The football coach took Roger’s place next to the table. “Looks like you got some gear there,” he said.
Nick glanced over his shoulder at the Vernons, then looked back at Tucker. His eyes brightened. “Yeah. We got everything on the list. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”
“Great. You’ve got some catching up to do. But you’re a smart kid. You’ll pick it up right away.” Tucker’s smile swept over both of them, and Claire felt as if she’d been punched in the gut.
Tucker glanced at Claire. “You two come here for dinner often? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“It’s our first time,” she said. “How about you?”
“I eat dinner here most nights,” he said with an easy smile. “Best way I know to keep tabs on what my kids are up to.” He nodded at Roger’s table. “Looks like you’ve met our esteemed lawyer already.”
Was that a hint of contempt she heard in Tucker’s voice? “I knew him years ago,” she said, expressionless.
She gave him a polite smile and prepared to dismiss him. She didn’t like the way her stomach reacted when he smiled at her. But before she could say anything, Nick leaned across the table. “You want to have dinner with us?” he asked eagerly. “We’ve got plenty of room.”
Tucker didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Thanks for the invitation.” He gave Claire another smile, and her stomach dipped again. “If that’s okay with you, Ms. Kendall?”
“Of course,” she managed to say. She tried to signal Nick to move over so Tucker could slide in next to him, but the coach was already easing onto the bench next to her.
One side of his mouth curled up in a grin as he nodded at the bag of football gear clutched under Nick’s arm. “You going to sleep with that equipment tonight, Kendall?”
Claire tensed, waiting for the explosion from Nick. She’d learned quickly that any hint of teasing only resulted in sarcasm, sneering or anger.
To her surprise, he grinned at his coach. “Maybe I will. Do you think it would help me learn faster?”
“You never know.”
Tucker glanced over at her. She recognized the spark of interest in his eyes, the appreciative flash of male approval. An involuntary response shivered through her.
Apparently he’d taken a shower after practice, because his short, sun-bleached blond hair now gleamed dark gold with water. The crisp scent of his soap seemed to surround her, and the heat of his body burned into her. His leg was inches from hers, and the conservative khaki slacks he wore did nothing to hide his powerfully muscled thighs. She felt ridiculously small sitting next to him.
In spite of the signals her body was giving her, she was not interested in Tucker Hall, she told herself firmly. He was too big, too male, too cocky, too overwhelming.
And he lived in Monroe.
That fact alone was the death knell of any possible relationship. She wouldn’t stay in Monroe a second longer than absolutely necessary. No matter how attractive she found the man sitting next to her.
“…one of the conditions of being on the team,” Tucker was saying to Nick. “You avoid contact with the other team, as much as possible.”
Nick frowned. The mulish glint of resistance she’d come to know so well over the past three weeks flared in his eyes. “You’re supposed to get hit in football. You’re supposed to hit the other team.”
“Not the kicker,” Tucker answered. He leaned back in the booth and draped his arm over the top of the seat. His forearm brushed against the nape of her neck in a fleeting caress, then was gone. Sensation crashed through her, and she snapped her head around to look at him. Engrossed in his conversation with Nick, he appeared not to notice.
Apparently the contact had been accidental.
She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. Heart pounding, she pretended she hadn’t noticed, either.
“The kicker is off-limits to the other team,” he was explaining to Nick. “When his leg is in the air, he’s completely defenseless.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Nick grumbled.
“The fun is in contributing to the team,” Tucker answered, holding Nick’s gaze. “Knowing that you’re playing as a team. That’s what football is all about.”
He sat back and gave Nick another easy smile, and her stomach did a flip. “Besides, a good kicker is vital in football, and you’re going to be an important part of Monroe’s success this year. I don’t want you to take any chances that will hurt the team.”
Nick glowed, and Claire felt a rush of gratitude. She suspected it had been a long time since Nick had heard praise like that. He was too prickly, too defensive. Tucker was saying exactly what Nick needed to hear.
Tucker’s dinner arrived and he ate quickly, as if he only swallowed the food because he needed fuel. Nick talked about football while he ate, and Claire marveled at the difference in her nephew.
“You’ve been here for a few months now. How do you like Monroe?” Tucker asked as he pushed his empty plate toward the center of the table.
Nick shrugged. “Monroe is okay, I guess.”
His eyebrows rose. “Just okay?”
Nick looked away. “There’s not much to do here.”
“There’s plenty to do, if you’re interested in finding it,” he said, his voice mild. “The parks commission organizes all kinds of stuff for kids during the summer. Did you check that out?”
Nick hunched his shoulder and scowled. “Nah. It all sounded pretty lame to me.”
“Suit yourself.” Tucker leaned back against the seat, and Nick glanced at him, surprised. Claire knew he’d expected the coach to give him the stock speech about making his own opportunities.
“How about you?” Tucker turned to Claire.
“How do I like Monroe?” she asked. “I can’t wait to get back to Chicago.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s where I live. Where I work. And Monroe—” She clamped her mouth shut, shocked that she’d almost blurted out her reasons for hating the town to this stranger.
“Monroe…” he prompted.
“I don’t fit in Monroe,” she said coolly. “I’m much more comfortable in the city.”
“I see.” The cheerful, uncomplicated smile in his eyes was gone, replaced by a bland gaze that hid everything he was thinking. “What is it that you do in Chicago?”
“I own an accounting business.”
“Sounds interesting.” His tone said he thought otherwise.
“It is,” she said with a tiny emphasis. “I’m very happy in Chicago.”
“I told her she didn’t have to stay here,” Nick said from across the table. He glared at her, frowning.
“Nick, you know I wanted to stay,” she replied. “I can work from Monroe almost as easily as from Chicago.”
“You can’t wait to get out of here.”
“That’s right. My home is in Chicago,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “Naturally I want to go back there. But I already told you we’ll stay here until you’re ready to leave.”
“I’m not ready to leave,” he said defiantly.
“I know that. And we have a lot of work to do on the house,” she said briskly. “That’s going to take a while.”
“Why bother to work on the house if we’re going to leave?” Nick challenged.
She felt Tucker’s gaze on her but didn’t look over at him. “We’ll need to sell the house,” she said gently. “It looks like your mom started to fix it up. We’ll finish what she started.”
Nick flicked a stray French fry off the table. “She would have done more,” he said defiantly. “She was just busy with her job.”
“She worked over at city hall, didn’t she?” Tucker rested his elbows on the table and gazed at Nick.
“Yeah. She had some big job over there.”
“What did she do?” Claire asked, curious.
“I don’t know.” Nick shrugged. “She worked in an office.” After a moment, he muttered, “She liked it, the work and the responsib
ility. She said it was the first decent job she’d ever had.”
“It sounds like your mom was glad she’d come back to Monroe,” Tucker said gently.
“She was.” Nick’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “She said it was a new start for both of us.”
“I’m so sorry about her accident,” Tucker said.
Nick stared at them, the challenging, angry look back on his face. “It wasn’t an accident,” he said, his voice thick. He wiped his arm across his eyes to catch any tears that threatened to fall. “My mom was killed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT?” Claire’s gasp fell into the sudden silence.
“You heard me. She was killed.” Nick’s gaze met hers defiantly and he sniffled again. “Someone called her that night. She told me she had to go meet someone.”
“Just because she went to meet someone doesn’t mean she was killed,” Claire said softly.
“She was worried about something.” Nick’s expression dared her to disagree. “She was worried before that night.”
Claire’s heart ached for the boy. Nick had said goodbye to his mother, knowing she was upset, and had never seen her again. Of course he wanted to believe it wasn’t an accident that had killed Janice. Claire took his hand. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
He yanked his hand from her grasp. “I’m not some stupid kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he retorted.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Nick.” Claire wanted to hug him. He’d been completely alone after Janice died. He must have been so frightened, wondering what would happen to him. “I’m being clumsy. It’s just that no one mentioned this as a possibility.”
“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?” Nick’s mouth hardened with determination.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m surprised.”
“You think it doesn’t matter now that she’s dead.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her a stubborn stare, so much like Janice that her heart ached.
“Kendall.” Tucker’s voice was like a whip in the shocked silence. “Apologize to your aunt.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father,” Nick shot back.
“Right now you’re damn lucky that I’m not,” Tucker said grimly. He stared at Nick, his face hard. “But I am your coach and you will respect me. As well as your aunt.” He leaned across the table, his face close to Nick’s. “Do you understand?”
Shocked at Tucker’s transformation from easygoing dinner companion to dangerous male, Claire watched the silent battle of wills.
Nick looked away first. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“Yeah what?” Tucker said.
“Yeah, I understand.”
“That’s good.” Tucker settled against the back of the booth again, but he didn’t take his eyes off Nick. When Nick didn’t say anything, Tucker leaned toward him again. “Don’t you have something to say to your aunt?”
Nick’s eyes darted in her direction. “Sorry.”
Tucker didn’t look away. He kept his gaze locked on Nick’s until the boy muttered, “Sorry, Aunt Claire.”
The tension surrounding Tucker eased as he nodded at Nick. “Thank you. Now do you think you can discuss this with your aunt like an adult?”
“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was surly, but his eyes flickered when Tucker used the word adult.
“The police told me her car slid off the road into the lake,” Claire said carefully. “They didn’t say anything about it not being an accident.”
Nick snorted in derision. “Of course not. Why would they listen to a kid?”
“You’ve talked to the police?” Claire asked.
Nick gave her a guarded look. “Yeah. I told the police officer who came to…who told me what happened.”
“That was smart thinking. What did he say?”
“He said he’d look into it. But he didn’t,” Nick burst out. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he looked into it and found out that it really was an accident,” Claire said gently.
“He didn’t.” Anger sparked in Nick’s eyes. “I asked him later if he found anything and he hadn’t even tried.”
“How do you know?” Claire asked.
“He gave me all that sympathy crap and told me he knew it was hard, blah blah blah, but sometimes accidents happen.” Nick’s voice rose. “I could tell he never checked a thing.”
“I’ll talk to the police,” Claire promised. “I’ll make sure it was an accident.”
“Yeah? You will?”
Claire could see both hope and doubt in Nick’s eyes. “Of course. Janice was my sister. I need to know. And you have a right to know what happened to your mother.”
“He’ll blow you off, too,” Nick muttered.
“I don’t see Seth Broderick blowing off your aunt,” Tucker said, his voice dry.
“Why not?” Nick asked, his eyes guarded as they moved from Tucker to Claire.
“She’s a tough city woman, used to getting what she wants. I suspect she doesn’t take kindly to ‘no,’” Tucker said. “She’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Somehow it didn’t sound like a compliment when Tucker called her a tough city woman. Not bothering to suppress the glimmer of resentment that she’d been judged already and found wanting, Claire ignored him and focused on Nick.
“Mr. Hall is right,” she said firmly. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Nick looked doubtful, but he nodded. “Okay.”
An uneasy silence settled over the table. Claire adjusted her used silverware on her plate and wished Tucker wasn’t sitting so close. She felt the tension flowing from him, felt his efforts to calm down.
She didn’t want to be this aware of him. Finally, after several edgy moments, she put her hands on the table and plastered a smile on her face.
“Well. We don’t want to keep you, Mr. Hall. I’m sure you have things to do tonight. And Nick has homework,” she said with a glance at her nephew.
Tucker didn’t move. He just shifted in his seat and glanced down at her, his blue eyes sharp with understanding. “Yeah, I should get going. I have a few chores to do.” He smiled. “The cave I live in requires a lot of maintenance, you know.”
Claire flushed, remembering her remark about Neanderthals earlier in the day. “Then we won’t keep you. I’m glad you joined us for dinner.” And if he bought that, she was a better liar than she’d thought.
Real amusement lit his eyes. “I enjoyed myself, too. We’ll have to do it again.”
“Absolutely,” she lied. She followed him out of the booth, careful to stand far enough away from him to avoid the force field that crackled around him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Nick,” Tucker said. “And I’m looking forward to having you on the team.”
“Thanks, Coach.” The bruised look in Nick’s eyes faded just a little.
Tucker turned to her. She felt tiny next to the tall, broad-shouldered coach, and she took another step away from him. A flicker of his eyes told her that he’d noticed. “Thank you for letting Nick join the team,” he said quietly. “You won’t be sorry.”
As she watched him walk out the door of the diner, she murmured to herself, “That remains to be seen.”
Nick stared after him as she paid their bill. “Jeez, where does he get off yelling at me about personal stuff? I thought he was a lot cooler than that,” he muttered.
“I still think he’s cool,” she answered lightly. Unfortunately, she thought as she watched Tucker stroll down the street, cool was the last word she’d choose to describe her reaction to Nick’s new football coach.
Nick gave her a disgusted look, then twisted his hand around the bag of football equipment and walked out of the restaurant without waiting for her.
She swallowed hard. His enthusiasm for football and his excitement about his new equipment had apparently vanished. Feeling helpless, she followed him to the car.
He stood impati
ently at the car, waiting for her. Desperate for a way to spend more time with her nephew, she scanned the stores along Main Street. An ice cream shop caught her eye, and she turned to Nick.
“Did you forget those hot fudge sundaes?” she asked brightly. She nodded at the store. “How about dessert?”
He looked at the store and his expression lightened for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said, his voice carefully disinterested.
“I’d like some ice cream. Wouldn’t you?” she pressed.
He shrugged again. “I guess.”
“Let’s put your stuff in the car,” she said as she unlocked it. Once the gear was safely stowed, she headed across the street. This time Nick walked next to her.
She’d take tiny steps of progress wherever she found them.
As they reached the shop, she saw that it was jammed with people. Her hand on the door was suddenly sweaty, and she wiped it on her shorts. Then, lifting her head, she strode into the shop.
Nick stopped abruptly, staring at the petite blond girl behind the counter, scooping out the ice cream. She must have felt his gaze, because she looked up and saw him.
“Hi, Nick,” she called with a smile.
Dark red color flooded Nick’s face. “Hi,” he tried to say. But it came out as nothing more than a strangled croak. He cleared his throat. “Uh, hello,” he finally managed.
The crowd milling around in front of the freezer cases glanced over at them. Several people’s gazes sharpened when they saw her. She nodded to them, her stomach twisting into a knot, but didn’t say anything. Grabbing a ticket, she pressed it and some money into Nick’s hand.
“Order me a small hot fudge sundae,” she said, edging toward the door. “Get whatever you want. I'll wait by the door.”
Nick looked at her, a hint of panic in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to order? Maybe you should check out the flavors.”
Understanding swept over her. Glancing at the young woman behind the counter, she steered Nick to a corner. “Is the girl behind the counter a friend of yours?”
Hometown Girl Page 4