Block and Tackle

by Elise Faber

  “Wow. Yeah, okay,” he muttered, grinning. “So it looks like we’ve been making out…”

  “Yeah, just a little.”

  The couple in the glass staring back at them — flush-faced, tousled, and swollen-lipped — looked unmistakably happy. Her eyes met his in the mirror, and Charlie pulled her gaze away, suddenly bashful. She plucked a paper towel from the dispenser, folded it tight, and wet it under the tap before applying it to Hutch’s lips.

  “What are you doing?” He laughed, gently grasping her wrists.

  She didn’t stop her work. “I’m getting my lipstick off you. You can’t go out there wearing shades of Petal Pink.”

  “It’s dark. No one would notice.”

  “Trust me, every woman here will find herself staring at this mouth. They’d notice.”

  Hutch’s grip tightened, and she raised her eyes to his. The heat she found there made it so hard to remain standing.

  “Keep talking like that, and we’ll never make it out of here.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE PARTY THRUMMED on, seemingly oblivious to the temporary absence of the guest of honor. Charlie melted into the crowd as though she’d never left it, but she was so afraid of getting caught, it took a few minutes for the adrenaline to leave her veins and for her pulse to slow.

  Once it did, she realized there was work to do, and she was grateful. In the buffet line, she found platters standing empty and no staffer rushing to fill them. Tables left with abandoned plates and plastic cups were waiting to be bused.

  Within minutes, Kurt had commandeered the mic at the bandstand and was calling Hutch up to the stage, talking up the Raiders’ season, and dropping Prestige’s name every chance he got.

  Charlie watched from the thick of the crowd, looking at the two men on stage and wondering how much of a fool she was to think that she could have it all. But she didn’t kid herself. Hutch had a pull she couldn’t fight, and she no longer wanted to.

  “Thank you, Kurt,” Hutch was saying, shaking her boss’s hand. “I couldn’t be happier to be with the Raiders, and I have you and Prestige to thank for helping me get here.”

  Watching him made Charlie smile with a surprising sense of pride. Standing next to Kurt, Hutch was a giant. But he grinned with such humility, such sincerity, it was hard not to like and admire him. And Charlie did both.

  She saw his eyes scan the crowd until they locked with hers. “And I’m so glad to be here in the City by the Bay. The people I’ve met make me want to stay.”

  Her pulse soared at the words. The look in his eyes made her almost certain they were meant for her.

  This is right. Isn’t it? she asked herself.

  Charlie couldn’t deny the pull she had to Hutch. It felt more right than her attraction to any other man she’d known in her whole life.

  And it was wrong. Wrong because she’d agreed to the terms of her contract, to adhere to the rules in Prestige’s company policy. And wrong because choosing him could hurt her.

  But at the moment, Charlie swept that fear and hesitation away. Resisting Hutch Barlow was no longer in her power.

  She stood witnessing as the crowd broke into applause again, and Hutch left the bandstand, disappearing into the throng of friends and well-wishers. The music resumed, people danced, and the party rolled on strong for three more hours.

  Near midnight, Kurt sought her out, told her again what a great job she’d done, and bid her goodnight, wishing her a good weekend and making her promise to get some rest. Charlie felt more than a little twinge of guilt at both his praise and his obvious concern for her. In essence, she’d be betraying him, and Charlie didn’t like the way that felt.

  But just after she watched her boss go, making his way toward the exit with his wife, Charlie turned to find Hutch standing at a cafe table with a group of players, laughing at something one of them had said, but watching her.

  The heat in his eyes might as well have been molten gold. And she felt nothing but desire.

  Making sure she saw him, Hutch made his exit a few minutes later, and Charlie spent the next half hour saying goodnight, thanking the band manager, and convincing Darius she was too tired to go clubbing with him and a few other people from their floor. Only when she was sure Darius had disappeared out into the night did she retrieve her phone.

  Charlie: I’ll be out it 5.

  Hutch’s response was immediate.

  Hutch: Parked in front of cafe. Black Ford Escape.

  A thrill of nerves spilled through her. Charlie tried to temper the racing of her heart as she collected her garment bag and briefcase she’d stashed in the venue’s office hours before.

  The party had wound down, but a few revelers were still clustered around cafe tables, nursing their drinks and laughing raucously as she slipped out of Pier 31 and into the night. The air was chilly, a shock to her bare arms and legs. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she made her way down Embarcadero, and she cast her eyes up and down the street, looking out for anyone she knew.

  But though the streets weren’t empty, no one paid her any attention, and as she passed a delivery truck parked at the curb, she spotted the black Escape, its taillights blazing like a promise.

  Her galloping heart nearly lurched her off balance as she met the passenger side door just as Hutch was reaching across to open it for her.

  “You need to know it’s killing me not to get out and open the door for you,” he said, arching a brow.

  Charlie climbed in. “I appreciate the sacrifice,” she teased, but she meant every word. The stealthier they were, the better.

  “I plan to do it every other time we’re together.” His expression hadn’t changed.

  Warmth pooled in her belly. “I won’t stop you,” she said softly.

  Hutch’s smile finally returned, but when his fingers closed around hers, his eyes widened. “Your hand is ice cold!” His gaze swept up and down bare legs and arms. “You must be freezing.”

  “I’m fine,” Charlie lied, but she couldn’t hide the gooseflesh that prickled up her arms.

  Hutch shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over her like a blanket. The soft heat enveloped her along with his forest rain scent. It was heavenly.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Hutch only reached for her hand again, threw a glance over his left shoulder, and pulled the SUV into traffic.

  “Thank you for coming,” he murmured back, squeezing her hand.

  He drove them through the city, the night shrouded in fog, but traffic was light in the Financial District. The trip wouldn’t be long, and that knowledge kept Charlie’s nerves from settling, even with the reassurance of Hutch’s hand around hers.

  “You’re nervous,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “I’m not nervous.” But she could hear the tremor in her voice.

  Hutch laughed under his breath. “I don’t make you nervous, so why are you nervous now?”

  Charlie realized he was right. Hutch thrilled her. He ignited her. He challenged her.

  But he — himself — did not make her nervous. With him, she wanted for nothing. The rest of the world fell away. She wasn’t self-conscious. She wasn’t uncomfortable. She wasn’t alone.

  Yet she was nervous now, and he was asking her to explain why.

  “When we get to your place…” she began, shifting in her seat to face him full on, “…what’s going to happen?”

  To her surprise, Hutch pulled to the curb on Pine Street and threw the vehicle into park. He turned in his seat to face her now; his hand smoothed the back of hers.

  “Whatever you want and nothing you don’t.”

  Charlie swallowed with relief. She should have known he wouldn’t make assumptions. He’d asked permission every time he’d kissed her. Going to his place didn’t have to mean… that.

  Not that she didn’t want that. She just needed to know where he stood.

  Charlie nodded. “I like that plan,” she said firmly, letting him know h
is words reassured her.

  He ducked his chin and eyed her carefully. “You good, Charlie? We could go to your place if you’d rather.”

  “Uh, no.” Charlie shook her head. Annie would be back from work soon. “I’m good. Really.”

  He searched her eyes. “I don’t want to do anything that’ll make you pull away from me.”

  Her heartbeat slowed, her breath deepened, and she smiled at him, this sweet, gentle man beside her. She was safe with him. She’d always be safe with him. Her nerves left her with no looking back.

  “I’m not going to pull away,” she said, knowing it was her turn to reassure him. She squeezed the fingers that encircled hers to make sure he felt that she meant every word.

  “Well, I like that plan,” he said, echoing her. “Okay, let’s go.”

  He pulled back into traffic, and minutes later, he turned onto Jordan Avenue and slowed. Halfway down the second block, Hutch parked the Escape in front of a narrow, two-story townhouse with arched windows and an inset porch. A crown of dentil molding traced its roofline, and though Charlie couldn’t make out the color, the house looked to be a slate or light blue. It was a nice house on a nice street, but nothing about it screamed “Professional Football Player!”

  “What?” Hutch asked, and Charlie looked back at him, realizing she’d just been staring at his home in silence.

  “I like it. It’s not what I expected.” She heard her words too late. “I mean—”

  But Hutch was already laughing. “You expected not to like it?” he asked, opening the car door.

  “No.” She laughed, reaching for her own door handle.

  “Wait. Stay right there.” And then he was out of the car, his door shut behind him, and jogging around to her side. He pulled open her door with a flourish and offered her his hand. “I told you I’d be doing this from now on.”

  Smiling, Charlie took his hand and stepped out. Hutch reached past her and grabbed her garment bag, which, thankfully, had her work clothes, her makeup, hairbrush, and toothbrush. She might have to make the walk of shame in the morning, but she wouldn’t be doing it in her sapphire cocktail dress.

  Hutch led her up the steps and onto the little inset porch with its white wicker swing and two matching chairs. She shook her head at the picture. “It’s just so homey,” she said, trying to convey her earlier thoughts.

  Laughing again, Hutch unlocked his front door and ushered her inside. A polished wooden stairway with a white banister and railing welcomed them on their left, and a kitchen sat at their right. A breakfast nook looked out over the front porch, and stainless appliances, marble countertops, and an old-fashioned pass-through rounded out the space.

  Beyond that was the living room, spacious and welcoming with a mix of clearly brand new and well-kept-but-undoubtedly-used furniture. The dark gray couch spanning one wall had a red-and-white crocheted afghan draped along its back. Opposite each other, contrasting the couch, were two brand new leather armchairs, dark, glossy, and inviting, and a wooden coffee table that had seen better days. A widescreen TV, fireplace, and framed pictures — of Hutch with friends and Hutch with family — made the room complete.

  Hutch nodded to the older furniture. “You can take the boy out of Peebles, but you can’t take Peebles out of the boy.”

  Her face lit, she knew, with an unstoppable smile. “Are you secretly hiding a family of four? This is the furthest thing from a bachelor pad I’ve ever seen.”

  Throwing his head back and laughing until his eyes shone, Hutch just shrugged. “I guess I have my mom and Violet to thank for that. They helped me furnish the place,” he said, blushing just a little. “I wasn’t going for bachelor pad. To me, this is just what a home is supposed to look like. To feel like.”

  Charlie hoped she hadn’t offended him. “No, I love it. It’s warm and welcoming.” Just like he is, she thought. “Where’d you get the afghan?”

  Hutch nodded to the throw. “My mom made it right after I signed with Ohio State. It survived two years in the athletic dorm and two years in campus apartments, and I don’t think I’d feel at home without it.”

  Charlie walked across the room and lifted a corner of the throw. The pattern looked like a series of red honeycombs all woven together. The afghan was big enough to blanket two adults. It must have taken hours and hours to make. Charlie couldn’t imagine her own mom taking ten minutes to do something so domestic.

  “I love it,” she said in awe. And she loved how he loved it. How he wouldn’t feel at home without it.

  The blush was gone, leaving behind a smile of pride. “I’m glad,” he murmured. Then he cleared his throat. “Have you eaten?”

  “Um… yeah. I ate a while ago.”

  His eyes narrowed. “When?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When did you eat? If you think I didn’t have my eye on you from the moment I walked into that party, you need to get clear on that,” he said, giving her a look that was half mischief and half somber. “And I never once saw you eat.”

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “Well, I had lunch—”

  “That’s not what I mean—”

  “And I had a plate of fruit before you got there.”

  It was Hutch’s turn to roll his eyes. “Impossible,” he muttered, but he turned and stalked past her toward the kitchen.

  She followed and found him peering into his fridge, tugging his tie loose as he searched.

  “How about an egg white omelet?”

  “I’m fine, Hutch, really—”

  Hutch closed the refrigerator door and moved to her. He grabbed the lapels of his jacket she now wore around her shoulders, and he gently tugged her to him. A lock of his golden hair had tumbled again from his band, but it only softened the intent look in his eyes a fraction. “You’ve been working yourself to death. I know it. Your boss knows it. You know it. You need something to eat. I’m going to make omelets for both of us unless you’d prefer something else. But it’s pretty much that or ham sandwiches tonight.”

  “Omelets sound good,” she acquiesced, nodding.

  He stared down into her eyes a moment longer, pulling her infinitesimally closer until he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. It wasn’t a searing, steamy kiss, but one so full of reined-in emotion that her legs went limp all the same.

  Hutch released her, setting her back on her heels, before returning to the refrigerator and pulling out omelet essentials.

  “Can I help?” She sidled up to him as he set ingredients on the counter.

  “You like mushrooms?” he asked, handing a cardboard pint of fresh baby portabellas to her.

  Mushrooms were only twenty calories a cup. “I love mushrooms. I’ll wash and chop these,” she said, taking the pint from him.

  As she worked, she watched Hutch, so at ease in his kitchen. He separated eggs, diced up a little ham, chopped some spinach, and put a skillet on the stove. Then he looked over his shoulder at her.

  “You comfortable in that?” he asked, taking in her heels and dress. When she hesitated, he just grinned. “I could find you something else.”

  “Like what?” she asked, trying to hide her smile at the thought of what she’d look like fitting into any of his clothes. His suit jacket hung on her as though she were a child playing dress-up.

  “C’mon, let’s look.”

  She followed him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down a short hall. His bedroom didn’t have the same homegrown feel as the rest of his house. The decor and furniture here were masculine and contemporary. The sleek lines of the dark wood headboard on his king-size bed echoed in the matching nightstand and dresser. The duvet and pillows wore a steel-gray and bronze-chevron pattern, and the floor-to-ceiling gray curtains and soft olive walls gave the room a hushed sophistication. In contrast to the rest of the house, the space was intimate, private, and Charlie sensed that the number of people who’d been inside it was small.

  Hutch stepped into a walk-in closet, and Charlie made h
erself wait by the foot of his bed. The lush duvet begged to be touched, and she got a little breathless thinking that she might find herself beneath it before the night was over.

  Carrying a bundle of clothes, Hutch emerged from the closet. “Okay, there isn’t much that’s gonna work, but how about drawstring pajama pants?” he asked, flaring out a pair of well-worn red-flannel plaid. “These are ancient, but they’re also really comfortable. And a Buckeyes hoodie. Can you handle that?”

  Charlie’s grin was threatening to do her harm. “Thank you. I think those’ll work just fine.”

  His echoing grin made her insides feel weightless. “Great. You change, and I’ll cook.” He tossed the clothes onto the foot of his bed and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Charlie did a slow 360 in his room, taking everything in again and feeling the touch of Hutch’s consideration. He wanted her to be comfortable. He wanted her to be warm. He wanted her to be fed. Charlie was beginning to think Hutch Barlow was the most considerate person she’d ever known.

  “Is he real?” she asked the empty room. When she got no answer from the sumptuous duvet or the masculine drapes, Charlie kicked off her heels, shimmied out of her dress, and donned his warm, time-softened clothes. She had to cinch the pajama pants tight and cuff the bottoms, and the light gray hoodie with the red lettering swallowed her, but both were incredibly soft and comfortable, and the bulky hoodie easily hid the fact that she didn’t have on a bra.

  Dressed, but now barefoot, she padded back to the kitchen where she found Hutch at the stove, expertly folding one giant, fluffy omelet.

  “That’s huge,” she said, peering around his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes never leaving the work of his spatula. “We’re gonna split it. I figured it’d be the easiest way to feed us at the same time.”

  Standing behind him, the heat of his body so tempting, Charlie let her hand rest on the small of his back as she leaned in. At once, his left arm came around her, and he pulled her against his side.