Will froze with his hand on the driver’s door handle. With his face in profile, he said, “Fuck you, Hunter.”
Chapter 15
Alec stood in the driveway until Will squealed around the corner and off Lilliana’s street. His heart pumped liked he’d sprinted to Hancock House from town. He’d been tempted to tackle Will Galloway to the ground for daring to come to Hancock House, but the kid was a minor, no matter what kind of grown-up trouble he was courting.
As soon as the pumping bass from the car faded, Alec took the front steps two at a time and wrapped his hands around Lilliana’s upper arms. He wanted to press her close against his chest, feel the thump of her heart, the heat of her skin. Hunter stared down the street even though Will was probably halfway to Mill Town by now.
Neither appeared hurt, but the question popped out anyway. “Did he touch you?”
“No. He came by wanting Hunter to head home with him.” Lilliana sent a glance Hunter’s way.
“Naw. He wanted me to ride along while he made a deal.” Hunter’s voice was thin and didn’t carry far.
“That’s not what he said,” she said.
Hunter’s eye roll was full of teenage exasperation. “You seriously think my bro is hanging with our mama on a Saturday? Biggest party night in Falcon.”
“Wow, my life has gotten really boring.” The mood lightened with her teasing quip.
Alec forced his attention away from the woman who had stolen his thoughts all day to Hunter. Will Galloway was a bomb that would eventually explode, and Alec didn’t want Hunter or Lilliana to become collateral damage. Maybe it was time to call the police. “What do you want to do?”
“I finished my homework for Monday. Thought maybe we could work on the bathroom. I still owe you for my car.” Hunter stubbed the toe of his shoe against the edge of a column.
Alec hesitated. Had Hunter gone with Will on his deals in the past? Probably. Could he be implicated in some form along with Will? Maybe. Alec didn’t know the laws.
The playoffs loomed with the best team Falcon had fielded in decades. Even a one-game suspension for Hunter would probably screw the team’s chances at a state title but more importantly, Hunter’s future would be shot to hell. Alec ran a hand over his jaw, suppressing a torrent of curses.
“Let’s get to work then.” Frustration with the situation bit his words short.
Alec’s anger and helplessness faded as they worked side by side, laying tile in neat, organized, logical rows. Their conversation didn’t touch on Will, staying safely in the realm of football and school and girls. After a couple of hours of work, Hunter pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, a crack zigging over an incoming text. Black duct-tape wrapped the back.
“I gotta go, Coach. Ma needs me.”
“Dammit, I don’t like you there. It’s not safe.”
“It’s home.” Hunter shrugged. White flecks of grout peppered his close-cropped hair, and his light brown gaze dropped to the floor. His body language screamed exhaustion and inevitability. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the bedroom door. Alec followed a few steps behind.
Lilliana shut the door on a delivery boy, the smell of hot pizza filling the entryway. She turned with the box propped on her hip, her gaze darting between Hunter and Alec. “What’s going on?”
“Ma’s picking me up.”
Lilliana shoved the pizza at Alec. She got in front of Hunter and tugged the sides of Hunter’s hoodie jacket. “You call if you need anything. You got me?”
A flash of white was as close to a smile as he gave them, and tension seemed to evaporate from his body. “Will do, Miss Lilliana. Thanks for everything. I’m going to hang my picture in my room tonight.”
Hunter’s mom didn’t pull into Lilliana’s drive but idled on the street. He skipped down the front porch steps and stopped by the open window of the driver’s side.
Lilliana pushed Alec in the small of his back. “Go offer them the pizza and make sure his mom is okay.”
Alec jogged toward the car, and Hunter straightened and looked over his shoulder, effectively hiding his mother from view. “Did I forget something, Coach?”
“The pizza.” Alec held it out, but Hunter made no move to take the box. Alec stumbled over an explanation. “Lilliana’s worried about … her hips. You know, the calories. You’d be doing her a favor.”
Alec tried on a jovial smile, but had a feeling he looked like a creep luring a kid into a van with candy. He craned his neck to see around Hunter. “Hello, Ms. Galloway. How are you this evening?”
Ms. Galloway pushed Hunter aside with a hand on his hip. “Lovely. Thank Mr. Grayson for the pizza and get in, Hunter.”
Hunter hesitated but took the box. Keeping his head down, he slouched around the front and slid into the passenger seat. Alec set his hands on the open window and leaned closer. No obvious injuries marred her dark, smooth skin or caramel-colored eyes so similar to Hunter’s.
Pride had her chin up and meeting his eyes, but he recognized the ruse. She’d taken the pizza readily enough when Hunter would have denied it. At some point, pride became too costly.
“Hunter could have his pick of colleges, Ms. Galloway.”
She hummed, her lips pressed together. “Not everyone is meant for college, Coach Grayson.”
Hunter stared at the top of the pizza box, his fingers crumpling the sides of the stiff cardboard. Never had Alec considered Hunter’s mother as an obstacle. Dropping any pretense of charm, Alec’s voice turned grim. “Do you want Hunter to live in Mill Town and work at the factory?”
“It’s been a good life.”
“Has it?”
Ms. Galloway’s face flashed with an anger reminiscent of Will. “Keep to the football field and out of my family’s life, Coach Grayson.” The window rolled up, forcing Alec to pull his hands back. She drove off with a squeal of tires.
Lilliana waited at the top of the stairs, her hands on her hips, a corner of her mouth drawn back. “What in the world did you say?”
He threw his hands in the air. “What the hell? I’m trying to help.”
“Your heartfelt offers sometimes come off a little … cold.”
He stared into her eyes, trudging up the stairs, his steps loud in the quiet evening. She didn’t look away, only tilted her face to maintain contact. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried his best to look like he didn’t care, yet her words slipped straight into his chest like shards of glass.
His youth lived in his memories like a nostalgic movie. He’d been outgoing and popular in high school. His teammates had been his friends, and they’d laughed and had fun. He’d done a few stupid things like most teenage boys, but nothing on the wrong side of the law. Football had been something that had brought him happiness, but he’d assumed it had been snatched from him forever.
Now he saw that kind of happiness in the woman who stood in front of him.
“I’m an asshole,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
The depths of her eyes swallowed him. “You’re not an asshole, but you do a pretty job making people think you are sometimes. Why don’t you come in and have dinner?”
She pivoted, her hair swinging out to skim his forearms, with goose bumps breaking out. “You gave away our pizza.”
“Technically, you did. How about ham-and-cheese omelet?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled everything out of the fridge and set a pan on the stove eye. She flipped on the radio, and a slow country song filled the blank space.
He leaned against the granite bar top. Swaying to the music, she turned in the middle of cracking an egg, a smile on her face. The simple domesticity of the moment made his stomach cramp. How long had it been since he’d shared meals and troubles with someone? He was torn between contentment and fear. Losing her might be more devastating than even his knee injury.
Her smile turned questioning. “You okay there, Mr. Football?”
He swallowed hard, hoping he didn’t look as shell shocked as he felt. �
��Fine.”
He devoured his omelet, hungry but also wanting to keep conversation to a minimum, not sure how he could keep her from wiggling further into his life or if he even wanted to put up a fight. But, he’d spent so many years alone and lonely for a reason. Betrayal.
“Lilliana, you’re sure we never met at Alabama?” He speared his last bite and looked up.
She dropped her fork, and it clanged against the plate. Her hands disappeared under the table. Her smile wiped away, and with a crinkle between her eyes, she said, “Not that I recall. Why are you asking?”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin but held his gaze. He either believed her or he didn’t. He relaxed in the chair, his heart choosing for him. “No reason.”
Half of her omelet was left when she pushed the plate forward and crossed her arms on the table.
“I’m sending Edwin off tomorrow. Mama needs a new pair of shoes,” she said in a Mae West accent, but then turned thoughtful, her tone modulating. “Actually, Hunter needs a new pair of shoes. Have you seen his sneakers? Worn smooth on the bottom.”
How long had Hunter been coming to practice hungry, worried, scared? All Alec had done was drill him harder. “How loud would he squawk if I took him shoe shopping?”
“Loud enough to bring the police running, I imagine.” She propped her chin on a hand, her head tilting as she considered him. “You could leave them on his porch like a good fairy. I might have an old tutu from my failed ballerina days you could borrow.”
Her gift was making him laugh, and after being without laughter for so long, he recognized how precious it was. Still chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair. Grit coated the top strands. Probably he should head home for the night. He didn’t want to get in the habit of sleeping over every night. It screamed commitment. “I need to head home for a shower.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it tight, nodding. “Would you mind helping me move my shipping crate downstairs first?”
He was positive she’d been planning to say something else, but didn’t press her.
Bulky but not particularly heavy, he maneuvered the crate down the stairs, leaning it next to the front door. She ran her fingers over the rough wood. “It’s silly, but I’ll kind of miss him. I shared some deep thoughts with Old Edwin.”
“Did he talk back?”
She cut her eyes to the side, a smile playing at her mouth. “Maybe a little. In my head.”
He couldn’t seem to not smile back. “Hunter mentioned you drew him a picture.”
“A caricature like I used to draw in Central Park.”
“Do you miss New York?”
“I miss my friends. I miss the galleries. There’s an energy in the city.” She paused. “But, it’s also noisy, dirty, and expensive. The winters are terrible. When I was there I missed Alabama, when I’m here, I miss New York. It’s the irony of life, isn’t it?”
He and irony were on a first-name basis. “The grass is always greener?”
“Something like that. On the other hand, I’ve always been able to find my groove wherever I land. Maybe because I was the product of divorce.”
Lilliana was the summer sun to his dark side of the moon. Maybe that’s why he’d been drawn to her—her laugh drifting across the field, the flip of her hair, her smile. Yet, the shadows had become a comfortable place to be and he was afraid of being burned.
“I’d better go. What time should I pick you up in the morning?”
“Oh God, church. Are you sure?”
“I don’t want your aunt to stop putting my favorite books aside for me.” He tried on a teasing voice. It felt like putting on an old shirt, a little too tight and slightly uncomfortable, but oddly familiar. He’d been easygoing and charming at some point in his past. She smiled, and he smiled back feeling tingly inside.
“Service starts at eleven.”
“I’ll be here a quarter till.”
She opened the front door for him, and he hesitated. If he kissed her, he wasn’t sure he could stop, yet a hug seemed too impersonal. She solved the dilemma, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, her breasts pressed into his arm, her hand around his forearm. Just when he’d decided to say “Fuck it” and carry her back upstairs, she pulled back and shut the door in his face.
Chapter 16
Lilliana stared out the window and fidgeted, picking at the cuticle of her thumbnail to the point of pain, as Alec pulled into the crowded parking lot of Falcon First Baptist Church. The sky was a bright blue unique to fall, providing a background for the patchwork of colors on the trees lining the street. The sun warmed the air, but the breeze was a reminder winter was around the corner.
Ladies in dresses and men in dress pants or suits walked two by two toward the church, children trailing behind some. Lilliana wasn’t a regular churchgoer. Her occasional attendance was to appease her aunt. She smoothed her slim skirt down and adjusted her sweater.
After the engine turned off, she shifted toward Alec. He looked handsome and preppy in dark gray dress pants, a crisp button-down and jacket, but no tie.
“This”—she pointed back and forth between them—“is going to start talk. What kind of story do you want to go with?”
“I thought we settled it the other night. I applied for boyfriend status.”
Lilliana hesitated. He’d made no move to sleep over the night before—granted, he had needed a shower, but he could have used hers—and their parting had a tinge of awkwardness. When he didn’t appear ready to make a move, she’d kissed his cheek, for goodness sake.
She swallowed down a lump of nerves, the mass churning in her stomach. “We’re officially dating, not just having sex?”
He laid an arm over the back of her seat and leaned in. A subtle masculine scent filtered to her, hooking her closer. She fingered the collar of his shirt on the pretense of straightening it, when she really wanted a peek of his tattoo. No, what she really wanted was to skip church and make out in his truck. Maybe hike her skirt up and straddle him.
“I wouldn’t be at church with you if we were only having sex.”
She didn’t put much stock into post-coitus declarations, but it seemed he had been serious about being her boyfriend. “Okay. If someone asks, then I’ll tell them you’re my”—she swallowed, the word having a hard time coming unstuck—“boyfriend.”
He didn’t acknowledge the word that seemed to hang in the cab. Taking a deep breath, she turned away and opened her door, but as she stepped onto the running board, he was there, lifting her down. She wobbled in her heels and wrapped her hands around his forearms before finding her footing on the gravelly pavement.
He slipped his hand under the edge of her sweater, his thumb burning the bare skin of her waist in a subtle caress. She caught his eye, wondering if he knew she was imagining him naked in the middle of the church parking lot minutes before they planned to sit through a sermon on fornication or lust. Preacher Higgs could be counted on to cover one or the other, maybe both.
Still he didn’t release her, his eyes half lidded, his lips parted and relaxed. What if she fell into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tugged his bottom lip between her teeth? The breeze snapped around her bare legs. The church bell tolled, solemn and resonant, the sound vibrating through her chest.
“Should we find seats?” His voice was husky.
She hummed. They entered on the tail end of the stragglers. All hopes of slipping into a back pew died, when her aunt stood and waved a hand, her voice the opposite of a quiet librarian. “Lilliana, Alec. I have seats.”
A collective shift squeaked the pews as dozens of eyes were cast over shoulders. Lilliana stifled a small unchristian curse, pasted a smile on her face, and led Alec up the main aisle. Every few rows, someone would toss a football question in their direction. Alec answered briefly but politely while she kept them shuffling toward her aunt’s orange hair.
They slipped into the second pew from the front and sat between her aunt and Miss Jane. “Where is Miss Constan
ce?” Lilliana whispered toward Miss Jane.
“Tippled too much whiskey last night during our bridge game. She’s sleeping it off.” Miss Jane winked, her face full of mirth and mischief.
A giggle shot out of Lilliana, driven by the uncomfortableness of the situation. The heads above the red choir gowns of the first row all turned in her direction.
“How are you holding up?” She whispered toward Alec.
His warm breath in her ear sent shivers up her arms. “You act like this is a combat zone.”
“You’re catching on. Your only weapon? A polite smile.”
He did a better job muffling his laughter, but the vibration of his chest sped through her like a landslide. He shifted his arm to rest along the back of the pew, and she naturally scooched a few inches into his pseudo-embrace. She could easily get used to having Alec as a boyfriend.
The church service proceeded. She stood and sat when appropriate, mouthed the words of familiar hymns, all the while sinfully aware of the man beside her. Each time they regained their seats, she managed to get another inch closer.
Her hand was in Alec’s, their fingers twining and untwining, the caress sweet and tender and devastating to her concentration. The sermon involved some high-energy yelling from the preacher and some enthusiastic “Amens” from the congregation, but the message failed to take root.
She risked a side-eye glance toward Alec. The sun shone through the stained-glass window, shards of color highlighting the stern, serious set of his profile, his attention squarely on the preacher. The flash of a smile turned his lips as his hand squeezed hers.
As Preacher Higgs intoned the last “Amen,” the organ struck up the processional, and everyone stood. The buzz of a hive of gossiping queen bees filled the sanctuary. The men clumped together like the workers to discuss jobs or football.
Brandy Hancock and her mother Patti were at the exit of their pew before Lilliana had a chance to escape. Patti allowed Miss Jane into the aisle but sidled into the pew, blocking her and Alec in. Alec’s back was to her, talking with her aunt and one of the men who attended football practice more religiously than church.
Melting Into You Page 16