Playing To Win (The York Bombers Book 2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Harland took a deep breath and frowned at Jason, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ignore him—or beat the living shit out of him. An odd look crossed his face a second before he shifted in the seat and reached into his pocket. He pulled his phone out and tapped the screen, then shot the three of them a dirty look. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Is this a bad time?”

  Jason heard Courtney’s voice coming through the phone, a little faded and far away. Harland shot them another look then turned in the seat, wedging himself against the side before answering her in a low voice.

  Zach leaned over the seat again, trying to get closer and eavesdrop. Jason shook his head and stood up, grabbing Zach by the sleeve and tugging. “Come on, give them some privacy.”

  “No way. I want to hear—”

  “Don’t be an ass.” Jason tugged harder, pulling him from the seat then narrowing his eyes at Tyler. “You too, asshole. Come on.”

  “‘Asshole’? What the hell’s your problem?”

  Jason shot him a dirty look then moved to an empty seat a few rows up. “You are. I’m still fucking pissed at you.”

  Tyler dropped into the seat next to him, confusion marring his face. “Why are you pissed at me?”

  Jason gave him a look that practically shouted his disbelief then reached up and loosened his tie, pulling it off and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. “Why the fuck do you think?”

  Was it Jason’s imagination, or did Tyler actually look guilty? No, it must be his imagination. Tyler leaned back in the seat, stretched his long legs out into the aisle. “Not sure. Maybe you should tell me.”

  “Well gee, let’s see.” He rolled his tie up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Maybe because you fucking knew who Megan was the entire time and didn’t say a fucking word. Even when you knew I was looking for her. How the fuck could you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything. And who am I to point out the obvious when you’re so fucking blind you can’t even see what’s right in front of you?”

  “I didn’t recognize her, okay? It could happen to anyone.”

  “Do you seriously believe that shit? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you slept with her, right?”

  Jason opened his mouth to tell him it wasn’t any of his fucking business, then snapped it closed. No, it wasn’t Tyler’s business, but it was also pretty obvious. No sense in denying it. It didn’t matter because Tyler kept on talking.

  “I mean, think of it from her side. How would you feel if someone you saw every day didn’t show any interest in you until you changed how you looked?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “She doesn’t see it that way. And I’m inclined to agree with her.”

  Zach poked his head over the edge of the seat from behind them and tapped Jason on the head. “Sorry man. This time I think I agree with the goalie.”

  “What the fuck? Get off me.” Jason pushed his hand away then turned around. “And fuck you anyway. Even you didn’t recognize her so I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

  “Maybe not, but I didn’t sleep with her, either. Then spend a month stalking out a nightclub hoping to find her.”

  “It wasn’t a month.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “And it’s not like I’d been back to Mystics since that night anyway, so I hadn’t seen her since—well, since Calypso’s. And, uh, you know, after.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep making excuses.”

  “I swear to fuck, if you don’t stop tapping me on the head, I’m going to—”

  “To what? Beat me up?” Zach rapped his knuckles against Jason’s head once more, laughing. “You’re just pissed off because you know we’re right and you’re wrong.”

  “Okay. Fine. I didn’t recognize her. But that was because I never noticed her to begin with.”

  Tyler dropped his head into his hands with a loud groan. Then he raised his head and pinned Jason with a hard stare. “Fuck. Do yourself a favor and don’t ever say that in front of her. Or even if you’re in the same room. Hell, the same fucking block.”

  “What was wrong with what I said?”

  “Jesus.” Zach hit him upside the head. “You really are fucking dense, aren’t you? Did you not hear what you said?”

  “I just said I didn’t notice her—” Jason hesitated, hearing the words come out of his mouth. Really hearing them. He slumped back in the seat with a heavy sigh. “Fuck. That sounded bad, didn’t it? That’s not what I meant, though. Shit.”

  “Seriously, though. How could you not notice her?”

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t. I mean, I don’t think I’d recognize anyone who worked there. I just don’t look at them. Hell, I don’t look at anyone except whoever I happen to be with.”

  “Are you really that fucking unobservant?”

  “No, I just don’t pay attention when I don’t need to.”

  “That’s fucked up.” Zach tapped him on the head one last time then dropped back into his own seat. Probably to take a nap. Jason wouldn’t mind doing the same thing except he knew sleep wouldn’t come—not when his mind was racing in a dozen different directions.

  “Without looking, what color suit is Harland wearing?”

  Jason glanced at Tyler, wondering if he’d lost his mind. “What?”

  “You heard me. What color suit is Harland wearing?”

  “Uh—” Jason closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Black.”

  “Nice try but wrong.”

  “Seriously?” Jason stood up and looked behind him. He could just make out Harland from where he was standing, saw the man wipe a hand across his eyes and swallow hard. He felt like he was intruding on a personal moment and quickly looked away, something hard twisting in his gut.

  He dropped back into his seat. “It’s, uh, gray.”

  “Yeah.” Tyler shook his head, amusement curling his lips. “You really suck.”

  “Yeah, guess I do.”

  “What’s Megan’s favorite color?”

  “Purple.”

  “What was she wearing that night at Calypso’s?”

  “Um…” Jason closed his eyes, trying to remember. “A loose white shirt, kind of billowy.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. She left the shirt at my place.” Jason pointed a finger at Tyler and shook his head. “Don’t even fucking ask.”

  “I don’t want to know. Okay, what else was she wearing?”

  “I don’t know. Pants.”

  “What kind?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “What was she wearing the other night?”

  “I didn’t notice. All I noticed was that her hair looked different.”

  “Then how did you recognize her?”

  “Her eyes. She has these deep soft brown eyes with tiny little flecks of—” Jason snapped his mouth closed, felt heat rush to his face as Tyler stared at him with a stupid grin. “So is there a fucking point to all this?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Exactly.” Jason folded his arms in front of him and slid down in the seat. “So leave me alone so I can sleep.”

  “One more question.”

  “Christ. What now?”

  “What’s the necklace say?”

  Jason’s hand automatically went to the necklace, his fingers closing over the smooth metal disc. He narrowed his eyes at Tyler. “You know what it says. Why are you asking?”

  “No reason. I’m just surprised you still have it, that’s all. I mean, considering it’s Megan’s. I’m sure she misses it. And you know where to find her now. You know, if you wanted to give it back. That’s all.” Tyler grinned then settled back in his own seat and closed his eyes.

  Jason tightened his fingers around the disc, the smooth metal cool to the touch. Give it back? Part of him balked at the idea of parting with it. He wanted to keep it as a memento, a way to remember those nights he’d spent with Megan.

  But giving it back meant he’d ge
t to see her again. And if he saw her, maybe he could actually talk to her. Or convince her to talk to him. Or just listen to him.

  The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Yeah, maybe he would give it back. Or at least, go talk to her first.

  The knot in his stomach eased just a bit, some of the tension of the last week leaving him as he made the decision. He’d go see Megan, talk to her. Really talk to her, like they’d done when she had been at his place.

  But there were a few things he wanted to do first. Just some small things to pave the way. Soften her up—maybe. At least it wouldn’t hurt.

  Decision made, Jason closed his eyes and settled back against the seat, the rhythmic sound of the tires against the pavement finally lulling him to sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Is there a reason you’re sitting on the floor?”

  Megan looked up from the stack of files in her lap, blinked until her mother’s face came into focus, then covered her mouth as she yawned. “Um…more room on the floor?”

  Her mother shook her head then stepped over her stretched-out legs on her way to the desk. She paused with her tote bag suspended in mid-air, then released a soft sigh. Megan barely caught herself in time, stopping her eye roll before it started. She knew that sigh, knew her mother was getting ready to issue some well-meant advice about…something.

  Probably about the state of the desk, cluttered with the recent arrival of gifts. Or the piles of scattered paperwork strewn across the floor—because there was no room to work at the desk. Megan gripped the pen a little harder in her hand and waited.

  But instead of the lecture, or even the questions she was sure her mother had about the flowers—and balloons, and stuffed bear, and tray of cheese and crackers—she just sighed again and lowered herself into the chair.

  Megan released the breath she had been holding and went back to organizing the invoices. Someone—and Megan refused to believe it was her, although she’d been so distracted it was possible—had filed unpaid invoices with the paid ones. Now she had to go through each file and organize everything, make sure things were put back in place.

  And then she needed to get started on inputting all the information into the computer, something that should have been done at least a year ago. It had taken her that long to convince her parents it would be more efficient that way.

  “Megan. Honestly.”

  Megan looked up, saw her mother frowning at the cluttered desk surface. “What?”

  “Are you going to do something with all of this? I feel like I’m about to be swallowed by a purple blob.”

  Megan choked back a laugh. Yes, everything was definitely purple. Three bouquets of flowers, delivered every other day over the past week—all purple. Megan didn’t even know roses came in purple.

  A bundle of purple Mylar balloons, slightly deflated, hovering just below the ceiling in the corner of the room. A soft and cuddly bear—also purple—about a foot high, sitting on the corner of the desk.

  At least the cheese and crackers weren’t purple, although the gift wrap and bow had been. The same with the DVD that had been sent yesterday, delivered early in the afternoon: Miracle. Of course.

  Megan didn’t know whether to laugh or go into hiding. She knew exactly who had sent everything, even though none of the cards had been signed. At first, she had wanted to throw the flowers in the trash. Did he really think sending flowers would change her mind? It was ridiculous. They’d had two nights together, that was it. They weren’t dating, weren’t involved, never would be. So why was Jason sending flowers?

  And then the next gift arrived. And the next. Each accompanied by a little card, mentioning something she liked, or something they had talked about during those short hours together. Even the card delivered with the DVD: You never told me your favorite movie but maybe we could watch mine together. Talk about cheesy.

  What was he trying to prove? That he actually listened to her, even if he didn’t see her? Stupid. Cheesy. It didn’t mean anything except that he was feeling guilty. Did he really think sending a few gifts would mean anything? They weren’t together, never would be. She should have thrown everything away as soon as it came.

  Except she didn’t, because a tiny part of her wanted to believe…well, she was being stupid again. She should just throw everything out, pretend she never got them. They didn’t mean anything. She couldn’t let them mean anything.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  Megan blinked and looked over at her mom. She was watching her, her head tilted to the side, an unreadable expression on her face. No, not unreadable; Megan could see the concern, the curiosity, the worry deep in her eyes as her mother studied her.

  “Sorry, no. I was, uh, thinking.”

  “Hm.” She watched her for another few seconds then pulled a small package from her tote bag. “This came for you earlier.”

  Megan leaned forward, stretching to reach it. “What is it?”

  “I have no idea. It’s wrapped. In purple.”

  Megan didn’t miss the silent question in her mother’s voice. She glanced up, caught her mother’s eye, looked away. She was going to ask about it, about everything. Megan knew it, knew she’d have to come up with an answer.

  She just didn’t know how to answer, not when she didn’t really understand herself.

  Today’s mystery object was small and heavy, compact. Megan held it in her hands, feeling its weight, already knowing what it was. With a sigh, she ran her finger under one flap and tore the paper. It fell away, unnoticed, as she stared at the leather bound book.

  Her heart raced, skipping a beat, as she ran her hand along the front cover, as she traced the gilded lettering with her fingertip. Pride and Prejudice. She raised the book to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled, then opened it.

  Jason had scrawled something across the front page. She blinked and looked closer, felt her breath catch in her throat.

  So…I read it. Not sure I really get it but I liked it. And I think this was my favorite line: “My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire… you.”

  Megan traced the messy lettering with her finger then slammed the book shut, calling herself a fool. So what if he’d read it? It didn’t mean anything.

  She tossed the book to the side and tried to refocus her attention on the paperwork in her lap.

  “Megan!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wasn’t going to ask. I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved. You’re a grown woman, mature and responsible. I trust you. But this—” Her mom waved her hand around the room, taking in the growing collection. “It’s too much. What is going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? This isn’t nothing. Just look at all of this stuff! Do you have a stalker? Do I need to get your father involved?”

  “Mom, no. It’s nothing like that. Honest. It’s just—”

  “Get me involved in what?”

  Megan’s head snapped around and she swallowed a groan when her father walked in, his presence taking up what little free space remained in the small office. His dark brows were pulled into a low frown, a scowl on his face as he looked first at her then at her mother. “Did you say something about a stalker?”

  “No, Dad. There’s no stalker. Honest.” The last thing she needed was her father switching into protective bear mode—which wasn’t a long stretch from his normal mode. He even looked the part, with his height and broad build, his short-cropped hair and perpetual scowl. But she—and her mom—knew his secret: inside, he was a marshmallow. Unless someone threatened his family, then all bets were off.

  He studied her for a long minute then moved his gaze to her mother. “Do I need to be worried about something?”

  “No, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.”

  Her father made a brief grunting sound then looked back at Megan. “Someone’s out front asking for you. Do I need to shoot him?”

  “Dad! N
o. Just—God, no.” Megan gathered the papers into a neat pile then pushed to her feet, trying to hide her sudden nervousness. She didn’t ask who it was—she didn’t need to. “No shooting. No hovering. I’ll go talk to him, it won’t take long.”

  She was going to say ‘get rid of him’ but figured her father might take that the wrong way. So she forced a smile to her face and pretended her legs weren’t shaking as she moved from the office and out through the restaurant, through the storage room and into the bar.

  Jason was sitting on an end stool, his hands wrapped around a glass of what looked like soda. He looked up, his clear eyes fixed on her as she moved behind the bar and came to a stop in front of him. A brief smile teased one corner of his mouth then quickly died. She could sense the uncertainty clinging to him, felt his hesitation as he dropped his gaze and took a quick breath before looking back at her.

  “Did you, uh, get all the stuff?”

  “Yeah. Thank you.” Megan shifted, looked around, wishing the place was busier. But it was still too early, not even time for lunch yet. Only one other person was in the bar, sitting back in the corner.

  “Good. That’s good.” Jason spun the glass around in small circles. Should she say something else? Yeah, probably.

  “You need to stop sending things.”

  “I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. And that I remembered what you told me. You know, like you’re favorite color and snack and book.”

  “Uh, yeah. I got that. But you still need to stop. My parents are worried I have a stalker.” She meant the words as a joke but instead of laughing, an expression of horror crossed Jason’s face.

  “No! I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I just wanted—”

  “I know. But you still need to stop.”

  “Oh.” His face went carefully blank, his gaze dropping back to the glass of soda he wasn’t drinking.

  Megan sighed then leaned her hip against the shelf under the bar. “Why are you here?”

  Jason looked up again, his clear eyes intense and focused on hers, holding her gaze prisoner. “I wanted to apologize again. And to see you.”

  Her heart did a funny little dance in her chest. She bit the inside of her cheek, told herself to stop being foolish. “Well, here I am. You should probably leave now.”