound of the wild.”

  “Well, then, city boy, follow me and open your ears.”

  Jacks walks out the back of the yard into the woods. The temperature is cooler here, and I can’t describe the aroma except that it whiffs of Jacks. Like the earth. He runs his hands over some moss crawling up a tree. I lean in to inhale the scent. He laughs.

  “What’re you doing?” Jacks asks.

  “I’m huffing nature.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s it smell like?”

  “You.”

  He stands so close to me; I could reach out and pull him in for a kiss. His eyes watch me lick my lips. I do that when I’m nervous. When I’m afraid I’m going to do something that’ll get me in trouble. My auntie always caught me that way. I think Jacks might too.

  His smile sparks into existence. “You’re so full of shit, Irus. Come on.”

  I can breathe again but barely. I’m trudging through the woods, through nature, and I’m more afraid than I am back in the ’hood. Of what might be in the forest but also what I might do alone with Jacks. “Are there things out here that can eat us?”

  “Yeah, sometimes.” He laughs. “Not usually. Occasionally, bear or mountain lion. Not so much in recent years. My mom once called a mountain lion down from the hill over there, ya know? Like to dinner.”

  “What?”

  “It was at night. The lights only illuminate part of the yard. She was calling the cats in for dinner and saw the eyes reflecting. So she kept calling, ‘Here, kitty-kitty-kitty,’ and it came closer.”

  “What’d she do?”

  “Well, she slowly fed it the cat food and backed up into the house while it ate.”

  “Your momma had balls that clank, boy.”

  “You don’t even want to hear about the bear.”

  “You’re scaring me. Stop it.”

  “Don’t worry, Iris. I’ll hold your hand.”

  My heart stutters as he slips his warm hand into mine. I start to say something when we come to a clearing atop a cliff. Across from us looms the mountain. I’m speechless. Jacks chuckles next to me. His hand is now in his pocket. I’m too in awe of the view to bemoan the loss.

  “It’s like seeing the moon when it’s really close to the earth,” he says.

  All I can do is nod, my mouth hanging open. Jacks’s fingertips graze the hair on my chin, closing my mouth.

  “You’ll catch flies. That’s what Mom always said.”

  “You’re a lot like her, aren’t you?” Does he like football players too? Lord help me. If I kiss him, I might just blow the door off my closet. I can’t risk it. Not yet, not without knowing for sure. He’s looking at me, though, with those dark blue eyes, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. I’m too chickenshit to do anything.

  “Well, we should get back so we can start those steaks.”

  A scream, like a fucking monkey, startles me right out of my skin. All thoughts of kissing Jackson are gone, and the prick’s laughing at me. I clutch my chest. “What the hell was that?”

  “A screech owl. Like I said, Iris. I’ll protect you from nature.”

  “You know, smart-ass, they don’t call it the wilderness for nothing. It’s wild.”

  “So’s the city. Used to gunshots and you leap from your skin over an owl hooting.”

  “That wasn’t a hoot, bitch. That was a scream.”

  “You know what else screams?”

  I look around. “What?”

  “Mountain lions. They sound like a woman screaming. I used to wake up hearing her scream, the mountain lion my mom had fed, and think my dad had come back to hurt my mom.”

  “What are cougars, then?”

  “Well, they’re mountain lions, or older women who like t
o fuck the shit outta younger guys.”

  “Again, you’re a smart-ass.”

  “Better than being a dumb-ass.”

  On the way back to the cabin, I can’t help thinking about the impression Jacks’s father made on him. It must’ve been hard to trust men growing up. Makes me thankful for Uncle Clyde.

  “You know, I wasn’t raised by my father,” I say to keep the conversation going. “I was raised by my auntie and uncle. I know my dad, though, and my mom. They’re huge fans.”

  “Why didn’t they raise you?”

  “They were college kids. They didn’t stay together, but they’re still friends. Sometimes they come up for the home games. I’ll introduce you. I come from a huge family. Anyway, my auntie and uncle couldn’t have kids, so it worked out. My Uncle Clyde is a high school football coach. Auntie’s an English teacher.”

  Jacks is quiet the rest of the way. Did I say something wrong? When we get to the house, he lights the grill. Jacks transforms before my eyes into the grill master extraordinaire. I watch him move between the outside kitchen and the inside one. He won’t let me help, but God, I want to, so I can be next to him. The urge to touch him is so strong. At some point, my resolve is gonna give way. I’ll reach out to pull him into a sweet kiss and get decked for sure.

  Jacks pokes at the steaks and sticks his finger in his mouth, sucking the juices loudly. “Hmmm… This meat is so tasty.”

  Good Lord. Does Jacks have any clue what he’s doing to me?

  We sit at the table on the patio to eat. Each slice of the tender meat melts in my mouth. Jacks eats like a man starving. I’m hypnotized by the way his tongue guides every morsel past his lips. Wish that tongue would guide me inside him. Save me, sweet Jesus.

  Jacks leans back, satisfaction apparent in his expression, and he rubs his belly. He catches sight of me staring and smiles. “Been a while since I had food this good. You wanting some dessert?”

  Perhaps it’s my imagination, but I catch a bit of wickedness in his voice. “I better not. In training and all.”

  “Your loss,” he says.

  When it gets dark, Jacks lights the citronella candles and torches to keep the mosquitos away. He also loads up the pit with a stack of wood, lighting a large fire.

  “It’s not too late in the season for mosquitos,” he says. “With the creek over yonder and some standing water nearby from the rains, we get bugs late in the year.”

  “Over yonder?”

  “My grandpa was from the South. Yes, I say Worshington. Don’t start.”

  “You mean like this Worcestershire sauce.”

  “Oh, that’s bad, Iris.”

  “You know, I like it when you call me Irus.”

  “Irus, huh? What kind of name is that, anyway?”

  “I dunno. It was my great-great-grandfather’s name.”

  “Well, it’s cool,” Jacks says.

  “I’m surprised you think it’s cool, the way you be callin’ me Iris all the time.”

  “Gotta flip you shit, man. Can’t have you thinking you’re all that, can I?”

  “Nothing but love, huh?”

  “You got it, Iris.”

  The fire pops and crackles. Jackson points at the sky. When I look, he hits a switch nestled in a cubby cut into the arm of his Adirondack chair, turning out the perimeter lights. I start to marvel over the technology, but the panorama of stars comes into view, blowing my mind. Oh shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this. The deep purple swath a vast canvas of light. Awe-inspiring brushstrokes laying out billions of glittering galaxies painted eons before our existence. The moon’s full. So majestic coming over the trees.

  “Once the moon is up, the stars won’t be as bright, but as long as she’s over there, you can almost see forever.” Jacks’s face is upturned, scanning the heavens, and I watch his boyish fascination. Admiration. The man appreciates everything around him.

  I’ve never really looked at any other man, except Kane, with this kind of deep longing. I reach for Jacks, barely brushing his shoulder, and he shifts only a little. The firm muscle beneath my fingers ripples. I squeeze him. He doesn’t move away. What more do I need to entice a kiss from him? The thought is just too scary. “Thank you for a fine meal. This was an excellent evening, but I’ve got to be going. We got practice early.”

  He turns his handsome face to meet my gaze. A curious smirk plays at the corner of his lips. The reflection of the torchlight in his blue eyes floors me. “You going to be able to find your way back to the city?”

  The bastard has me there, but I can’t stay. If I do, then—

  “You’ve got GPS, right?” he asks, sounding concerned.

  “Yeah, I’ll be good. You go inside and stay away from the cougars.”

  “The women or the big cats?”

  Oh Lord, he is testing me. I give him a wry expression and pick up my plate.

  “Leave it. The raccoons will take care of the scraps.”

  He walks me out to my car. I feel like I’m on a first date. I don’t know if I should kiss him good night or shake his hand. “I enjoyed nature that smells like you, Jacks.”

  “Thanks, I think. After practice tomorrow, I’m gonna smell like sweaty balls.”

  My dick twitches. Fuck me. Oh shit! I gotta get home and wash his jersey. Now it’s really fuck me. “Thanks again for the steak. It was good. I’d never had elk before. It’s a richer flavor.”

  “I’ve got some buffalo meat in there. Next time I’ll make us burgers.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I climb into my car before I wind up kissing him, and buckle up. A tap on the window startles me. I roll it down. Jacks leans in and says, “You know, you’re driving a redneck’s car?”

  I grin. I adore my Dodge Charger. “Gotta love that Hemi engine. It’s pimpin’ purple, at least.”

  Jacks’s face gets all serious. My gut churns. “Thanks for picking me up at the airport, and thanks for calling me every night for four weeks. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

  The smell of the elk meat on his breath, with a hint of garlic and pepper, is inviting. Like everything about this man. He’s so close. I think he can hear me swallow. He waits another second and pulls out of the window, slapping the car like a cowboy does a horse. Like in the movies.

  “Get home, Irus. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I jockey the car around, heading out into the dark forest. In my rearview, I see Jacks watch me for a second and then walk into the house. Damn it. I came so close to having what I wanted, but I bail just when I believe he’s offering me something real.

  Chapter Ten

  Highlanders vs. Cougars

  Away Game, Billings, MT

  Jackson McCoy

  “Fans are going wild. This has been a brutal game. Neither team giving an inch. It’s coming down to the last minutes of the fourth quarter. Highlanders’ defense has been all over this Cougar offense tonight. It’s still anybody’s game.”

  Christ. I’m gonna throw up. This is driving me nuts. “Coach, let me play! We got to get something going with our offense. We need a touchdown. They can’t come back to win if we score.”

  “Sit down, McCoy. It’s too soon to put you on the field. Maybe next game. You tightened up in practice.”

  “The defense is getting tired. The offense needs to execute! I can make it happen, Coach.”

  “Look at the scoreboard. We’re in the lead. We just have to hold them off.”

  “Only by a field goal. That’s not enough!”

  I’m running after him. He’s fast for a big guy. “Coach, me and Mal, we’ve been working all week. Our timing’s still there. I got this. Run the pick play. Irus can get the ball. Turn it over before they score. Give me the goddamn ball!”

  “Arguing with me isn’t going to do you any favors, Jackson. Sit down.”

  “Then why’d you have me suit up?”

  Coach stops. He looks around. “To scare them. Make them think there’s a chance I’l
l put you in, and to encourage our offense.”

  The crowd erupts, I look past Coach, who’s already spun to see what’s happening. It’s a breakaway run. Irus is on him like a lion. He takes the runner down, but the damage is done. They’re in our red zone. Our defense is exhausted. Leonard’s subbed in to give Irus a chance to recover. I run up to him. He’s breathless, leaning over heaving like he’s gonna throw up.

  “Thank God you were there, Irus.”

  He nods. “Man, he’s fast.”

  “It’s a breakdown in coverage,” I say. “Olsen should’ve had him.”

  “Been out there most of the game. Something’s got to give with our offense. We’re drained, bro. Offense has to execute. Get downs. This shit’s too hard for us to carry alone.”

  “I tried to get Coach to put me in—”

  “No fucking way, bro. Not yet. Save it for the Pirates.”

  “I gotta get on that field. If you go out and intercept, turn it over, I know I can get in their end zone. One pass, maybe two—yeah, I can get in with two downs. Mal and I’ve been practicing.”

  “No. I’ll go for the pick if I get the chance or Coach calls the play. You ain’t going anywhere near the field, Jacks, until Coach says so.”

  “It’s too close.”

  Irus smacks my ass. This time he winks at me as he runs onto the field, lining up to stop their number one receiver. The center snaps the ball. Their quarterback goes through his progressions. We’ve got everyone covered. Our pass rushers force the quarterback to Irus’s side of the field. He’s gonna test Irus. The son of a bitch is gonna throw on the best corner in the league. Yes.

  Irus looks for the ball. He goes up. He’s gonna pick it, but the receiver grabs Irus’s jersey, turning his body for an incomplete pass. Coach screams before they even hit the ground. Irus tumbles out of bounds.

  “Throw the flag! Offensive pass interference.” Coach runs down the sidelines. “Throw the flag.”

  “Nope,” says the referee.

  “What? That’s textbook offensive pass interference!”

  “That’s not how I saw it,” says the ref as he walks away.

  Both teams have already lined up. Coach can’t challenge. We have to take it, and it’s already past the two-minute warning. All I can do is watch as they score a touchdown against us in the last seconds of the game. I can’t even watch the point-after kick. I head to the locker room. I hate losing, but Irus is gonna hate it worse. He hates being denied his pick.