Love Letter for a Sinner (The Sinners sports romances)

by Lynn Shurr

  Tricia pushed her hands hard against his chest. “I have to get that.”

  “No! Must be Layla trying to get you back. Let it go to voice mail.”

  “Can’t. It’s my father.”

  She might as well have invited her parent into the bedroom. Rex rolled over onto his stomach and with an immense groan, buried his face in a pillow. Tricia, not pausing to dress, padded to the living room. He heard murmured conversation that went on for a while, then nothing. When she didn’t return to the bed, he wrapped the towel around the wreckage of that magnificent erection and went to find her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tricia huddled on his sofa with her knees drawn up and her face pressed against one of those little pillows he never used for anything. Her shoulders shook hard. For the second time that evening, she cried, but not in the same way as before. Last time sadness—this time grief?

  Rex looked around for that plaid blanket his decorator called a throw and claimed it matched his colors. He found it folded on the lower shelf of the end table where his cleaning lady put it because the thing always slid off the back of the couch and ended up on the floor. Shaking it out, he wrapped the blanket around her nakedness and sat beside her. His arm went around her shoulders as the most natural way to offer consolation. “What happened?”

  “My mother died tonight.”

  “While we were…” The very thought upset him.

  “Earlier, probably when you were with Layla. My dad had to make some arrangements and get himself together before he could make himself call.” She burrowed against his warmth and slowly stopped shaking. “He went to sit with her like he did every night for a few hours, kissed her good-bye, and got the call that she’d slipped away before he got back to the farm.”

  “My father said that often happens. He visits the sick and says it’s like they hold on until the family leaves so as not to distress their loved ones. Or maybe being loved holds a person here on this earth. He’d say she’s gone to a better place where she won’t suffer anymore and someday you’ll be reunited with her.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I do.” He put force behind those simple words.

  “I talked to her this morning trying to take my mind off you and Layla being together. I didn’t let her know how miserable I was. She thought to her last hours that I led a glamorous life. I told her earlier that I’d met you, that you were kind and trustworthy. She and Dad followed the Sinners and the Broncos since Iowa has no pro team of its own. They watched the game together yesterday. Mom said you needed to take better care of yourself on the field and to pass that along if I met you again. Then, she asked if you and Layla were still seeing each other.”

  “I’ve seen way too much of Layla, more than I wanted.”

  “Mom said she hoped you’d look beyond Layla and notice me because she’d like to know I’d settled with a good man before she died. Rex, she never mentioned the possibility of her death before. I think she knew the end was near.”

  “Sometimes folks do. I wish you could have told her I looked beyond Layla from the very first when I saw your blue eyes so filled with goodness behind her shoulders that night at Mariah’s Place.”

  Tricia squirmed. “I’m not that good, and you didn’t know anything about me then.”

  “You made sure Layla got home safely even though she’s not a nice person.”

  “Rex, I’m paid to do that. Many a time I would have liked to leave her in the gutter. What I put up with—for nothing, nothing at all.”

  “That’s not so.” He wanted to say if not for her job with Layla they would not have met. God had sent her to him, kept Mrs. Welles alive long enough for them to get to know each other. Good had come from the suffering of both mother and daughter. Not the right time or place for those words. “Your mother knew you loved her, and you saw she had the best care. That’s all you could do. She would have lived for you if she’d had a choice.” Rex parted her bangs with a blunt fingertip and kissed her forehead.

  “Yes, she would have.” Tricia forced herself to leave the comfort of Rex’s arms. “I have to get back to the apartment and pack my clothes. The funeral is on Thursday. I’ll try to get a flight out in the morning.”

  “Let me make the arrangements. I’d like to go with you, see you through this, meet your father and brothers.”

  Suspicion crossed her face. “Rex, I’ve told you before that one unconsummated night in the sack does not mean you have to explain your intentions to my dad and brothers. This isn’t a good time to get involved.” How would she ever be able to separate being with Rex and the day of her mother’s death? She had to leave immediately. Tricia rose and swathed herself in the muted hunter’s plaid of the throw.

  The hurt showed momentarily on his round face as clearly as if he was an injured child, but he clenched his jaw and stood up, too. “I want to do something to help. I’d do that for anyone.”

  “Fine.” Tricia removed a credit card from a slot in her purse. “Make flight reservations for me, then. New Orleans to Dallas to Des Moines. My father will pick me up there. Get the best deal you can because I won’t be working for Layla Devlin much longer. Call me in the morning and let me know what time and airline. And, please call a cab for me now. You shouldn’t be doing so much walking.” Dealing with airlines would be certain to take his mind off of sex and what hadn’t happened. She went into his room, turned the lock, and dressed.

  With reluctance, Rex summoned a cab. She came out quickly, not much to put on, and picked up her bag. “I’ll wait in the lobby with you.”

  “Don’t.” She allowed herself to have one last brief kiss from those warm lips. “Rex, I want you to know you’ll make someone a wonderful lover. You are gentle, considerate, a great kisser—and have more control and stamina than any other man I’ve know.” She noticed the wince as if she’d pinched him hard in the wrong place. “Sorry, I broke my own rule about mentioning others. I guess that tells you to hold out for better.”

  He didn’t acknowledge that statement in any way, but simply walked her as far as the elevator and watched the doors close behind her. Tricia forgot one of his good qualities, he thought. Maybe she wasn’t aware of it yet. He always figured if someone challenged his Christianity he’d be willing to go into the fiery furnace or the lion’s den for his faith. When he believed, he believed deeply, and he believed he and Trish were met to be together. Call it stubbornness or persistence, some day they would finish what they started here tonight, and she’d see the light.

  ****

  When Tricia opened the door to the apartment, she found Layla possessing the turquoise leather sofa like Sheba, Queen of the Jungle. Their condo decorator had gone wild with tropical colors: red, azure, yellows, greens, and peach. She wore a naughty nightie in a semi-transparent leopard print that showed off the black panties and overstuffed bra beneath. Must have been a gift from Lee because Layla rarely bothered to buy such items. She slept in the nude and firmly believed in getting right down to business when it came to sex. Lingerie only got in the way and didn’t stay on long enough to make an impact.

  “Oh, it’s only you. Where have you been, Patsy?” She licked the orange off her fingers from the consoling bag of cheese curls by her side.

  “Out,” Tricia replied tersely. No more need for lies or diplomacy.

  “Out trying to get over Rex Worthy? I know you want him. Can’t have him. Don’t waste another thought on the man. If he couldn’t get it up for Layla Devlin, he won’t be able to for anyone.”

  “Maybe his injury…” Tricia started to say. What, was she actually trying to make excuses for Rex so Layla would take him back? She clamped her mouth shut.

  “Yes, his injury. He said he’d taken painkillers, but I wonder if the injury isn’t in his mind or somewhere lower. Never seen a man so stiff and I am not talking about his dick. I thought maybe he’d come crawling back tonight, but no, only you.”

  How Tricia wanted to boast that she’d overcome both painkil
lers and any reservations Rex might have about pre-marital sex, but she hugged that secret to herself. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. My mother passed away this evening. The funeral is on Thursday.”

  “My condolences,” Layla said with a hand wave as casual as if she flipped Tricia the bird. “Buy a nice big wreath when you get back to Iowa and put my name on it. You’ll be back by the weekend of course.”

  “I won’t be back. I quit.”

  “Come on, Patsy. Most employers only allow a couple of days for a funeral. I’m letting you have nearly a whole week.”

  “Layla, I’ve put up with your crap for four years, longer if you include rooming with you and letting you steal my boyfriend.”

  “Letting! He came running when I crooked a little finger.” Layla demonstrated how easy that had been by bending her pinkie.

  “Exactly. I’ve fetched and carried and probably saved your life a few times. Not anymore. My father and brothers need me in Iowa. I’ll take everything I brought here and arrange to have my things sent from Los Angeles. As of tomorrow, you’ll have to find another Patsy—and if you ever call me that again, I won’t answer. It’s Tricia or nothing.”

  “I’ll double your already generous salary—no, triple it. Don’t leave me here all alone.”

  “Good night and good luck, Layla.” Tricia entered her bedroom, locked the door, and began packing. She’d acquired only a few pieces of clothing since coming to New Orleans. Everything would fit nicely in the large suitcase she took along when Layla conceived the idea of seducing Rex Worthy. Thinking his name made her heart clench a little. He’d move on and complete his lessons with someone else, or not, if he decided to wait for marriage after all. She’d provided an alternative to Layla that he found more palatable, that was all. Duty summoned her to Iowa.

  Layla must have wrenched herself from the couch. She knocked hard on the door. “Come out, Pat—Tricia. Let’s discuss this some more. You can’t be serious about staying in Iowa.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Layla, just to say good-bye.” She carefully folded her black dress, which would do for the funeral with the addition of a jacket.

  “No severance pay for you!”

  “Didn’t expect any.”

  “Bitch, cunt, whore, slut!” Layla shouted, accenting each word with a blow to the door. Tricia shook her head. The words applied to her former boss far more than to her. She almost felt sorry for the woman, but not enough to stay.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tricia didn’t say good-bye to Layla in the morning. The star had gone out, probably for a bag of beignets. Rex called and gave her the name of the airline and the time of the early afternoon flight. He didn’t argue about coming along, didn’t even say he’d miss her. Good, she’d gotten through to him. One almost fantastic evening spent together did not mean wedding bells rang for both of them. She relayed the information to her father and turned off her phone to stop the incessant calls Layla began making from Café du Monde.

  Still, Tricia wasn’t surprised to see Rex, red Sinners cap on his head, black T-shirt and jeans both well filled out, stubble growing back, waiting near the counter when she went to claim her ticket. He held out her credit card. “I had to return this.”

  “Thanks. You did use it to pay for my ticket, right?”

  “Sure. I know you can pay your own way.” Thanks to a late night call to Nell Billodeaux, he got that right. “Don’t belittle an independent woman by assuming she can’t take care of herself,” Joe’s wife said. “After having to put up with Layla, she’ll want to go her own way.”

  Tricia eyes focused on a carry-on bag at his feet. “Going somewhere?”

  “Iowa. I want to pay my respects.” He noticed she still clung to her big black bag.

  “Won’t Coach Buck be upset if you don’t make practice?”

  “I went in to have my ankle retaped and told him the mother of a friend of mine had died. I wanted to go to the funeral. Since I can’t run anyhow, he said to go but be back by Sunday for the game. I guess he’s worried the bench will get cold without my behind warming it.” Not to mention Joe chiming in with, “No problem, I can handle the Bucs at home without Rex if he doesn’t get back in time.” Now that stung a little.

  After Rex got his permission to be absent, Joe hung around out of curiosity. “Did you and Tricia get down to it?”

  “Almost. Then, she got word her mother died.”

  “Bad deal. That’s one I never had to face. Lots of interruptions with ten kids in the house, but death makes that look simple. Nell would say just be there for her, don’t push.”

  That’s exactly what Nell had said nearly word for word. Rex would be there for Tricia. “Let’s get your bag checked and walk down to the gate together.”

  The stuffed suitcase came in overweight. Rex let Tricia offer her credit card to cover the cost. She’d be upset enough when they boarded the plane. “Want to get some lunch? No food service on this flight and it’s your last chance for some Louisiana cooking. Not much time to make the connection to Des Moines in Dallas either.”

  “I don’t have any appetite today.” Then, she looked at Rex and could tell he was hungry. “Sure, a little something. My treat.” He didn’t argue with her.

  They settled at a restaurant offering New Orleans cuisine cafeteria style. Tricia selected a comforting bowl of gumbo and an iced tea. Rex got a sausage po-boy and a large soft drink. She eyed his tray and his size. “You’re holding back. Please get enough to eat. Who knows if Dad has any food in the house?”

  Good, she assumed he’d be staying with her family. Happy, Rex added a generous side of jambalaya, some slaw, an apple, and a piece of pecan pie. He offered to share the last as they finished eating, and she opened her mouth like a nestling bird to accept a taste from his fork. Suppressing an urge to take care of her, to insist she eat more, he simply said, “We’d better get to our gate.” He braced for what came next.

  They arrived in the middle of first class boarding. “That’s us. We better move.” He held out the tickets he’d kept for both of them.

  “You got me a first class ticket!”

  “I’ll bet you and Layla always went first class.”

  “Yes, but I’m not with Layla anymore. I quit last night. I must watch my money.”

  “Well, I need leg room. I got you a regular ticket and asked for an upgrade. They weren’t full, so now we get to sit together. Not a bad deal, right?”

  “Remains to be seen.” She went ahead, giving him the cold shoulder all the way to Dallas, staring out the window from the seat he let her have while he stretched his injured leg in the aisle. Tricia thawed a bit as they raced to catch their connection and hailed a wheelchair for him when he began to limp a little on the bad ankle. Embarrassing because his problem didn’t show, the situation evidently gave her some sort of satisfaction as she trotted alongside of the big and outwardly healthy invalid. No first class into Des Moines, so no argument.

  Mr. Welles, a solid silo of a man wearing a faded blue feed store cap the same color as his eyes, waited outside their gate with his three husky sons hulking behind him like an opposing team’s linemen. The middle man ruined the effect by offering Rex a mellow smile. Tricia introduced them. “My father, Cyrus Welles, and my brothers.” Her father stuck out a callused hand and with no awe in his voice said, “Pleased to meet any friend of Tricia’s. Call me Cy. My wife spoke of you before she passed.”

  “You knew I was coming?” Because Tricia didn’t until they met at the airport, and she’d kept her phone off to block incessant calls from Layla.

  “I figured if you were any kind of a man, you wouldn’t let my baby girl travel alone at a time like this. My boys, Cody, Carson, and Colt.”

  Each offered an explanation of their names as they shook hands. “After Buffalo Bill.” “After Kit Carson.” “After the gun and the guy who made it,” the last son said. Despite his size, a few pimples and an awkward manner marked Colt as a teenager. The other two Rex estimat
ed to be college age, if they went to college, making Tricia the eldest. She added, “Patricia after my grandmother, thank heaven. Dad wanted to name me Calamity Jane.”

  “Or Annie Oakley. Your mother would have none of it.” A small, pained smile creased a face that had seen plenty of hot summer suns in its time judging by the deep wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. “We’d better get your bags and move if we want to be home before dark.”

  Cy Welles led the way to the luggage carousel and handed Tricia’s large bag to Cody. Rex scooped up a small, slim suitcase made of some silver high impact material. Colt raced toward the parking garage calling, “Shotgun!”

  “No, sir, young man. Your sister gets the shotgun seat. You go in the truck bed with the rest of the baggage. Rex rides with Cody and Carson. Mind your manners,” Cy commanded.

  All obeyed him without any backtalk. Far from new, the truck did have a double cab. Rex waited to help Tricia into the front seat and got a nod of approval from her father. Then, he crammed into the back with her brothers. Carson smelled a little like an old college roommate who always kidded him about being so straight. Not a comfortable fit, but he felt like part of the family. Having brothers would be great. He got along with his sister, Honeybee, but she did have a sting to her sometimes.

  “It’s about a twenty minute drive once we clear the city,” Tricia informed him. “I hope you’re not too crushed back there.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Other than that, no one seemed inclined toward conversation. Rex studied the countryside as dusk descended like a flock of crows over the harvested fields, some with their stubble already plowed under in preparation for the next crop. The last of the light glinted off a pumpkin patch or two adding some color to the landscape. Huge rolls of hay wrapped in ghostly white plastic loomed near the barns. Iowa gave true meaning to the word flat. Sure, south Louisiana was flat, but bounteous trees and meandering bayous broke up the delta plain and kept the land from being monotonous.