He returned to his chair. “Okay. Thanks.” His tone said, “If that’s the best you can do.”
When she handed him the glass, he caught her wrist and swung her into his lap. He took a drink, sucked an ice cube into his mouth, and then brought his mouth to hers. Under ordinary circumstances, this kiss would have been sublime. It was hot and cold at the same time, and Gabe tasted like clean, metallic sweat—sweat from the energy he’d expended helping her. But in her state of exhaustion, this kiss was life giving and bone melting. She tightened her arm around his neck and ran her hand over his damp hair, hoping he’d reach for her tightening, tingling nipples.
But he didn’t. He pulled away.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I remember every time I kiss you. Then you do that thing with your tongue and I lose the thought.” His smile was so sweet, cloaked in a little shyness, that it might have been Rafe’s.
“I guess I didn’t do that thing with my tongue as effectively this time.” She ran her finger over the cleft in his chin.
“Oh, you were effective, all right. I just worked really hard to hold on to the thought.” His face turned serious. “Why did you do it? Why did you drag me off into the woods and kiss me at the wedding? I usually see that kind of thing coming. But not this time. I could have sworn you thought I was Rafe.”
She’d hoped this would never come up, had hoped he’d never know she knew his secret. But she wasn’t going to lie to him—though she wasn’t above evading the question.
“I didn’t think you were Rafe. I can tell you apart.”
“Even when we’re dressed in matching tuxes?”
She nodded and ran her hand over his neck. “Even then.”
“How? No one can. Missy claims she can, but she can’t.” He swallowed. “Just our mother. So no one alive.”
“Someone alive. Me. And I don’t know how exactly. Something about the way you hold your head, how you smile.”
“So why? You and Rafe had been flirting for two days.”
She shrugged. “We were flirting because he was my escort in the wedding party. That’s all it was. There wasn’t any chemistry. Not like this.” She placed a hand on his chest and stroked his pec.
This time, his smile was wicked and knowing—and one that would never grace Rafe Beauford’s face. “So you were overcome with chemistry?”
It would be so easy to say yes. It was the answer he was expecting, and it would certainly please him.
But she couldn’t do it. “Ultimately, yes. I think that was the real reason. But it wasn’t what I told myself at the time.”
“Then what?”
She took a deep breath. “I had just found out what you did for my daddy,” she whispered. “I was overcome with gratitude—and if I’m going to be honest, lust. I mean, if I’d found out Jackson or old Mrs. Rivers had given the money for the stadium, I wouldn’t have dragged them off to the woods.”
His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. “I didn’t do it.” His words were hollow.
“Gabe, you’re lying.” Her words came out soft, and she kissed the corner of his mouth.
“How? I know every move you made that night. You sat there fawning over my twin until I could have eaten iron spikes for dinner. Then you danced with your daddy. Then, for reasons I cannot fathom, you seemed to have a second dinner with Jimpson—” He stopped short. “It was Coach, wasn’t it? Someone told him, though I told them not to. And he told you.”
She shook her head and pushed his hair off his face. “No. Daddy doesn’t know. It was Jimpson. He told me.”
Gabe’s angel face twisted into that of a confused child. “Jimpson? How?”
“He was buffing the floors at the school the day after the storm. He saw the comings and goings from Ms. McKuen’s office. Later, he heard the news and put it together. And for some reason, he told me, though he said he hadn’t told anyone else. He said he thought I could take care of a secret.”
“And have you?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Jimpson said he figured if you wanted it told, you’d tell it. And I agree.”
“Thank you.”
“The thing I don’t understand is why you don’t want anyone to know. They’d give you a parade down Main Street.”
“That’s the reason.” He was trying to make light of her question. “They already did that—when I won the Heisman. One parade per citizen, please.”
“I was honest with you when I didn’t have to be, Gabe. Tell me why you don’t want anyone to know.”
He closed his eyes briefly and was silent for a moment. He idly stroked her back.
“Every single day I try to be the man my father was—the man your father is. Kind, humble, fair, and every inch a gentleman in every way that matters. And every single day I fail. I get caught up in my own press and end up thinking I’m pretty great.”
“Press happens for a reason,” Neyland said.
“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t know. There’s nothing great about me except how I catch a football. And I might not be so good at that anymore, either. I’m certainly not selfless or gentlemanly. But this one time, I wanted to do something good for the place I came from for the man I owe my career to. And I didn’t want anything for it.”
He looked heartbroken, and her heart broke a little, too.
“Then you got what you wanted because I’ll never tell this to anyone, ever. You did something generous. And you aren’t getting anything for it.”
He gave her a half smile. “I got a kiss.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Do think you wouldn’t have gotten that kiss anyway?”
“Yeah. I would’ve. One way or the other. And what followed.” He set her on her feet and rose. “Come on, sassy britches. Let’s go up to my suite. I’ve got some beer and some pretty good leftovers from the wedding. Steak. Some kind of fancy rice thing. Stuffed mushrooms. Just waiting to be microwaved.”
Her stomach rolled with hunger. “I’m not moving out here to sleep in your bed. We don’t live together.”
“Who said anything about my bed? I’m talking food, woman. You’ve worked me like a dog and got nothing to feed me except some fat-free yogurt and carrot sticks. I’ve got ice cream. Three kinds.” He looked like a man who knew he’d played his trump card.
“Three? What three?”
“Rocky road, chocolate mint chip, and caramel pecan.”
“You had me at rocky road.” Actually, you had me at “Let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door. “No. Leave that on,” she said when he reached for the light switch. “I’ll need it when I come back later tonight.”
The light was still on the next morning when she came back to the carriage house to shower for work.
Chapter Nine
Gabe pulled his car into the slot beside Coach’s pickup truck. He noted with satisfaction that the stadium construction—or more like deconstruction—was well underway. Damn. What a mess. Rafe always said things had to get messy before they got good, though Gabe wasn’t sure what Rafe knew about that. Seems like Rafe had never gotten too messy, whereas Gabe lived it.
As long as Gabe had known him, Coach had taught his economics classes in the mornings before going to his office in the field house to eat and get ready for his fifth and sixth period varsity athletics classes—which meant weight training and football practice. In another hour, the field house would be alive with assistant coaches, team managers, and oversexed, sweaty, little gridiron gods.
But for now, it was quiet—though it might not stay that way long. Coach’s voice tended to escalate when he was dealing out the rough side of his tongue—unless he was really, really pissed. Then he’d go silent on you and shake his head.
Neyland thought because she hadn’t told him, her father didn’t know about her move. Gabe knew better. News traveled fast in Beauford and at light speed when it concerned its more interesting citizens.
The door was open, so Gabe tapped
on the frame.
Coach looked up and motioned him in with his head. He did not smile. And he did not turn off the game film he was watching, nor did he speak as Gabe settled himself into the dreaded, squeaky, green chair of doom.
The old man hadn’t lost his touch at making you squirm; that was for sure.
Finally, he pointed the remote at the television and motioned to the screen with his Diet Mtn Dew can. “Tell me what went wrong here.”
Gabe watched the play that left the quarterback sacked for a loss of eight yards.
They both knew what had happened, but Gabe said, “Let me see it again.”
Still silent, Coach rewound.
“Kid panicked,” Gabe said. “Lance?” Coach nodded. “The O-line gave him plenty of time, but Lance got scared and didn’t get out of the pocket soon enough. He either doesn’t trust his receiver or himself. Probably both.”
Coach nodded and turned off the TV. “He’s a junior, and this fall he’ll be a starter for the first time. At least, he will if he can get his head right. He’s got good hands and a strong arm, but he doesn’t trust either to get the ball down the field. Not trusting Crawford to get where he’s supposed to be is a whole different problem.”
“But secondary to the first problem.”
Coach nodded. “That’s about the size of it.” He reached into the small refrigerator behind him and handed Gabe a soft drink.
“Why, Coach MacKenzie, you’ve become a Dr. Pepper drinker.”
Coach grimaced. “Not likely. I bought it when you got back to town.”
Oh, man! Twist the knife. Gabe busied himself with popping the top and taking a drink.
“So,” Coach said.
And here we go.
“I’m given to understand that you have moved my daughter to Beauford Bend.”
Gabe nodded. “I helped her move, yes. Into Emory’s old place. The carriage house.” He wanted to make that clear, regardless of where Neyland had ended up sleeping last night and where he hoped she’d sleep tonight.
Coach nodded. “I heard through the vine some knitter had rented her old shop.”
“Lace maker,” Gabe corrected him.
Coach gave him a look that said, And this matters how?
“As I was saying,” he said emphatically. “I heard the place had been rented, so I knew Neyland would have to move. I stopped by the hardware store to get some paint for her old room. Imagine my surprise when I heard you’d been there earlier to have some bright, shiny new keys made for her.”
Gabe nodded solemnly. “I thought that best. I wouldn’t want to sully her hands with old, nasty keys.”
Coach closed his eyes and flexed his jaw muscles. Gabe knew Coach was dying to bench him.
“Boy, I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve told you that smart mouth is not going to serve you well.”
“I wish you did, too, sir. More than that, I wish you had a dime for every time you’ve been proven right.”
“I appreciate the position that Neyland put you in by asking to move to Beauford Bend, but I wish you had talked to me before you told her yes.”
Ah, hell. He hadn’t expected that.
“See, here’s the thing, Coach. She didn’t ask me. She was all set to move back with you and Miss Vanessa, but I offered her the carriage house—had to talk her into it, in fact.”
Gabe had not known a man’s face could turn that many colors that fast before settling into angry devil red. Ironic since they were the Blue Devils. Gabe decided not to mention that observation. Instead, he settled back and prepared himself for what was bound to be an ear-splitting ass chewing.
“I see,” Coach said very, very quietly.
Gabe nodded.
“Gabriel.” Fuck. Coach had pulled out Gabriel. No one but Jackson had ever, ever called him that, at least not with any affection.
“Gabriel,” he said again, just in case Gabe hadn’t caught it the first time or didn’t understand the implications. “Would you mind telling me why you did that? When you knew I wanted her to move back with us?”
Gabe shrugged. “She was sad.” And though he hadn’t relished the thought of Neyland sleeping somewhere for the next two weeks where she would be expected to explain her comings and goings, that’s really what it had come down to.
“Sad? At having to come home where she’s cherished? And where she won’t have to worry about money? That makes a whole hell of a lot of sense.”
Gabe thought long and hard before he let the words rambling around on his tongue come out of his mouth—something he didn’t usually do.
“Would you have wanted to move back with your family when you came back to Beauford?” Interesting experiment that he’d thought it through but said it anyway.
“You mean after I failed in the NFL?”
Gabe shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I, of all people, do not consider you a failure. You know what I think of you. What I’m asking is, as a grown man, would you have wanted to move back in with your family?”
“That was different.”
Not so different. They had never discussed it, but it would make sense that Coach knew Gabe knew exactly what had happened back then. And he did, because Aunt Amelia had told him. It had been quite the dustup at the time.
The MacKenzies had founded Beauford Savings and Loan three generations back, and though they’d had many offers to merge with huge banking institutions, they’d held on to it ever since. Having an NFL football star for a son had been good enough for old Vincent MacKenzie, but a high school football coach was a different matter. When Coach hadn’t made it past the preseason with the Bills, his father had been adamant that his younger son join the family business. When Coach had announced his own career plan, Vincent had told him he’d never see a dime of MacKenzie money and even if Coach could become accustomed to the reduced lifestyle that a teacher’s salary would afford him, Vanessa Todd would never marry him.
But she had, and now Coach’s older brother ran the bank and lived in the ancestral home while Coach and Miss Vanessa lived in a rambling old Victorian that always needed something done to it. And as near as Gabe could tell, they were all pretty happy about it.
“How was it different?” Gabe asked. “She wants to be independent.”
“For one thing, meager as it was at the time, I had a steady paycheck. And though all she had was an art history degree and a different set of expectations, I had a wife who was willing to get a real estate license to help make ends meet. I don’t notice that Neyland has any of that. Though, come to think of it, if she’s set on not teaching school, real estate might not be a bad way for her to go.”
Gabe hadn’t seen that laugh coming. If he had, he would have tried to stifle it.
Coach gave him the stink eye. “And what’s so funny?”
He just laughed more. “Neyland selling real estate!”
“Are you criticizing my wife’s profession?”
“No! Of course not. But Miss Vanessa is … more … well, patient.”
In spite of himself, a little smile played with Coach’s mouth. “You mean she’s better able to suffer fools?”
“Something like that,” Gabe said.
“I guess she’s had plenty of practice, being married to me all these years.”
“But seriously, Coach. Neyland hasn’t failed at this jewelry thing yet.”
“It’s a matter of time. You know it and I know it.”
Yeah. Probably true. And that was too bad. Neyland made nice jewelry, but if she’d had any business sense, she’d have sold him that necklace. He doubted that was the first bad decision she’d made, and he doubted she would be open to accepting advice from someone who could help her—like him. He ran his own affairs and did a damn fine job of it. Maybe he could get her to listen to him. He’d give that some thought.
“But I guess, for now, it is what it is.” Coach picked up his TV remote. “At least, she’s safe at Beauford Bend, what with all the security Jackson’s got out t
here.”
Yeah. Safe from everything except me.
Coach put his feet on his desk and switched the game film back on. “Help me figure out how I’m going to fix my QB.”
“I’ll help any way I can,” Gabe promised.
• • •
Gabe ran downfield and waited for the ball. When he’d told Coach he’d do what he could to help, he hadn’t imagined that would entail actually working with Lance Owens. But that’s what Coach had wanted, so Gabe had followed the bus that had transported the team to the middle school field for practice, and here he was—sweating bullets, and not because of the weather.
He hadn’t tried to catch a ball since last January. And it didn’t look like he was going to have to try to catch one today, because Lance couldn’t get it to him. This time the ball got the distance, but it veered so far off course The Flash couldn’t have gotten to it.
Gabe retrieved the ball and waved the boy to the sidelines.
“Sorry,” Lance said.
“Don’t be sorry. Spend that energy listening to me. Lance, who am I?”
The kid looked at him wide-eyed. “G…Gabe Beauford?”
“Good. Very good. What did I win my senior year at UT?”
“The Heisman Trophy?”
“Yes. What does that mean?”
“That you were the best college player in the world that year.”
“The United States, to be precise, but in this case, that’s the same thing. Do you know how high I went in the draft?”
“Number three in the first round.”
“Correct. Who won back-to-back Super Bowls year before last and the year before that?”
“You did.”
“Not me. My team. But who was MVP in both those games?”
“You were.”
“Would all that tell you I’m a pretty good wide receiver?” Or used to be.
Reforming Gabe Page 8