Death would definitely be worse.
And small town Texas had offered some pleasant diversions.
Like Sue Walker, a stacked brunette with a sassy tongue and wicked red lips.
To warm up the muscles, take his mind off Sue, and make sure he came in under the timeline, Max jogged back down the cool, dark hallway and hit the exit door, fingers crossed that Sue had given up on harassing him.
That made him imagine her tormenting some lucky fireman.
The irritation gave his easy jog more oomph and he held up his heavy watch to show Jack. “Nine minutes, thirty seconds.”
Jack eased up slowly, releasing the stretch for his calves, and drawled, “Good work. Do you want a cookie?”
“A cookie would hit the spot, but first, let me run you into the ground.” Max headed for the track around the football field and waited for Jack to fall in line beside him. They followed the normal pattern, and for forty minutes, the only noise was birdsong and shoes hitting the track. At the eight mile mark, they slowed.
“Are you going to the barbecue thing?” Max asked and immediately wanted to recall the words.
The thing about Jack Ford, though, was that he was a man of few words, too.
Instead of giving him grief about sounding like an insecure kid, Jack raised one eyebrow.
Max shook his head and decided to concentrate on keeping his leg in motion. The ache in his thigh had turned into a burning pinpoint. When they stopped, he’d need ibuprofen stat.
Either Jack had gotten up on the chatty side of the bed or he’d decided to contribute to the conversation, because eventually he said, “Gotta go. Makes Principal Mason happy and I need all the support I can get.”
The Lincoln Lions’ losing season had made Coach Ford a frequent target in the Lincoln Leader.
Max couldn’t imagine how much garbage Jack was dealt by boosters and disappointed parents.
“Why?” As they completed the ninth mile, Jack brushed his T-shirt sleeve over his forehead. “And why can’t we do this sometime when it’s not so damn hot?”
“Like, January?” Max shook his head. “It’s Texas, man. Get used to it.”
Jack grunted. “Are you going?”
Max almost smiled. “Yeah, I told Lindy I’d man the grill.”
He didn’t have long to wait.
“Intelligent bastard, aren’t you? All the brownie points, none of the socializing.” Jack squinted into the setting sun. “Wish I’d thought of it.”
“Strategy. That’s what it’s called. Always thinking ahead.”
“They taught you that in the police academy, I bet.” Jack grunted. “So, no date, then. Right?”
Max stumbled a bit and had to scramble to resume the pace. “Date? This is a date thing?”
“Most people bring their significant others.” Jack sighed. “Lindy’s postage-stamp backyard could do with a few less people, but apparently married couples like to spend ‘time’ together.” His air quotes were twice as funny. The gruff football coach usually let his whistle do all his talking.
Then Max realized he should have asked more questions before he agreed to go. Since he’d relocated to Lincoln, he’d been a hermit and happy that way. Saturday nights down at the Two Step might turn up some nice female companionship, but not of the “date for a work function” variety. He didn’t collect numbers, so unless he got lucky that Saturday night, he was on his own.
Then he imagined meeting Sue’s lucky fireman over flaming sausages and had to move fast to keep from stumbling.
“You tired? Ready to stop?” Jack glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll ace the physical test and you know it.” When they’d started running, Max had asked Jack to help him get back in shape. Training every day had made them friends, too, so Jack was the only one in on Max’s plan to take the police test in June.
Max snorted. “Nah. I’m good. Just thinking about…something.”
Jack studied his face. “Uh-huh. Something.”
They made another lap as the sun sank behind the high school.
“Last year, the single types gathered around the lemonade to commiserate,” Jack said.
“Great. You and me. And lemonade.” No icy kegs for a Lindy Mason party. The nonalcoholic egg nog at the Christmas party had nearly triggered his upchuck reflex. Some things needed alcohol.
“And Sue. She’ll keep the conversation lively.” Jack slowed down to a walk, both hands braced on his hips as he caught his breath.
“Not this year. She’s dating a fireman.” Or two. Maybe that’s why she’d come alone to the last party. It was too hard to pick between all the men she had dangling on a string.
“Oh, I doubt she’ll have a date for this. I don’t think she gets serious, and work functions are serious enough.” Jack sighed.
“Not serious? What makes you say that?” If she didn’t have a significant other, it had to be her decision. She was spoiled for choice.
As she should be. A woman like that would have her pick in men.
Jack shrugged. “When I asked her out, she made it clear that she didn’t go out with coworkers.”
Max stumbled to a dead stop, each pant harsh in his ears. Jack had made a run at Sue? For some reason, his own self-denial had convinced him everyone else had been hands off, too.
“You okay?” Jack immediately started stretching, the coach in him putting his body through the motions on autopilot. In order to appear unaffected, Max followed every move half a second behind.
“Ah, sure. I didn’t know you were interested in Sue.” He glared hard at the ground and ignored the hot burn in his thigh.
“I’m a man and I’m alive.” Jacks shoved Max off balance. “No shame in that, son.”
Max rubbed his shoulder and tried to form an answer that didn’t reveal how much time he’d spent thinking about her and how much brainpower he’d wasted trying to convince himself he wasn’t. Until his life was back on track in Dallas, women were a hobby, not an obsession.
The way he felt about Sue Walker when he hadn’t even kissed her lips convinced him that his safest plan was to stay far, far away from her.
That was fine. Her boldness made him nervous. A woman like that knew exactly her worth and woe to any man who tried to shortchange her.
Cops were pretty notorious for shortchanging their significant others. How his parents had made it to their fortieth wedding anniversary should be studied for science.
Jack propped hands on his hips. “Sue’s already got you.” He shook his head. “Listen, I never tried to change her no-men-from-work policy. Too much effort.”
But the reward would be spectacular.
Jack was watching him closely, so Max nodded. “We’ll stand behind the grill and frown at all the happy couples. Like two bachelors should. It’ll be fine.”
Jack snatched a towel off the fence and tossed it at him. “Meet at the Two Step later?”
Max wiped the sweat off his forehead and neck and tried to muster some enthusiasm for another night at the Two Step. The air conditioner was no match for Texas heat and the crowd of bodies. The women were pretty and the liquor was fine. Neither was enough to tempt him.
Spying on Sue and her date would be more fun. Possibly illegal and definitely weird, but the curiosity about the guy she’d be putting out fires with all weekend had to be shoved back into the hole it crawled out of.
“Tomorrow. I want to review the old information I have for the Dallas police officer test.” Max pulled his wet T-shirt away from his chest. “And soak up the AC.”
Jack pointed. “Change your mind and meet me there or I will talk such shit about you doing homework on Friday night.”
Max held up one hand and started the long walk to his car.
If that was a sample of the worst threat Jack could come up with, Max wasn’t too worried. Two older brothers, both cops, had given him tough skin. And he’d once been a rookie in the police academy. Trash-talking was an art form there. He’d been schooled by
some masters.
Listening to Sue give him hell might be fun. He had a hunch that no one could out-talk his girl Sue.
The one who didn’t date co-workers. The one he would definitely not be thinking about over the weekend or flirting with ever.
He wasn’t staying in Lincoln. She had her own plans for her life and no need for one more lovesick jerk trailing behind her.
Why didn’t that resolution make him feel better?
Chapter 3
“And that’s how the electoral college works,” Brady Tompkins said as he scooped up a beautiful twirl of spaghetti noodles. “Today, critics say it’s an impediment to true democracy, but the founding fathers intended it as another check against the concentration of power. Having the states choose the president was another attempt to prevent the tyranny of any one group.” In went the fork, the noodles disappeared, and Sue had a minute to enjoy the pleasures of ambient noise.
And to regret ever mentioning the Texas governor who’d declared he was running for president.
Politics. Religion. Money. She knew better than to get tangled up in these on a date, but Brady didn’t read. Their pop culture tastes didn’t overlap. And he’d lived in Lincoln his whole life, so asking about where he grew up had led to a pretty short discussion. Her house was the next street over.
Short of monopolizing the conversation by talking about herself and things that interested her, current events had been her last option.
She’d cleared her plate while she’d listened to him lecture, so at least the end was nigh.
“Sorry. I like politics.” Brady wiped his mouth with his napkin and folded it beside his plate. Her father would find his table manners acceptable. “Sometimes I forget not everyone does.”
There was no sense in lying. “I like to listen to people talk about their passions.” Sue finished off her excellent wine. “But sometimes it’s like a foreign language.”
“And boring, too.” Brady made scribbling motions to the waiter who was watching them from across the room. The mood lighting was perfect for romantic encounters. Too bad this dinner had not been one of those. “I was nearly certain I’d blown it last night by theorizing on the rise of a third political party.” He sighed. “But you said yes to another date. And I was seduced by that beautiful smile. Two dull dates? How can we ignore the evidence?”
Neither one of them wanted to waste time. She appreciated that about Brady. “We don’t have anything in common.” Sue shrugged. “We both look good in profile pictures, though.”
“And we’re brave enough to meet in person instead of emailing back and forth to discover our complete lack of chemistry.” Brady dropped his credit card on the tray the waiter offered. “I’m not sure what that says about us.”
Sue folded her napkin precisely. “We’re efficient. Email is no real indicator of attraction. And we’re open-minded. You asked me out even though I said my political affiliation was anarchy.”
Brady laughed. “Yeah. You never know if you don’t try.”
“On that, we perfectly agree.” Sue fiddled with her table knife as she watched him sign the check. “Thank you for dinner, Brady. I did enjoy it.”
He stood and held her sweater for her as she slipped her arms inside. Good manners again.
At the prospect of another date ending with her going home alone, Sue wondered why a hot body, kind disposition, rabid civic duty, and good manners couldn’t be enough.
When they reached her car, Sue hugged his neck, the regret an ache in her side as she ran her hand down his arm.
“Please text me to let me know you made it home safely.” Brady opened her car door and waited for her to slide inside.
Sue held her hand up to wave and backed out of the spot. He was watching her as she drove away.
At the first stoplight, Sue rested her forehead on the steering wheel. What was wrong with her? So many dates. And they were all perfectly fine. Her father would love Brady, and that would be enough approval for her mother to start drawing up a guest list for reception of at least two hundred.
All she could imagine was staring glassy-eyed into the distance while Brady explained gerrymandering. They’d made the right decision. There was a political wonk out there pining for a hot fireman with a love of democratic process.
A honk behind her got her moving again. “Back to the online profile pool. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that.” Lincoln’s small downtown was quiet as she passed through.
Probably because everyone was already at the Two Step. Except for her. And Brady. And the jerk behind her with the headlights.
Loud music, cold beer. Maybe that was what this Saturday night needed to turn it around.
She wasn’t dressed for line dancing or flirting with cowboys, but most of the people in the Two Step were suburbanites ready to cut loose after long weeks of yuppie striving.
So, like her, basically. Her short ruffled skirt would pass muster, but cowboy boots would have been nice.
After she parked, Sue pulled out her phone to text Brady that she’d made a stop but she appreciated his thoughtfulness. Then she touched up her lipstick, slid out of the car, and jumped headfirst into the swirl of noise inside. One quick round turned up two ex-boyfriends, at least five former dates, and three coworkers who waved her over to their crowded booth.
It was nice to have options.
This was one of the times she wasn’t satisfied with any of them. The bartender slid her beer across the bar, and Sue pointed at the door to the deck. If the girls wanted to talk, they’d have a much better shot outside on the deck overlooking the river. Some places had beer gardens. The Two Step had a large outdoor area with a small bar and big view of the lake that drew tourists like the deck drew romantic couples desiring some space to whisper sweet nothings.
Just her and the couples.
And one guy seated alone on the farthest point of the deck who looked a lot like Max Holt.
Her eyes were good. Maybe the shadows were deceiving her. She didn’t spend much time at the Two Step, but it didn’t seem like his kind of place. This quiet deck might, though.
“Come here often?” she asked as she slid into the seat across from him completely uninvited.
If this guy wasn’t Max Holt, he might be a close enough approximation for…something.
At his grunt, she knew she was dealing with the real deal.
“Often enough.” Max crossed the legs he had had braced on the wooden railing and sipped his beer. “Fireman fizzle out?”
Sue slipped off the high heels that made her strut like an underwear model and copied his relaxed pose. No matter how this night ended, talking with Max would be fun.
“Well,” Sue said and tipped her head back to study the stars, “let me ask you this. How much do you know about the electoral college?”
She turned her head to watch him process that and had to stifle the smile.
This is going to be good.
Eventually, he shook his head. “Not a damn thing. And if that’s the reason you came over, you can keep right on moving. That seat’s taken.”
“And if I don’t want to talk about the electoral college? Can I stay?” Sue nudged his foot with hers and grabbed the edge of her skirt as it inched down her thigh.
Max turned to meet her stare head-on. “Do we have to talk at all?” He wrapped his hand around the hand holding her skirt up and nudged one finger under the hem. His finger was touching the bare skin of her thigh.
Hot, hot, hot. When had it gotten so hot?
A flirty response that made it clear that she knew he didn’t mean what she thought he might mean would be good. Her mouth was too dry to string words together. When he let her loose by turning to drink his beer, she did the same.
“Well, now. This is interesting.” Sue cleared her throat. “I was prepared to tell you all about my date.”
“You did that in two words—electoral college.” Max’s dry tone surprised a laugh out of her, made it easier to get her head on stra
ight again.
“Yeah, it does capture the evening succinctly. Good spaghetti, though.” Sue twisted the cold beer in her hand, afraid to wiggle the fingers in her right hand.
Then she did some quick calculations. In the year Max Holt had worked at Lincoln, she’d been on roughly thirty dates with less spark than the last ten minutes.
“You realize you’re still holding my hand, don’t you?” Sue squeezed his fingers.
“I don’t trust you to keep that skirt in place.” Max leaned back. “And I’m not school-day strong tonight. I might fall for your teasing.”
“You think I’m a tease?” She probably was but it was important to take a stand. Sue tried to untangle their fingers, but he held on and somehow managed to keep her skirt in place at the same time. Damn it.
“A tease? Definitely, but in the best way.”
Max studied the dark lake as if something interesting was going on, but Sue refused to look away until he turned his head. Then she narrowed her eyes. “There’s a good way to be a tease?”
“Our daily interactions are about the best thing about working at Lincoln High, so I’d have to say yes.”
That was it. Max stretched in his seat, done with what he had to say and completely content to stare out into the darkness.
Meanwhile, she was gripping the iron armrest of her chair so hard she thought she her knuckles creaked.
“How many beers have you had to drink?” That was the logical explanation. Max Holt couldn’t hold his beer.
His chuckle melted her failing defenses further. In this corner of the shadowed deck, they might have been the last people in the world. His voice, his laugh, that single finger edged under the hem of her skirt… The wise, nonnegotiable rule she had about avoiding romantic encounters with coworkers was entirely too flimsy to stand under this assault.
She should go.
In a minute.
“Two beers. I’m nowhere near drunk enough to let my inhibitions fall,” Max said.
Sue straightened in her chair and crossed her legs. There was no need to hold the edge of that skirt for modesty’s sake. He could move his hand.
But he didn’t.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 193