Players

by Rachel Cross

  “I suspect a lot of women have liked the way he made them feel when they were with him, Shannon. Until the morning after, at least. I just don’t want to see you end up as another notch on his bedpost.”

  Heat rushed into Shannon’s cheeks. “Clarissa! That’s not why I’m going to see him.”

  “Maybe not, but what happens when you actually do see him again? You might do something you’ll regret—”

  “I already have,” Shannon burst out.

  “What? Oh, honey,” Clarissa said with obvious dismay.

  “Not that,” Shannon returned, feeling the heat in her face grow. “What I meant is I regret the way I’ve spent the last ten years of my life, Clarissa. Ten years just waiting and hoping. Ten years I’ll never get back.”

  Her friend was silent.

  “I don’t want to live like that anymore. I feel like I’ve lost so much time as it is, and life’s just too short to waste chances like that.”

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Shannon.”

  “I know. And I appreciate that,” Shannon said softly. Then she let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-laugh, but it was without mirth. “Hey, cheer up. Chances are he’ll give me a platonic little pat on the head and just send me on my way, and all this worry will have been for nothing.” Her heart hurt at the thought, but she kept her voice carefully neutral.

  Or maybe she didn’t, because Clarissa’s voice turned gentle. “You’ve never given yourself enough credit, honey. You’re a warm, wonderful, and lovely young woman, and no man in his right mind is just going to send you on your way. That’s what worries me.”

  “He wouldn’t use me like that.” That was one thing of which she did feel sure. “He might not want me, but he wouldn’t treat me the way you’re afraid he might.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but he’s not the kind of man a woman settles down with, Shannon. Or builds a future with.”

  “Could be.” Shannon swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “But I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  There was a long pause before Clarissa spoke again. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

  “No.”

  The older woman sighed. “Then I suppose there’s nothing left to say except I’m here if you need me.”

  As in, to pick up the pieces, Shannon thought with a pang. “Could you maybe look in on Bo while I’m gone?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  Shannon drew a deep breath. “Clarissa?”

  “Yes?”

  Her voice shook. “I’m kind of terrified.”

  “Honey, you’ve got more guts than you realize. Regardless of what happens with Michael, remember that, okay?”

  “I’ll try. Thanks.”

  “And if you change your mind, there’s a nice young man who works at the drugstore that I could—”

  “Clarissa.” But Shannon’s mouth curved upward.

  “All right, all right.” There was a pause. “Call me when you get back.”

  “I will.”

  Shannon hung up the phone and stared at the overnight bag in front of her. “Well,” she said aloud. “Here goes nothing.”

  • • •

  After yet another restless night of tossing and turning, Shannon dragged herself out of bed as soon as the light of dawn glowed outside her window. Might as well get an early start and get this over with that much sooner, she supposed. She wasn’t going to get any more sleep this morning anyway. But determined as she was to see this whole thing through with Michael, her anxiety made her movements slow as she dressed.

  Even choosing clothes to wear had proven stressful, as if success depended on the right style of shirt or accessories. Stop it, she told herself, and then simply grabbed the first plain t-shirt she saw in her bureau drawer along with a pair of jeans. Michael knew she was no glamour girl. If it turned out he did want her, then the clothes shouldn’t matter.

  Shannon started to put her hair in its usual braid and then caught sight of her reflection in the dresser mirror. She slowly let her hands fall away from her hair, and its fiery waves hung freely past her shoulders. Vibrancy and color, that was what Clarissa had said. Would Shannon herself ever be able to see it that way? It was hard to imagine such a thing. Taunts from her childhood filled her memory, and her hands twitched as if barely resisting the urge to twist the strands tightly back into old familiar confines. There was safety in hiding, after all.

  Your hair is beautiful.

  She heard Michael’s voice in her head and closed her eyes. Enough hiding. She was not a child anymore, or an insecure teenager. It was high time she let the past go, even if she wasn’t entirely sure yet how to do that. Little by little, she decided. Starting now.

  She left her hair down and went downstairs to feed Bo his breakfast.

  A few minutes later, she was in her car with her key in the ignition. Don’t you dare look back, she told herself, and she pulled the car out of the driveway and headed for the highway before she could change her mind.

  • • •

  The internet was an amazing thing. So were smartphones, Shannon thought, pulling her car into the parking lot of the bar that the directions on her phone swore belonged to Michael.

  Even though it was getting dark out, it was easy to see the lot was over half full, and Shannon could see enough inside the windows to tell the bar was far from empty. Fantastic. So she would have an audience to her reunion with Michael, at least at first. Couldn’t be easy, could it?

  Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. She peeled them off it and cut the engine but stayed put in the car, her eyes on the building. Through its windows she caught glimpses of people laughing and clinking glasses together, their movements casual and relaxed, in complete contrast with the turmoil inside of her. What else was new? She’d have thought she’d gotten used to being the odd one out by now.

  Shannon forced herself to open the car door and step out. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for support and took a deep breath. Maybe he won’t even be there tonight, she thought with a mixture of dread and hope.

  But then she caught sight of him through one of the front windows, and her panicky heart beat even faster. He was delivering a handful of drinks to a group of women who were obviously ogling him, giggling behind their hands and fluttering eyelashes that looked much too long to be real. One of them, a blonde, tossed her hair and laughed at something Michael said.

  Shannon’s eyes widened, and she abruptly turned to open the car door again, intending to leap back inside. At the last second, she managed to stop herself.

  No. She had already decided there was no going back, and she meant it. It wasn’t really so complicated, was it? All she had to do was walk up to him and be honest about her feelings. If he didn’t feel the same way about her, they could still shake hands and part friends. And she could walk away with her dignity intact and her head held high.

  Sure, if this was an after-school special, Shannon thought, her mouth going dry. Real life never seemed to be that simple.

  But she pushed off from the car with her hands and began walking toward the entrance of the bar with her feet dragging like a prisoner on the way to her execution. Her palms were so sweaty they nearly slipped off the handle of the door when she reached it. Wiping them on her jeans, she tried again and stepped inside.

  • • •

  Michael’s latest customers were living it up and painting the town tonight judging by the shortness of their skirts and the hints of glam from head to toe. And by the way they let their eyes roam over him as he approached with their drinks, they were looking for company of the male variety. He wished now that he had sent Sammy out with their drinks instead.

  Michael set each drink in front of its respective owner, pretending he didn’t notice the looks they were giving him. “Margarita, gin and tonic, house ale, and club soda with a twist of lime,” he finished, sliding it before an attractive blonde who had an air of authority about her and was
likely the ringleader of the group.

  The blonde shook her head and switched the drinks. “That’s hers,” she corrected him with a coy smile and a nod of her head to one of her companions. “She’s the designated driver. Unless, of course—” Here she leaned closer to Michael, “someone else winds up taking me home tonight.”

  Her friends giggled into their drinks.

  Michael gave the blonde a polite but indifferent smile. “Not your first round of drinks tonight, is it, ladies?”

  There were more smirks and appraising glances.

  Michael subtly extracted his arm from the grasp of one of the four giggly women and took a step back and out of their reach. “Enjoy your drinks,” he said politely, and then he turned around to head back to the bar—

  And froze as brilliant coppery hair caught his eye and he met Shannon’s gaze where she stood just inside the doorway.

  She lifted one hand in a half-hearted flicker of a wave, her expression uncertain and uneasy.

  Michael blinked at her in shock and might have stood there staring even longer if a passing customer hadn’t bumped into him and jolted him back to awareness. Finding his voice at last, he wound his way around a couple of tables and stopped in front of her. “Shannon?” Her unexpected presence there sent a wave of pure pleasure through him so sharp it was almost painful.

  She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and dropped her eyes to his chest. “Hi.”

  Her hair was down around her shoulders, which reminded him immediately of the evening they spent together in the high school parking lot. And of the kiss before that. His pulse grew erratic. “Why—what are you doing here?”

  Her eyes darted up to meet his briefly, then dropped again. “I, uh . . . there’s something I need to—I mean—”

  A group of happy customers a few tables over erupted in hoots and guffaws at something one of them did, and whatever else Shannon said was drowned out. Michael bent closer to try and hear her. “What?”

  She took a deep breath. “I said—”

  But more noise interrupted her. “Here,” Michael said, putting a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the back room. “Come with me.”

  She jumped at the contact, and Michael quickly let his hand fall away from her. He gestured ahead instead, and she moved in that direction. His eyes followed her every movement even as he followed her: the way she kept nervously brushing her hair back behind one ear, the way each step drew his attention to the natural motion of her hips . . . He tore his eyes away from them a second before she glanced furtively over her shoulder at him.

  What was she doing here?

  Michael closed the door behind them once they were inside the makeshift office, shutting out the noise of the bar. The size of the room made it impossible to put much space between the two of them, so he remained by the door while Shannon hovered by the wall farthest from him. She seemed tense, and he racked his brain trying to figure out what reason she might have for tracking him down like this instead of simply calling. It would have to be something important, something—

  He stiffened. “Did something happen? Is Drew okay?”

  Shannon turned away from the wall to face him. Sort of. Her eyes looked everywhere but at his, and her hands remained rigidly in her pockets. “Drew’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  “Oh,” he said with relief but also confusion. He was back to square one then. “Okay. I just figured . . . I’m just surprised to see you here.”

  “Yeah,” she acknowledged, her voice strained. “I Googled you, and . . . ” She swallowed hard as if her mouth had grown suddenly dry. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. Small business, backbone of America, right?”

  She made a noncommittal sort of sound, and then she began biting her bottom lip. His eyes fixated on that tiny action, and an image of him sweeping his desk clear and bringing her down on top of it suddenly flickered into his mind. He forced it out again and crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep his hands out of trouble.

  Shannon leaned back against the wall as if for support. “So,” she said finally. “The dedication ceremony was yesterday.”

  Michael nodded grimly.

  “It was nice. It’s going to be a good place, Michael. Your parents would like it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  She scuffed at some invisible mark on the floor with the toe of her shoe. “Drew gave a good speech,” she continued softly.

  “I’m sure he did.” A new image popped into his head then, one of his brother and Shannon at the ceremony. Had their eyes met during his speech? Had they exchanged special smiles meant only for each other? Michael’s stomach turned suddenly queasy, and he mentally berated himself. Who was he to get jealous and possessive? She was with the man she should be with, and it was for the best. But the words just seemed to refuse to sink in no matter how many times he repeated them in his head. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Just a few more minutes of hanging on to whatever slim bit of his resolve remained, and then she would say whatever she had come to say and leave. He could fake nonchalance for a little longer, couldn’t he? He forced a smile onto his face and spoke with false cheerfulness. “So, you two—”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  That single word sent a sudden rush of pleasure and relief through him, and he was grateful her eyes remained downcast so he had time to wipe those feelings from his expression before she could see them. Bastard. Don’t you want her to be happy? “You aren’t? Why not?”

  Then she finally did look up at him, and her eyes were filled with what he had fantasized about seeing there since the day he said goodbye to her on her deck. Her eyes were filled with him.

  Oh, hell, he thought with despair.

  • • •

  Shannon held Michael’s gaze long enough to see his eyes widen with realization, and then she was forced to look down again, too overwhelmed by her nerves to maintain eye contact. All in all, this was actually going better than she had expected. She hadn’t thrown up yet, or passed out. And it looked like she didn’t have to worry about finding the right words to tell him anymore, which was good since none of the speeches she had considered during the drive here belonged anywhere outside of a soap opera. But it would be nice if he would say something.

  Anything.

  “Shannon . . . ” he said finally, his voice faltering and strained.

  She shrugged without looking up and managed a shaky laugh even though her insides were churning. “Yeah, I know. Go figure, huh?”

  “Sweetheart, you—this is a mistake. You’re just confused.”

  She swallowed again and made herself look him in the eye. “I’m not confused.”

  His own eyes were still wide, and much of the color had drained from his face. “Yes, you are,” he insisted, his jaw twitching. “Drew’s the one you want. He’s what you’ve wanted since high school, right? You said so yourself.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “No, you weren’t. Drew’s the good brother. He’s grounded, he’s dependable, he’s—”

  “He’s not the one I want,” she said softly, her heart pounding. If she thrust her hands any deeper into her pockets, she’d put holes in them.

  Michael ran his hands through his hair and started pacing, difficult to do in a room this small. Her attention followed him as she tried to interpret his reaction. Well, it wasn’t pity at least. She was sure of that. Unfortunately, it didn’t look a whole lot like the rapture of a man in love, either, she thought with a sinking feeling.

  “Damn it, this is all my fault,” he muttered more to himself than to her, his expression one of obvious distress.

  Shannon blinked, startled. She had imagined this conversation taking many different turns, but this was not one of them. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It was the kiss, wasn’t it? That night at the park. I should never have kissed you. I shouldn’t have—damn it, I got your head all mixed up, that’s all. Don’t you
see that?”

  “What?”

  He swore under his breath. “You were doing just fine before I came along.”

  “Not really, I wasn’t.”

  “Well you were seeing things a lot more clearly than you are now. I just . . . ” Michael shook his head and stopped pacing only to slump back against the door, looking for all the world like he’d been given the worst news of life.

  In the midst of all the stomach-turning emotions going on inside her, Shannon felt a flicker of irritation. What did he have to get so upset about? She was the one going out on a limb here, after all, not him. “You just what?”

  “I . . . ” He gestured helplessly. “You don’t really want me. Trust me.”

  “I don’t really want you,” she repeated slowly. Her tone got cooler, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “No, you don’t. You just think you do, because—”

  “Because . . . you dazzled me?” Her irritation grew, loosening her tongue. Did everyone believe she was an impressionable idiot?

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” He sighed. “I mean, you were inexperienced—”

  “Inexperienced, sure. Not stupid!”

  Michael looked up at her, startled, and took a hesitant step toward her as if to calm her down. “Shannon—”

  “Oh, shut up!” She yanked her hands out of her pockets and gave him a shove in the middle of his chest that sent him staggering back against the door. “You jerk! You really think you’re ‘all that,’ don’t you?”

  If possible, his eyes grew even wider. “No, it’s just—” He tried again to go to her.

  She shoved him away again. “You really think I’m such a bumpkin all you had to do was smile and I’d be swept off my feet? I’m such a wallflower that’s all it would take? Are you really that full of yourself?” She glared at him as he stared at her, speechless. “Well? Say something!”

  “No, I’m not full of myself. It’s just . . . ”

  “What? It’s just what?” she demanded.

  Michael cleared his throat. “It’s just that it has happened to me a few times before,” he said awkwardly.

  Oh.

  She felt a little of the wind go out of her sails as she realized it was no doubt true. Women had been throwing themselves at his feet for years because of his looks. Why wouldn’t he assume she’d do the same?