by Sarah Curtis
“You okay?”
She could hear the worry in Colt’s tone and was quick to say, “Yeah, just doesn’t taste good after brushing my teeth.”
“I’d offer you water instead, but you need the electrolytes.”
“It’s fine. Believe me, it’s not the worst thing I’ve tasted in the last twenty-four hours.” She took one more small sip and handed the cup back.
He walked over and set it on her desk, then sat in the chair, pulling off his boots.
“How was the game? Did you win?”
“By the skin of our teeth, but yeah.”
“A win is a win regardless of the score.”
He grunted in acknowledgment and stood, pulling off his shirt. She admired the ripple of muscles as they danced under his tanned skin.
Hey, she was sick, not dead.
He walked to the side of the bed and shucked his jeans before climbing in. She rolled to her side, and he put his arm around her, fitting her snuggly to his chest. She’d like to say she made more tantalizing conversation, but that wasn’t the case. She was asleep within seconds.
When she opened her eyes, sunlight was streaming in through her window, and Colt was gone. But he left a note on his pillow along with her cell.
Had to go in for a meeting. Text me when you wake up.
Yawning and stretching her sore muscles, Ivy took stock. She felt surprisingly good considering how crappy she’d felt yesterday. Her stomach also grumbled, but the thought of food still made her queasy. Yeah, she wouldn’t chance it. In fact, she may never eat again. Okay, that was a lie, but baby steps were definitely in order.
She picked up her phone and saw all the missed calls and texts from Colt the night before. He’d even left a voice message before getting on the plane and she hated the worry she heard in his voice. She pulled up their text thread and messaged.
Awake and feeling loads better. Thank you for taking care of me last night.
She got a reply right away.
I’ll come by after I’m done here. What can I bring you to eat?
The thought of food still makes me ill.
There’s a box of crackers in the bag on the bathroom counter. Try those and finish the Gatorade. I’ll text before I leave to see if you’ve changed your mind about food.
Okay.
She’d do as he suggested, but the only thing she wanted right then was a shower. And it wasn’t until she was in the shower that it hit home just how much she had missed Colt the past couple of weeks. Knowing he’d been there for her even if she’d been mostly comatose felt good. She decided then and there she’d choke down any amount of food so long as he brought it to her.
Chapter Fifteen
Colt
Sweats around his thighs, Colt gave one last thrust and felt his balls tighten right before his orgasm hit. Panting, he collapsed on top of Ivy who was draped face first over the back of the sofa.
“I’ve decided, I like when you play on Thursday.”
He moved the hair from over Ivy’s neck and nuzzled behind her ear. “It is nice having a few days off.”
“I’m just glad you decided to spend them with me.”
His body stilled, and he slowly stood to full height. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He hiked his sweats over his hips with a snap of the waistband.
Ivy’s eyes popped open, and she used the back of the couch to push herself up. “Nothing other than I haven’t seen you in over a week, so I’m happy to be spending some time with you.”
“I spend all my free time with you.”
She bent over, snagged her panties off the floor, and slipped them on. “I didn’t say you didn’t.” She tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, planted her ass against the back of the couch, and crossed her arms. “But it is hard to believe in a seven-day stretch you can’t find some time other than your one day off to slip me into your schedule. And even then, I only see you for a few hours. I know there are days you get done with practice early.”
“Yes, and on those days I’m too tired and sore for any more exercise.”
Ivy threw her arms out. “Who said anything about sex? Is that all I am to you, some kind of booty call?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good answer. Because while I do realize that’s what our relationship is based on, I thought we were friends, too. You know, the friends part of the friends with benefits. Friends hang out. Order pizza. Watch TV. Are you trying to tell me you don’t do any of that when you come home?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. If I do watch TV, it’s game footage but nine times out of ten, I come home, eat dinner, and crash after calling you. I told you when we started this, once the season began, I wouldn’t have a lot of time for you. I thought you understood that.”
“I did.” She took a deep breath. “I do,” she clarified. “I just miss spending time with you.”
He hated she was upset, but his hands were tied. He took the step that separated them. “I do, too. So let’s not spend the time we do have together fighting.”
He took her hand, walked them around the couch, then sat down, pulling her into his lap. “I have the next three days off. What do you say we get out of town for the weekend.”
She pulled back to look at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Anywhere you want to go.”
“Can we go to the beach?”
“It’s a little cold for the beach.”
“We can bundle up.” She moved her hands from his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her voice to almost a purr. “And if it gets too cold, I’m sure we can find something indoors to keep us occupied.”
“I like the way you think.” He took a second to nuzzle her neck, then said, “I’ll pack a bag, and then we’ll swing by your place so you can do the same while I make arrangements.” He glanced at the time. “If we get a move on, we can get to Newport by two.”
Ivy didn’t waste any time climbing off his lap, but she did take the time to give him an excited peck on the lips before she did it.
Taking the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom, he realized not only was he pleased he’d made Ivy happy, but he was looking forward to a little time away, too. He’d been working nonstop the past six weeks. And while he didn’t want to tamper with their winning streak, he also didn’t want to burn-out either.
After all, in the words of Lincoln Scott, all work and no play…
“This room is amazing.” Ivy didn’t stop until she reached the glass door that led out to the deck. “How did you get the bottom floor on such short notice?”
Colt tossed their bags on the bed and made his way over to her. “I think it helped that it’s the offseason. Not too many people visiting the beach this weekend.” It had rained for most of their drive over, but now the sun was making a valiant effort to peek out from behind the clouds.
“Well, whatever the reason, I’m going to enjoy sipping coffee out there tomorrow morning.”
“And I’m going to enjoy watching you sip it.” He placed a hand on her nape and leaned down, kissing behind her ear.
She turned and hugged him around the waist. “What should we do first?” Her eyes danced with excitement.
“First, I say we hit Bayfront. I’ve been thinking about fresh crab the whole drive here.”
“And after, we can watch the sea lions.”
He eyed her zip-up sweatshirt. “Grab an extra jacket, it will be cold at the wharf.”
Colt went to his bag and pulled out a ball cap while Ivy dug into hers, coming out with a lightweight down jacket.
“Ready?” he asked, pulling the hat low over his forehead.
She eyed him. “Does that work for you?”
He grabbed her hand and walked them toward the door. “Not really, but once I add sunglasses, I’ll be nearly invisible.”
“Right, because being the only man walking around in sunglasses on a rainy day isn’t at all conspicuous.”
“Is that sarcasm I detect?” He closed
the door to their room, and they started down the hall to the parking lot. “I’ll have you know this disguise works nine times out of ten. People might think they recognize me, but they’re not sure, and that keeps them from approaching.”
She nodded. “I can see that. I know I wouldn’t walk up to someone I thought was a celebrity unless I was one-hundred percent certain.”
Colt helped Ivy into the car just as it started to sprinkle. The sprinkle turned into rain by the time they reached the wharf.
He found the closest parking spot and pulled in. “I don’t have an umbrella.” He hit the button to turn off the car.
“It’s okay. I don’t own one either. I have a hood on my jacket if it starts coming down harder, but honestly, if I was afraid of a little water, I wouldn’t live in Oregon.”
They got out of the car, and he took her hand as they started walking. “Have you always lived here?”
“Yep. Grew up in Alameda. My parents still live there.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you.”
“You never asked.”
And that made him wonder why.
“And I don’t have a Wiki page for you to stalk me as I did you.” she chuckled.
He raised his brows. “You stalked me?”
“Oops. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She smiled up at him. “The first day we met. I wanted to know if you were as big a deal as Jason let on.”
“And what did you find out? Anything interesting?”
“Well, I hit a gold mine of information when I stumbled across a fan page.”
“Half of what you read is BS.”
“So, you didn’t grow up a poor orphan on the streets of Pasadena?”
“They got the Pasadena part right,” he deadpanned and made Ivy laugh.
“But seriously,” she stopped them, putting a hand on his chest. “Please tell me they didn’t lie about your Neil Diamond obsession.”
Colt tipped his head back and laughed. When he recovered, he said, “How do they know these things?”
Ivy’s eyebrows spiked practically to her hairline. “It’s true?”
“Again, partly. My Dad had the obsession. Made me listen whenever we were in the car together.”
“And now I feel fortunate because at least my dad was obsessed with Fleetwood Mac.”
Colt nodded. “I’ll take Stevie over Neil any day.”
Ivy started belting out the lyrics to Leather and Lace and it stopped him in his tracks.
“…I need you to love—” She kept walking until her arm reached the limit of their joined hands, stopping her mid-lyric. She turned her head to look back at him. “What?”
“You can sing.”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, I can carry a tune.”
“No, you have a great voice. Has no one ever told you that?”
Ivy shrugged. “My family. But they don’t count.”
They started walking again. “Well, I’m not family, and I’m telling you.”
“Yes, but we’re having sex, so you don’t count either.”
He couldn’t let it go. “Have you ever thought about singing professionally?”
She laugh-snorted. “Um. No.”
“I think you should consider it.”
“I’m glad I don’t make your ears bleed. Now I know I can sing along to the radio on our drive home, but that’s as far as I would take it.”
He wanted to argue further, even started to, but she talked over him.
“Besides, I love what I do. I love being creative. I’d be bored within a week if I had to sing for a living. I don’t have the passion for it.”
That he could understand. If she felt about graphic design the way he did about football, he’d let the subject drop.
Their silence stretched until they reached a restaurant with a wooden sign that read The Crab Shack.
“You think this place sells crabs?” Ivy threw him a smirk.
“If it doesn’t, they need to hire you to do their marketing.”
That made her laugh. “Shall we give it a try?”
“I’m game.”
The place was busy even at the odd hour between lunch and dinner. Colt took that as a good sign.
“They must have good food. Most of the tables are full.” Ivy echoed his thoughts.
They were shown to a table.
“I feel like I’m on a boat,” Ivy said over the top of her menu.
The place was rustic. Fishing nets draped the wooden walls along with other bits of fishing paraphernalia. Hell, even their table was a ship’s wheel encased in resin to give it a flat surface.
“I just hope we don’t leave here thinking we’re pirates.”
Ivy giggled. “I don’t know. I think you’d look rather sexy with an eye patch. Did you know pirates wore them to keep one eye adjusted to the dark so they could see better below deck?”
“And here I thought there were just a bunch of pirates running around with only one eye.”
“Hello. My name is Andy. I’ll be your server today. Can I start you off with anything to drink while you look over the menu?”
Andy did a double-take, but he didn’t say anything, and for that, Colt was grateful. “Would you like something to drink?” Colt directed his question to Ivy.
“Um, I’ll take a Sprite if you’ve got it.”
“We do.” The server turned his attention back to Colt. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have an iced tea with extra ice.”
Andy nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”
“Do you know what you want?” Colt asked as soon as their server left.
“Do you want to share the crab platter? I don’t think I can eat a whole dinner by myself.”
Colt closed his menu and set it on the table. “Sounds good.”
As promised, their server was back within a minute with their drinks and Colt placed their order.
When Andy left, Ivy reached over and placed her hand, palm up, on the table, wiggling her fingers. Once he placed his hand in hers, she said, “Thank you.”
He raised a brow. “For?”
“For this.” She swept the room with her other hand. “For arranging this. I just…” she started to say then hesitated. “We’ve both been so busy with work, it’s fun to get away.”
He didn’t think that’s what she’d wanted to say, but he let it go. “I didn’t realize I needed a break until I suggested it. And I wouldn’t have suggested it unless you had said something. So, thank you.”
“Then I guess we’re both to blame if it all goes south.”
Studying her expression, he frowned. “This weekend?”
She hesitated before she answered. “Yeah.”
So again, he didn’t think that’s what she meant.
Ivy
Bellies full of crab, fries, and coleslaw, she and Colt walked the wharf, passing quaint shops and window shopping until they reached the end of the pier. It had stopped raining while they ate, the clouds parting enough to let in a few sunbeams. Ivy leaned into the wooden railing, gazing across the choppy surface of the Pacific to a large rock formation that was currently inhabited by at least a hundred barking sea lions. Colt stood at her side, with his forearms resting on the rail, silently watching with her.
Even with all the noise, it was peaceful.
“If you never discovered you were good at football, what would you have done with your life?”
Colt moved his eyes from the sea lions to look at her. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
“Are you not passionate about anything else?”
“I’m passionate about my charity, but I wouldn’t have that without my football career. Why do you ask?”
“I was just standing here thinking, fate or whatever you want to call it, is a funny thing. What if, at a young age, my parents or a teacher encouraged me to become a singer. I would have gone down a different path and never discovered my true passion was for grap
hic arts.”
“Are you trying to say my true passion isn’t football?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. It just makes me wonder, is this it? Or does life have more in store for us?”
He stood, turning to place his hip on the rail so he faced her. “Are we still talking about careers?”
“If I hadn’t become a graphic designer, and you a football player, do you think we would have ever met? Is fate planned? Does it have a certain design? Would we both have ended up at The Parting Glass on that day anyway?”
“I doubt it. We met because you were taking my picture and I thought you were the paparazzi. Something neither of us would do without our respective careers.”
“Yes, but then a short time later, I backed into your car. No matter what we did for a living, that still would have happened.”
“True, but it was your work for Emerson that brought you there, and Oz—whom I would have never met without football—who invited me.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in fate, that we would have never met?”
“I’m saying it’s impossible to ever know.”
She turned back to the sea lions. “I guess that’s true.”
“Hey.” He softly ran a hand down her back. “Fate or not, all that did happen, and we did meet. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Right.” She gave him a weak smile because that’s not why she wondered. What she really wanted to know was if he wasn’t a football star, would their relationship have taken a different path?
One that wasn’t destined to end in heartache.
“I don’t want to leave.” Ivy gazed forlornly out the window of their room. For the first time, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
“I know. But unfortunately, I need to get back.”
They’d delayed as long as possible, even asking for a late checkout time. She knew it wasn’t fair to make Colt feel bad.
She put on a happy face. “Maybe we can come back sometime.”
Colt smiled. “I’d like that.”
She sang along with the radio the whole drive home, feeling more content than she had in six long weeks.