Kickoff

by Jami Davenport

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” He stared at her, but she closed the shutters and froze her expression into one of calm confidence. Damn, he wanted to rattle her composure.

  “I’m okay, but you haven’t worked out in the evenings with me. I thought something might be wrong, so I gave you some space.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. That explained the worry in her eyes, a momentary breach in her armor. She’d been worried about him, about them.

  “I worked a charity function last night, and the night before, I pored over game films with the team.”

  “Dare, you don’t owe me an explanation.” She spoke softly and looked away, not meeting his gaze.

  “I would’ve invited you, but you don’t like being seen with me in public.”

  “You know why. I’d rather not attract any attention to us.”

  “Honey, you attract plenty of attention without me.” He moved to her like metal to a magnet and pulled her to his chest. She stiffened in his arms, her hands at her sides. He wove his fingers through her hair and kissed her neck.

  “If you found someone else to relax with before a game, I’d understand.”

  “Is that what this is about?” He pulled back and searched her eyes for an honest reaction. It was important to him.

  She nodded. “I don’t want you to feel trapped. Either of us is free to step away at any moment with no harm done.”

  No harm done? He wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t care to dissect his own feelings or her apparent lack of feelings. “I want you, Rae.”

  “I want you too.” Her mouth turned up at the corners, almost a smile but not quite. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went all soft against him. His heart rate increased tenfold.

  Warmth spread through him. She’d dropped her guard, and he inched inside.

  Standing on tiptoes, she kissed the tip of his nose. Such a simple act brought incredible pleasure. He sighed and buried his face in her hair. The silky strands caressed his face, tickled his nose. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, reminding him of the roses his mom had grown in her garden.

  Lifting his head, he met her gaze. Aw, hell, those green eyes beat down every last ounce of resistance. He’d slay dragons for this woman, even battle gravity to keep her safe. The dragon-slaying would be easier.

  She rewarded him with a broad smile, warming his heart and heating his groin.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Derek shut his truck door and waited. Tyler screeched into the parking spot next to his and got out.

  “Hey, man. You ready to win on Sunday Night Football?” Tyler grinned, all brash confidence as he swaggered over to his cousin. “National TV. America is gonna see that we’re for real.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Derek grinned back. Right now, he straddled the top of the world, and no one could knock him off. Confidence hummed through him, leaving no doubt they’d win this one.

  “We’re gonna show the Bulls that there’s a new game in town. I don’t give a fuck if they’re eight and zero.”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna kick some Bull ass.”

  “No bull.” Tyler clapped him on the shoulder as they walked into the locker room together. “Where were you last night? Couldn’t get ahold of you.”

  Derek shrugged, not committing to shit. Tyler’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. He knew his cousin better than Derek knew himself.

  “Don’t think for a second I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is—”

  “Fuck it, I’m not stupid. I know you. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Whatever she’s doing, make sure she keeps doing it.” A group of cheerleaders piled out of a small car, and Tyler paused to watch them.

  “Looking for Cass?” Derek teased.

  “Hell no. Looking for the lucky girl I’m taking home tonight.”

  Derek knew Tyler’s bullshit when he heard it. “She’s happy, Ty. It’s probably time for you to move on.”

  “I have moved on. I spent the night with the Boducci twins.”

  “What happened to Barbie?”

  “She took me home, and I sent her on her way. She was boring. But the Boduccis… Holy shit. I had to kick them out about two thirty so I’d have enough energy for the game.”

  “Hope they didn’t wear you out.” Derek looked his cousin in the eye. Tyler was a lying bastard. Sadness and pain glimmered in his blue eyes before he masked it with his carefree asshole front. Shrugging, Derek followed his cousin into the building.

  “Know what? Driving here this afternoon, I heard cars honking at me. I assumed they were pissed at my driving, which happens all the time. Then I noticed some of them waving and gesturing—they weren’t flipping me the bird either.” Tyler grinned and entered the back door to the stadium. Nodding to the security guard, they walked down a long hall to the locker room.

  “Yeah, some kid asked for my autograph this morning when I was gassing up my truck. Pretty weird. We’ve been anonymous for so long.”

  “The team’s been anonymous because we’ve sucked for a decade and no one gave a shit. Last year our fans wore Washington potato sacks over their heads. We win this game, and they’ll take off the sacks and start noticing.”

  Derek nodded. A win would only make them four and four. Every win came against teams they had no business beating. Their fans were becoming believers. Tonight, they’d play to a sold-out stadium, the first sellout in years.

  The locker room buzzed with excitement and anticipation. A far cry from the silence of three weeks ago. Three convincing wins against good teams built confidence. Something special was happening here, and everyone felt it.

  HughJack chatted with an assistant inside the locker room door. Unusually relaxed and friendly, he smiled as the cousins strode inside. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope you came to play.”

  “Play? Hell! I’m kicking some ass!” Tyler faked dribbling down a court and went up for a quick layup. He pumped his fist in the air.

  “Wrong game, Harris,” HughJack reminded him.

  “For me, there’s no wrong game. I’m the best there ever was at any game.” Tyler strutted into the locker room, bowing and waving to imaginary fans while belting out his rendition of “We Are the Champions.” His teammates hooted and hollered.

  Derek smiled at HughJack. “You can’t fault his confidence.”

  “Confidence has never been his problem. Attitude has. Now he’s using it to his advantage in a positive way.”

  “Tyler just needs his energy channeled in the right direction.”

  “I’m trying, but the kid’s a tough one. High maintenance.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve known him since birth. Despite the selfish asshole act, he’d take a bullet for a friend and his team.”

  HughJack regarded him for a minute with expressionless eyes, then nodded. “I believe he would.”

  Derek’s gaze strayed when he caught sight of Rachel. Fatal mistake. HughJack’s eagle eyes followed his gaze. He studied Derek for a moment, cocked a brow, and without a word, walked off.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Starting as wide receiver on national TV should have scared the crap out of Derek. In the past, when he’d played on other teams, he’d warmed the bench during nationally televised games but never gotten any playing time. Despite the bright lights and the rowdy Seattle crowd, an unusual calm settled over him.

  Derek did his pregame stretches, sprinted up and down the field with his teammates, and paused to scan the sidelines for Rachel. He smiled when he spotted her. Rachel gave him a thumbs-up.

  Derek’s father and stepmother sat at the fifty, a few rows up from the field. His dad nodded at him. Even at a distance, pride shone in his father’s dark eyes. His stepmother, his biggest supporter, waved a small blue and green Steelheads flag and yelled louder than any fan in the stadium.

  Tyler swaggered up and down the sidelines. He’d been soaking up the limelight from the second he did the first pregame interview. Raising his hands over his head, he incited the crowd to a foot-st
omping, ear-splitting racket. Derek could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone understand his teammate’s words.

  He found himself next to Rachel as he was waiting to go onto the field. She gave him one of those looks he’d come to know meant kick ass and take no prisoners. Damn, but he adored this woman.

  “You can do this,” she said, raising her voice over the crowd to be heard.

  “I know I can. Thanks to you.”

  Her face flushed, and he forced his attention back to the field. It wouldn’t be unusual for a player to be talking to his coach, but he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention, not with the look HughJack had given him in the locker room.

  The Bulls kicked off to the Steelheads. Their rookie running back called for a fair catch. As they gathered in the huddle, Tyler leaned forward. His laser blue eyes pinned each man with a sharp, penetrating gaze. He was focused and intense, and determination radiated off his body. His iron will sucked them in. Gave them no leeway and took no prisoners.

  Turning, Tyler swept his hand downward to indicate to the crowd to quiet down. The rabid fans quieted to a decibel that would still cause permanent hearing loss, but at least they could hear in the huddle.

  Tyler led. His team followed. Within the first few plays, he transformed from a self-centered athlete into a team player. No more renegade, trying to do it all himself. Tyler ran the plays as called unless he read the defense differently. In that case, he’d audible while HughJack ranted on the sideline, but Tyler’s gambles paid off and deflated HughJack’s anger.

  Derek caught an uncatchable pass in the end zone. Even he was surprised when he saw the replay on the stadium big screen.

  Luck shone down on them, not that it wasn’t a battle until the very last second ticked off the clock.

  Their running game came alive. Bruce “Bruiser” Mackey pounded through the Bulls’ defensive line like running through whipped cream. Tyler threw with uncanny accuracy.

  In the end, they squeaked out a win and handed the Bulls their first loss. And then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 15—Safety Blitz

  If Derek could define an exact time when the Steelheads went from goats to heroes, league

  doormats to possible contenders, beating the Bulls would be it.

  Their popularity escalated like a snowball rolling down one of Mount Rainier’s glaciers. With each win, it gained momentum and size.

  Their fourth win exploded like an avalanche, happening fast and covering everything in its wake until it was so large it took on a life of its own.

  The underdog Steelheads, a perpetual rivals’ punching bag, scrapped their way onto the national sports media’s radar. The Cinderella team with the young, fiery coach, renegade quarterback, and ragtag mix of linemen, receivers, backs, and rejects captured the hearts of Seattle and the Pacific Northwest.

  For Derek, it started subtly. The barista at his favorite coffee spot complimented him on a well-played game. The bartender at his favorite hangout asked for an autographed picture to hang in the bar.

  It escalated as strangers recognized him and approached on the street or in a restaurant. Steelheads posters popped up in places he’d never seen them before. Blue and green dominated window displays and fan T-shirts.

  On a more personal level, his agent inundated him with promo opportunities and requests, especially charitable contributions in the form of his presence.

  Derek’s and Tyler’s evening workouts with Rachel shrank to one night a week, maybe two.

  The Steelheads capitalized on the ballooning popularity of the homegrown cousins and scheduled them for countless appearances. Heck, he and Tyler did a radio talk show once a week and a couple of appearances on local TV. A landslide of attention swept him down the mountainside. He hadn’t seen it coming and never would have estimated the brute force.

  Tyler, being Tyler, took it all in stride, as if it was his due. He basked in the glory and embraced the resulting chaos, relishing every minute of it.

  Derek wasn’t so comfortable. He found it hard to say no to all the people who suddenly wanted a piece of him.

  If he had been busy before, it didn’t compare to being a local celebrity, poised on the brink of being a national celebrity.

  He reeled from the impact and sought refuge from the chaos, a refuge only one person could give him—Rachel.

  Rachel, by and large, escaped the media frenzy surrounding the team, as the Steelheads billed her as a consultant. Female consultants, while somewhat rare in the league, weren’t exactly headlines either. For once, her temporary status with the team was to her advantage. She was spared the scrutiny the rest of them were subjected to.

  Having any kind of future with Rachel beyond tomorrow was becoming more and more impossible. Ironically, he was beginning to realize he wanted her in his life and how messed up the situation was.

  She was making a name for herself among the ranks of coaches and staff. Even if the Steelheads didn’t hire her, she’d have offers. Of that, he was sure.

  Either way, they were doomed. If she was hired by the Steelheads, they didn’t have a future. If she were hired by another team, they’d be separated by too many miles to maintain a relationship.

  If either of them were smart, they’d end this right now before it got any further, but he couldn’t do it, and obviously, neither could she.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rachel snatched a piece of pizza from the box in the middle of her dining room table. Her brother sat across from her, chewing thoughtfully on a piece. He hadn’t said much since he’d shown up late that evening with a pizza box in his hand. They talked football, about her team, about the high school team he coached, about their dad. He was holding something back, but you couldn’t rush Mitch. Eventually, he’d spill it, but for now, she’d have to be patient.

  “Dad and I never see you anymore,” Mitch remarked. His innocent comment packed a punch, and she waited for him to get to his point.

  “The team keeps me busy. I’m at work at seven a.m. or earlier and not home until ten or eleven at night.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he angled a glare at his sister meant to pierce the strongest defenses. “It’s more than that.”

  Rachel maneuvered away from the dining table so he couldn’t see her face clearly. “More than being busy, tired, and driven?”

  “You haven’t watched my team play in over a month.”

  “I’ll make it soon, I promise. We have a bye coming up, and—”

  “Who is it, Rachel? There’s more going on.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I know you. You’re hiding something. I can read you like a book.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” She grabbed her glass of wine and walked outside into the cool evening. Mitch followed her.

  Rachel grabbed Simon’s collar as he shot up the porch steps toward her brother.

  “What’s with that dog?” Mitch eyed the animal with suspicion.

  “You need to switch aftershave. Whatever you’re wearing attracts canine delinquents.” Simon strained against her hold on his collar and whined.

  “I saw Dad last night. At least he was half-sober, but it was early evening. I tried to talk to him about getting some help. He kicked my ass out of the house.” Pain filled Mitch’s green eyes. “Have you talked to Ramsey about him yet?”

  “No, I haven’t found the right time. It’s difficult considering the position I’m in with the team.”

  He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her like a man who had seen the light and couldn’t not see it. Something in the way she looked away or fidgeted gave her away. “You and Ramsey?”

  “There isn’t anything going on.”

  “Oh, man, Rae. You can’t do this to yourself. He’s your player. You’ll be fired.”

  “Mitch, I—”

  Mitch shook his head. “I don’t want to hear any more. I’m better off kept in the dark, but I swear to you, I’ll string him by his balls from the goalpost if he
hurts you again or causes you to lose your job.”

  “I don’t need my big brother to defend me anymore. I can take care of myself.

  “Obviously, you can’t, or you’d be making better decisions.”

  Rachel would have to concede that point.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rachel pulled back the curtain and gazed into the black night. She sighed and pressed her face against the cool window glass.

  She’d invited Derek to dinner. He’d called three times saying he was running late. Finally, he’d called one last time with apologies. Watching game tapes with the guys, he just couldn’t get away. She held out hope he still might make it, but it’d been a couple of hours.

  Disappointed, she opened her laptop and read through the materials from today’s lecture in her football management course. She couldn’t concentrate and closed the laptop. She was exhausted. The entire team was burning their candles at both ends, but the coaches’ hours were exceptionally brutal. She was out of her element. Boldness had never been her strong suit. She loved watching and evaluating, coming up with programs to improve a player, but coaching an offense or a group of offensive players was an entirely different ball game. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it and feared she wasn’t the right person for a coaching job. Her father would be so disappointed if she walked away from coaching.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven p.m. Tires crunched on the gravel driveway. Cass had moved out over the weekend and in with her new lover, so it couldn’t be her.

  Rachel peeked through the curtain. Tall and lean, often in motion with pent-up nervous energy, Derek stood on her porch, tapping his foot. He raised his hand to knock. She opened the door, kneeing Simon in the chest before he bowled her over and invited himself inside. Simon whimpered, and she saw that one of her leather gardening gloves hung out a corner of his mouth. Rachel lunged for the glove. Simon feinted left and bounded out of reach. Rachel grasped air, tripped over the doorjamb, and went down.