“Technically . . . it is.” Did she hear a smile in that statement?
Rachel turned at the sound of a door opening behind her. Logan walked out, his cell phone to his ear.
Her voice caught. He looked so right in this gym. He’d changed from what he’d had on at the board meeting. Now he wore black shorts and a red Warriors tee shirt, a whistle hung around his neck. Images of him as a teen standing in that exact spot spun through her mind.
She used to make up reasons to come to the gym after school—left a book in her locker, had a question for the gym teacher, Molly needed something from her locker—anything, it didn’t matter. Anything that might give her an opportunity to see Logan, without him knowing. Just a mere glimpse of him then had been thrilling, eliciting a shiver-like feeling, and swoops in her stomach.
Now she had swoops in her stomach, but it was coupled with set teeth and a tight grip on her phone.
He turned toward her. She found her voice and said, “No. It’s not.”
Slowly he lowered the phone. “You’re trespassing, Rachel.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Hardly.”
His long legs could have brought him to her in just a few strides, but he took his time. He regarded her like a lion eyeing a predator. She was on his territory and the look on his face clearly said he didn’t like it and if she didn’t run away he was going to bare his teeth.
“Don’t get any ideas about using this place.”
“Why not? It’s what Nana wanted.”
“Why?”
Rachel shrugged. “She loved Homecoming.”
Logan grunted, tucking his arms across his chest. “She was crazy.”
“She wasn’t!”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “Honey, she was a seventy-year-old prom queen.”
“Homecoming. And, it was tradition.”
“I don’t give a flip about your traditions. You heard the board. You need my okay on all decisions. You aren’t using this place.”
“That’s not exactly what the board said.”
The exterior gym doors opened and kids started pouring in.
Logan checked his watch. He started backing up. “Meet me at Wings. Dinner. Six sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Wait!” But he was already through the exterior doors and the gym was filled with the noise of several dozen teens. Logan couldn’t have heard her even if he’d wanted to.
Gah!
That was not what the board had said. But, she was saying it to herself. She supposed he felt he had a say since the board had said he needed to help plan this thing. Help, not approve. Big difference.
All she needed was for him to stay out of her way.
She tapped her phone against her lip then she turned and made her way out of the gym. This was her show and it would be a success. She didn’t need any help. That’s precisely what she’d tell him, too, tonight. But no way was she having dinner with him.
Chapter 4
Logan stood on the sidelines of the practice field, a fine bead of energy pulsing through his veins. The school day had ended twenty-five minutes ago and football practice would start in five.
He turned his face to the sky and from beneath the brim of his ball cap he saw clear blue. It was a hot one, but that was to be expected. In this game, it was mind over matter.
He couldn’t wait for the season to start.
He missed playing ball. He missed the hard work, the hard hitting, the competition. When he’d broken his leg and could no longer play it was like losing his best friend and true love all at once. And it still hurt, both not playing and his leg.
Coaching wasn’t playing, but it was as close as he could get. And, he liked it. If he could lead them to a winning season he’d consider his choice to coach a success.
He wanted a championship for the players—for the kids who stood to garner scholarships on their talent, he wanted it for Redemption, and he wanted it for himself.
Voices behind him caught his attention and he turned his head. It was time. And, his new hire was now officially late for the interview.
He studied the players as they filed out of the locker room and onto the field. He waited for them to settle in front of him. His four coaches flanked him.
The first time he’d stood before this team he’d been as nervous as a rookie starting in his first game, completely unsure of what he’d gotten into and certain he was going to puke. It was one thing to be responsible for doing your single job on the field, but being responsible for everyone, that was something else altogether.
He waited for their undivided attention. He gathered his thoughts and was just about to speak when something caught his attention.
Logan raised his head over his player’s shoulders. A man with a sizable gut, wearing a red running suit that wasn’t quite equipped to accommodate his girth, was jogging up to his players. The man waved his hand as he approached, a big, clueless smile on his face.
“Hey,” he said, “Sorry I’m late. I misjudged the distance.” His voice was breathy. He bent over, his hands on his knees, gulping air. After a moment, he straightened and patted his stomach. “Need to take a few spins on the track I guess.” He started to laugh but the sound died when his eyes met Logan’s.
Logan speared him with a look and watched his smile fade. The man stepped back and cleared his throat. His head swiveled around the practice field, finally realizing, Logan hoped, what he’d interrupted. Then the man dropped his head.
Logan refocused on his players. He waited for each one of their faces to return to him.
“We live in the best football town in this entire state. We have football in our blood and we know what it takes to be the best.” Logan spaced the words, giving them weight. The boys listened; he had their attention again.
“We’re going to be competitive, gentleman. We’re going to be fierce. We’ll play smart. And we will be successful.” The last part had the players cheering and his coaches nodding approvingly. The man, who Logan assumed was the AD’s cousin, hooked his pinkies in the corners of his beefy mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Several players ducked.
Logan shook his head and sighed. Then he said, “Let’s get started.” The assistant coaches separated and began calling out names, having the boys separate into defensive and offensive teams. The boys would get a lot of playing time and most would play both offense and defense. His special team, the kicker, separated from the group to the far end zone, a football in one hand, a tee in the other.
The whistler remained in his spot, shifting from foot to foot. Logan took a few steps until he stood before him. He brought his hands to his hips and forced his temper under control. Losing it on the field in front of his players wouldn’t do anybody any good.
“I’m Tom. Tom Carlson. I’m sorry I was late.” Tom Carlson thrust his hand out to Logan.
Logan kept his hands fisted at his hips. “You’re Ritter’s cousin?”
The man nodded. He was a puppy, eager to please and droopy.
Logan turned away. His players were scattered all over the field, running drills, throwing footballs, catching them. Logan exhaled and returned his attention to Tom. “Rule #1, Tom. Never be late. Ever. Got that?”
Tom nodded, his big head bouncing up and down.
“Okay, what do you know about football?”
“Everything. I love it. During football season, I’m glued to the TV all day Saturday and all day Sunday. Then of course there’s Monday night, and sometimes Wednesday night, occasionally Thursday nights—”
“Aside from watching football, do you have any experience coaching football?”
Tom screwed up his mouth. “How do you mean?”
Logan sighed. “How about you go over and watch Charlie. He’s the big guy working with the defense.”
“Sounds good, Coach. No problem.”
Logan watched him jog over to Charlie, shaking his head.
Chapter 5
There were only a few cars in the parking lot of Wing’
s Bar and Grill, but it was early and it was Friday. The sun wasn’t burning down like it had been, but it was still completely light outside.
Rachel pulled open the heavy wooden door. It was like stepping back in time. The famous Redemption bar hadn’t changed a bit. Wings was an institution in this eastern Colorado town and had been since the fifties. John Wing III ran the operation and, as far as Rachel knew, it was nearly identical to how it had been when the doors had first opened. It had always been a joke that there were no actual pilots in the Wing family, but the bar’s interior was flanked floor to ceiling, wall-to-wall, in pictures of things that fly: airplanes, helicopters, jets, turbo props, air carriers, military and civilian aircraft. If it left the ground, there was a picture of it somewhere on one of the walls.
Country music from the jukebox played in the background, but Rachel could see, as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, the band setting up on stage. In a couple of hours, this place would be hopping. She’d be gone well before they started.
Rachel was here to set Logan straight. What was the big deal anyways? It was one game. And, it wasn’t like the game wasn’t going to happen. Her event was after the game.
This was her tribute to the woman who’d raised her, who’d put her through medical school, who’d shaped her into the person she was today. And, who’d died alone because Rachel hadn’t been able to get back to Redemption in time.
Rachel sighed as she went up to the four-sided, highly polished cherry wood bar in the center of the room, passing the old airplane turbo prop that was mounted to the front of the bar. If she walked around to the other side the back end of the plane—whether it was all pieces from the same plane, she didn’t know—was mounted on the back. From the side, it was as if the bar had been built around the old aircraft.
Eddie Wing was unloading bar glasses. The scene was so familiar to her. She’d come in here often enough after school with Heather Wing to get a soda or for Heather to get some money or just to check in with her parents before they headed out again. Wow, she hadn’t seen Heather since school.
She found a seat at the bar. When Eddie turned, Rachel saw that he hadn’t changed a bit. Well, maybe he was grayer at the temples, his laugh lines a little deeper, but his smile was still genuine and robust and not something he reserved only for special occasions. It had the desired effect: to welcome, to relax, to put patrons at ease. Relax, friend, you are among friends, it seemed to say.
And Rachel did, letting the melancholy of missing Nana momentarily slip away.
“Rachel Delaney-Tolbert, is that really you?”
Rachel smiled, grinned really, she couldn’t help herself.
“You’re all grown up, girl! How are you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Eddie raised a silencing hand before she uttered a sound.
“Hold up just a short sec. What will you have to drink? Libation first, conversation second.”
“White wine, please. House Chardonnay is fine.”
Eddie’s raised hand turned into a pointed finger and he tapped the air. “You got it. One house Chard coming right up.” He slid a wine glass from the rack and poured her a creamy yellow blend.
Rachel’s mouth watered as he poured. Between the heat, being back home, the town council meeting, seeing Logan, Logan seeing her, she’d earned this beverage. She should have ordered a margarita. A large, with a straw. But, then again, she needed to be on her toes when she talked to Logan. Although, having a good buzz might make the conversation she needed to have with him easier.
“Here you go. Our finest house blend.” Eddie winked at her and Rachel accepted the glass.
“Thank you Mr. Wing—”
Eddie shook his head. “Nope. If you are old enough to drink, you’re old enough to call me Eddie.”
“Well, thank you . . . Eddie.” That felt weird, but okay. She took a sip and let the cool, crisp flavors roll over her tongue.
Rachel asked about Heather and Mrs. Wing.
Eddie beamed when he talked about his new grandchildren. “So, how’ve you been?” he asked. “A doctor, did I hear?”
Rachel smiled. “Almost. I have two more months of my fellowship, but yes. Very close.”
“Well, how about that? That is wonderful. Good for you, Rachel, good for you.”
Rachel swirled the drink, and the butter-colored liquid swished along the sides of the glass.
Eddie leaned back against the bar, his arms tucked across his broad chest. “Rachel,” he said, “I’m sorry about your grandma. She was a special lady.”
Rachel stared into her wine glass. Swallowing around the lump in her throat she met Eddie’s eyes. “Thank you. I miss her.”
“So, I guess you’ve got your hands full with this big project you’re planning.”
She bit her lip. Obviously Eddie had heard about the town council meeting. Of course he had. The town wasn’t that big. Then Rachel realized this was a golden opportunity. “Sure do. It’s going to be a fun evening. Maybe you will help spread the word for me. It’s the evening of Homecoming, at the high school, just after the game. I hope you and your wife will come. And, Heather and her husband, too.”
Eddie chuckled, his arms resting comfortably over his middle. “I’d be happy to. And, of course, we’ll come. Wouldn’t miss it.”
She felt an inkling of ease settle around her. She had her first guests for the evening and had even garnered some word-of-mouth advertising. Maybe coming to Wings hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
Now she just needed to convince her “planning partner” this was a worthy cause.
Those inklings of ease, slithered into coils of unease as the image of Logan flashed into her mind. He was still a jerk. Still stubborn and egotistical and arrogant.
And, still gorgeous. And, those blue eyes.
Did they have to stare so intently, so powerfully, so knowingly?
Maybe she was giving him too much credit. He couldn’t read her mind so he certainly didn’t know what she was thinking. Then why did she feel so exposed when she was around him? Might have something to do with the fact that, after a twelve-year absence, she’d seen the man three times in one day. And, two of those three times she’d either been in a nearly see through blouse or her underwear.
She motioned to Eddie to refill her glass.
The first thing Logan noticed when he entered Wings was that Rachel had changed clothes. Again. After seeing her at Molly’s, Logan was of the opinion that Rachel Delaney-Tolbert shouldn’t be covered up, at all. The woman was beautiful, with curves to send a man down a path best avoided.
Yet, here he was. He’d asked her to meet him, and while she hadn’t exactly agreed, she’d still come. He was struck by the irony that Rachel Delaney-Tolbert, granddaughter of the eccentric and undeniable matriarch of Redemption, was here, waiting for him. How times had changed. She needed something from him. Something he had no intention of giving, not that he wouldn’t enjoy making her ask.
As long as he kept his mind off her cleavage and whether or not she was still wearing the same purple lace she’d had on earlier, this conversation would end how he wanted it: her realizing she wasn’t holding her event on his territory.
He traveled down the steps and up to the bar. “Hey, Eddie. How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain, Coach. The usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Logan felt Rachel’s eyes on him, although he hadn’t met hers yet. Let her wait, wonder what he was up to. Part of the play—keep your opponent off guard, guessing.
Eddie filled a fountain glass with ice, shot cola into it and passed it across the bar. Logan took it and, at last, turned toward Rachel. Her head came up, or maybe just her chin, and her gaze met his.
Eddie moved away to fill orders for other patrons, leaving him alone with Rachel. She spoke first. “Let’s get this over with.”
He took a swallow of soda, chewing on a cube of ice. Slowly he shook his head. “Nope. I’m hungry.”
She opened her mouth to
protest, but Logan palmed her elbow and helped her off the stool. “Don’t forget your wine, Rachel.”
She narrowed her eyes, but wisely collected her glass.
Chapter 6
No way was Rachel staying and eating a meal with Logan. First of all, she had too much to do, second, she couldn’t afford the calories, and third, . . . well, was the idea of sitting across from tall, dark, and frustrating.
She slid into a booth, mostly because with the wall of Logan behind her, she didn’t have much choice. She cast a glance around. Wings was slowly filling up and the noise level was steadily rising.
“Don’t worry, Rachel, nobody will care if you’re seen with me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but, again, he cut her off.
“What are you hungry for? I know Redemption isn’t the Ritz or the Four Seasons, but they make a mean rib-eye.” Logan had disappeared behind a menu.
“I seem to have lost my appetite.”
His blue eyes appeared over the menu. He shook his head. “No dinner. No discussion.”
She exhaled. Loudly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll have a salad.”
“Okay.”
As soon as Logan put his menu down the waitress came over. “Hey, Coach.”
His face beamed at the woman who was old enough to be his mother and said, “Evening Sandy. How’re you?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Good to hear. It’s going to be busy tonight.”
While Sandy cast a glance around, Rachel drummed impatient fingers on the table. Logan ignored her.
“Oh yeah. The band’s a good one. You should stick around.”
He watched Rachel who continued her drumming. She feigned fascination with the airplanes pictures surrounding their booth.
“We may just do that, right, Rachel?”
“Sorry.” Rachel smiled sweetly at Sandy. “Can’t. Busy.”
He chuckled.
“So, what’re you having tonight?” Sandy asked.
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