by Lola Karns
“I liked chatting with you last night.”
Her cheeks burned, a mix of embarrassment and heat. “Me, too. Are you around tonight?” His lips tugged up, giving her all the response she needed.
“I can’t go out or anything. I couldn’t convince Dad to watch Chloe, and Mom is meeting a friend for a movie. At least I know dinner with Cody won’t drag on forever.” She could lose herself in his green eyes. “Come over around eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
***
When the doorbell rang at eight oh two, she raced to the door. Freedom, sort of. She loved how Kyle looked in his dark gray turtleneck sweater and khaki pants, his winter coat open in spite of the chill in the air. Even better, he waved flowers in front of her, a colorful mix of daisies dyed bright, unnatural colors. They provided a much-needed lift.
As she ushered him in, he picked her up in a giant bear hug, set her back down, and nudged the door closed.
“For you.”
“They’re beautiful. I’ll take your coat, and then we can go to the kitchen to put them in water. Dad and Cody are in the living room.” She raised her voice. “Dad, guess who stopped by? Coach Kyle.” With a tug on his sleeve, she murmured, “Come with me.” She led him to the kitchen. “We can’t get him to leave. Frankly, Dad is not trying very hard. There’s a vase on the top shelf. Would you?”
He smiled in spite of his wrinkled nose. The kitchen stench. She must have grown immune to it.
“Being tall has its advantages,” he whispered. “What can I do to help?”
The quicker she arranged the flowers, the sooner they could escape the smell. Trimming the ends took too long to bother with. “Encourage him to go back to his hotel, talk up the nightlife, anything. Chloe went to bed right as dinner was served. With her asleep, I thought he would leave, especially after Mom left to meet her friend. I was wrong.”
He pulled her close, stroking her hair as she snuggled against his chest. “Should I put his name on the will-call list for tomorrow night’s game? It won’t help tonight, but it might make tomorrow better.”
“Good idea. Shall we be brave?”
Grateful for his presence, she led the way. Her father sat in one chair, and Cody lounged on the couch, resting his stocking feet across the cushions beside him. That left one chair and a space on the couch. Glancing between her options, she mulled her choices, trying to find something better than the couch.
Kyle rescued her. He sat on the chair and tugged her hand, directing her to the upholstered chair arm. His fingers rested on her leg, and if he moved them too much, she’d fall off the chair either from being tickled, or getting light-headed at his touch. She opened her mouth to make reintroductions. “Kyle, this is C—”
Her father cut her off with a brumphing cough.
“You know how your mother feels about you kids climbing on the furniture. Why don’t you sit on the couch, sweetie?”
Since when did Dad cheer for Team Cody? Then again, he had been at his charming best during dinner. They wouldn’t win, though. She grabbed a cushion from the couch and plopped on the floor between Kyle’s chair and the couch. So what if her seat lacked in back support.
Her father’s mouth rose in smirk. “Touché.”
“Dr. Jones, what do you think about tomorrow’s game? Do you like our chances?” Kyle broke the ice.
“I don’t know.”
Kyle’s toe nudged her leg. They shared a glance, one she hoped expressed her gratitude. Knowing his displeasure at unsolicited advice, she’d find a way to thank him for his sacrifice. Later. In private.
Dad switched into his lecture voice. “You’ve done a good job with those boys the last few weeks, but tomorrow’s game will be a letdown. Ohio Commonwealth looks deceptively easy on paper. And since it’s a home game, if they allow themselves to become complacent, you’ll have another loss on your record.”
“That’s always a risk, sir.”
She reached over and gave his leg a reassuring squeeze behind the knee, so he would be sure to feel it. If the other men in the room noticed, too, so much the better.
“I thought about trying a different rotation.”
“That would keep your boys on their toes. Are you going to change the sub order or put players in different positions? I’ve seen that tried a few times. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s an absolute disaster. A word of advice, Kyle, never have your big guy run the point, even if you’re up by twenty.”
He guffawed, a forced sound, but at least he tried. It was more than she had done. “Good advice, sir. I’ll keep that in mind. Cody, are you a basketball fan, too?”
She took in the room, observing Cody and the way his nostrils flared. At least he hadn’t narrowed his eyes. That motion signaled an impending outburst. This gesture was less easy to read. Either he was lying or about to lose his temper or was hot and bothered.
“Yeah. We have it on all the time at the bar, sometimes at home. Unless of course football is on. That’s a better game, but basketball is okay, too.”
The lies have it! She never remembered him sitting down to watch a game. The TVs were always on at the bar and in their former apartment as background noise. Wait, he watched the Super Bowl, sort of. And boxing and hand fishing.
“I’ll put your name on a list at the will-call window if you want to go to the game tomorrow.”
“Hey, Gwennie, wanna go with me?” His idiotic pet name was another way he demeaned her.
“Sorry, I only have one ticket, but you’re welcome to it.”
His lie troubled her less than Cody’s. He got two tickets. Cody looked at her, then her father and answered Kyle.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You’ll have a better view than at the bars. They get pretty full during and after the games. When we win, they sometimes end up turning people away. Have you had a chance to check out the bars in town?”
“No.” His quick response reminded her of when she’d first asked him in a teasing tone if there was someone else, not suspecting the truth.
“Tonight’s the best night to go check out the bars, get a feel for them.”
“He’s right about that,” she offered. “We don’t have many choices, and I know how particular you are. Some bars cater more to the rich kids, offering trendy drinks. You’d hate those places, but they do attract the pretty, young girls.” She resisted saying the name of his former paramour. That might make him think she still cared.
“Others cater more to the party-hard, beer-drinking crowd,” Kyle added. “There are even a few bars geared toward locals or ‘townies’ as the kids call them. They are more subdued and have fewer and smaller TVs than those for the collage crowd. I prefer Crow’s Nest. You might like Snookers.”
“Thanks for the advice.” His low, deadpan tone suggested otherwise.
Silence settled over the group. She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Dad, what about that place you and your friends go?”
He issued a mocking sound from somewhere deep in his throat. “Cody hardly qualifies for entry into the faculty club.”
“No, I mean that other place out on the highway. The one that serves fried pickles and carries those foreign beers, but Mom never wants to go there with you because she hates the decor?” She got the words out in one breath, grateful Mom wasn’t here to correct her run-on sentence.
“Ah, yes. You mean the Moose Head. I haven’t been there in ages. Michael told me they have a new honey porter from somewhere that is worth a try. It may even be a domestic. He said you can taste the buzz of the bees.”
The concentration lines on her father’s brow brought a sense of ease. Dad wouldn’t be happy without one, and she was off the hook so far as being a drinking partner. He looked at the other men in turn. “Cody, Kyle, do either one of you feel like joining me in the quest for a hoppy beverage?”
Each hesitated, as if answering first would be a form of defeat. Men and their game of verbal chicken. Maybe they
were confused by Dad’s invitation. He did like to indulge in what she called professorial airs. She nudged Kyle’s foot.
“Thank you for the offer, sir, but I don’t drink the night before a game. I need to keep my facilities sharp.” He tapped a finger on his temple.
“Perhaps we can go some other time after the season is over. Cody, are you game? I’d love an educated opinion on the beer. I remember your pub had a respectable selection.”
He flashed a mouthful of shiny, white teeth, complete with dimples. That was how he drew her in when they first met.
“Sure. Since your lady hates the way it looks, it’s got to be good. I’d love to compare it to my bar back home.”
Grinning, Dad offered her a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell your mother where I went.”
She pressed a finger to her lips and mimed throwing away a key. Mom would figure it out anyway. “You’re secret is safe with me. Have fun, you two! And, Cody, make sure he stays away from the boilermakers since he’s driving.”
Grateful for the chance to get off the couch cushion and to make sure they left, she walked them to the door. Dad pulled her aside, reminding her to behave as virtuously as she’d been raised. It’s a little late for that lecture.
Dad’s taillights disappeared down the street. When they turned the corner, she released some tension with a big exhale and returned to the family room and to Kyle.
“I’m glad my father can be easily distracted.”
“You’re manipulation of him was both subtle and skillful. For your sake, I hope that skill skips a generation.” His gaze darted around the room. “Are we really alone?”
“Chloe is upstairs.”
Pulling her against him, he murmured, “Close enough,” and claimed her with his mouth. She’d thought all day about savoring him and responded in kind, deepening the kiss until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. Her fingers found the soft, razor-cut hairs at the nape of his neck. She wanted that spot to tickle the skin elsewhere, stomach or thighs, perhaps.
She tugged at his sweater, frustrated by the T-shirt underneath. “There are too many clothes.”
“I agree.”
He pushed the fuzzy V-neck of her red sweater aside as he planted moist kisses on her neck and shoulders. Her hands rested on his hair. When he blew warm breath against her damp skin, she shivered and craved more. His teeth brushed her skin as he nipped her bra strap. His urgent need inflamed her desire. She grew dizzy with lust. Her fingers pressed against his skull, trying to find a solid support base before her legs collapsed.
Her tongue seemed incapable of moving without the promise of tasting his salty skin. She couldn’t stay upright. With considerable effort, she panted. “The couch.”
He broke the rhythm of his kisses, but not his grip on her derriere as he lowered her to the adjacent couch. His knee wedged between her thighs. If she twisted a little bit…. Her shoulder pressed into the cushions; she found his belt and gave that shirt a good solid tug. Victory! It was too hard to think as his fingers wiggled underneath her bra cup.
A flash of lights outside the house illuminated the dim room. The intrusion gave her pause. She tried listening but found that hard to do with his tongue lapping at her earlobe. Moving her hands to his sternum, she pushed him away. “Shhh. I heard something.”
He stopped. The slamming car door echoed outside.
“Mother.” Wriggling out from underneath him, she scrambled to put herself back in order. “This is worse than high school,” she muttered as she smoothed the neckline of her sweater.
He tucked his shirt back in and moved to the far end of the couch. “You look flushed.”
“I feel flushed.” Sitting at opposite ends of the couch looked too suspicious. She moved closer. “Like I have been thoroughly kissed, yet not kissed enough.”
The muffled sound of stomping feet on the back porch and scrape of the lock echoed. Slow down heart. Think cold water.
His self-control impressed her. He appeared relaxed and pulled together. If she didn’t know better, she never would have guessed he’d been rolling on the couch minutes ago. His arm draped on her shoulder, but not in a way that would pull her closer. The chaste touch increased her frustration, but it was better than nothing.
“Did you hire anyone?”
The non sequitur took her by surprise.
“Didn’t you have several interviews today?”
The gears of her mind shifted slowly, not wanting to transition to chitchat, but knowing she must.
“Yes. I hired a junior biology major. Lindsay starts Tuesday.” The back door creaked open. “She wants to work early on Tuesdays and Thursdays because she doesn’t have classes until the afternoon. Saturdays are another story, but she is willing to be in at nine and my crowd doesn’t hit before then. Do you think I should make a training manual?”
“You should at least have a clear dress code, sanitation code, and a list of unacceptable actions, like theft.”
“Gwen? James?” a voice called from the kitchen.
“In here, Mom.”
She peeked into the living room. “Gwen, where’s your father? Oh. Hi, Kyle. Nice to see you again.”
Mom didn’t sound the least bit surprised. She must have seen Kyle’s Jeep parked out front. “Dad took Cody out for a drink at one of those places you hate.”
She looked around the room, wrinkling her nose. “Thinking of which, can I get you anything before I sit down?”
They both declined.
She collapsed in the easy chair. It was the most relaxed Gwen had seen her all night. “Good. I’m tired of playing hostess tonight. Dinner was a disaster, and I don’t know why Mrs. Russell wanted to see that Russian movie. It was dreadful. Our old super 8 movies had better cinematography.”
Gwen laughed knowing how often the camera veered somewhere strange soon followed by her father’s disembodied voice saying, “Oops.”
“What happened at dinner?”
“That boy wanted to put Tabasco sauce all over the roast pork. When he didn’t see it on the table, he went into the kitchen and rummaged around rather than asking for help.”
She picked up where Mom left off. “Mom and Dad had a tiny bottle.”
“It came with a gift set. Who knows how old it is.”
“Anyway, we heard this loud crash. Mom and I rushed in. He’d managed to knock a bunch of bottles off of the shelf, breaking the bottle of white-truffle oil. It spilled everywhere. I slid halfway across the floor and landed on my keister. When Cody tried to help me, the clumsy ox swung his elbows around and broke my nicest bottle of vanilla.”
“I tossed him a cleaning towel, so I didn’t get my feet in the mess, and he brandished it with such a flourish that he knocked down a container of ground coffee. Naturally, it burst open, spilling everywhere. I took his shoes and sent him back to the table without Tabasco sauce. Gwen and I got the mess cleaned up as best we could, but I fear the floor will be slippery until we can give it a proper scrub. Do be careful if you go in the kitchen, dear. I would hate to cause the Ravens to bring in a backup backup coach.”
Mom had called him “dear,” as if he were family. With a smile, she moved her hand to Kyle’s thigh and gave him a little pat. She didn’t have to hide her affection.
“I wondered why your kitchen smelled so strange, not bad necessarily, just overpowering.”
“The worst part was that he never apologized. When we returned, he asked if I would bring the Tabasco sauce when I had a chance. Harrumph! Did you bring those pretty flowers?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What a thoughtful gesture. I hope they don’t wilt in that kitchen!”
They laughed. The easy give-and-take between Mom and Kyle made it easy to picture him at family gatherings, passing plates around the table, pleasantly conversing and bringing a sense of ease to all. With a babe in her arms, he would hoist an older Chloe up in the air. His arm would drape across her shoulders, not just today, but when their hair began chan
ging to gray and later still when their hands weathered and wrinkled from years of living. Her heart expanded against her rib cage. She loved him. Her free hand brushed away a tear from her eye.
He leaned toward her. “If that made you laugh until you cried, you must be under a lot of stress.”
She couldn’t tell him why her eyes moistened. Not with Mother sitting across the room, nor without the confidence he reciprocated her love. “It’s the hormones, and it’s late.”
“Why don’t you go up to bed, dear? I’ll see Kyle out.”
Mystified at the dismissal, they glanced at each other. He raised an eyebrow, but she had no response. With a shrug, she kissed his cheek in an all too chaste manner. She stood, preparing to leave the room, when he rose beside her and muttered, “What the hell?” and gave her the kind of goodnight kiss that ensured sexy dreams.
***
The consummate hostess, Charlotte insisted on bringing Kyle a left over slice of cake and a cup of decaf coffee. “These are delicious, Dr. Jones.”
“Thank you. Gwen made the cake. I swear I’ve gained ten pounds since she’s returned home.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Stop flattering me, Kyle. I’ve had my fill of toadying today between students hoping for a better grade on their first paper and dinner with Cody.”
The sharpness in her voice stood out from her usual pleasant demeanor. He’d never sat in one of her classes, but by reputation, she was tough and kind, if a bit scatterbrained.
“Let me be blunt with you. I don’t trust Cody. His actions tonight undermined his verbal efforts at reconciliation. I overheard him apologizing to Gwen, and he indicated his hope that her stay here is temporary, especially after learning how tight the local job market is. He may well want to be an active father, but I’ll be damned if I sit idly by while he insinuates himself into my daughter and granddaughter’s life.” Her voice returned to a motherly tone. “Would you like more coffee? I do believe there is a cup left.”