Chasing Jillian: A Love and Football Novel

by Julie Brannagh

  She pried one eye open and glanced up as she told herself to breathe.

  She’d lost thirty pounds.

  LATER THAT DAY, Jillian and Kari braved the rain to visit the local mall. Just like most women, Jillian was excited about getting some new clothes, but she was also worried about how much this trip was going to cost. She had a little extra money right now, but it didn’t mean she should go insane with it.

  Kari led her through the swinging double glass doors of Nordstrom without a second thought.

  “Come on. I can’t wait to see you pamper yourself a little, girlfriend. We’re going to dress up the new you. And then we’re getting a glass of wine to celebrate.”

  Kari looked like she wanted to do a little dance on the all-weather-carpeted mat right inside the front doors. Jillian was happy about the fact she’d lost weight, but Kari was beside herself with glee.

  “I’m just buying a few basics, Kari. I don’t want to spend a ton of money—”

  “You’re buying well-made clothes instead of cheap crap. Everything you get will last instead of falling apart the first time it goes through the washer.” Kari led her to the escalator that went to the women’s clothing departments. “And we’re getting you a new bra. You need something that fits correctly and shows off the girls.”

  “I was thinking a couple of pairs of pants and a few tops. Nothing crazy,” Jillian said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kari teased. “Let’s have some fun.”

  A tall older woman in an effortlessly stylish outfit approached them as they walked into the Point of View department. “How are you this evening?”

  “I’m fine,” Jillian said. “I need some tops and pants I can wear to the office. I’d prefer clothes that don’t need to be dry-cleaned.”

  “She needs a pair of jeans too,” Kari chimed in. “And some casual clothes.” Kari elbowed Jillian a little. “What if Seth asks you out? You’ll have nothing to wear!”

  “Do you mind?” Jillian said to Kari, but she had to laugh.

  “Nothing she owns fits her anymore,” Kari said.

  The saleswoman grinned at both of them. “Well, let’s get her some clothes that fit, shall we?”

  After a little questioning about Jillian’s favorite colors, how dressy or casual the office was, and how much she’d like to spend, she and Kari were on their way to the dressing room when Jillian spied a bright turquoise asymmetrical one-button fleece wrap cardigan on a mannequin. She typically wore dark colors or anything that didn’t draw attention to herself, but she wanted that bright, pretty cardigan.

  “I’d like to try that on too, please.”

  “Yes!” Kari said and fist-pumped the air.

  One hour later, the saleswoman had helped Jillian assemble several outfits that mixed and matched. Even better, she’d encouraged Jillian to try on a few things she would have avoided before—vivid colors; soft, clinging fabrics; and a bit sexier than her typical crew-necked long-sleeved sweaters and loosely fitting slacks. The saleswoman also helped Jillian find clothes she loved that wouldn’t blow a gaping hole in her savings account. Jillian was even fitted for a pretty new bra. Jillian’s new wardrobe was taken out to the check stand by another salesperson while the woman they’d been working with knocked on the dressing room door one more time.

  “I know you said you weren’t sure about buying a dress, but every woman needs a little black dress,” she said. “You can dress it up or down. Plus, this one’s on sale.”

  The dress was knee-length jersey with a scoop neck, long sleeves, and a gently flared skirt.

  “Try it on,” Kari said.

  “I’ve already spent so much money—”

  The saleswoman held it out to Jillian. “I’ll leave it with you. If you change your mind and want to try it on, it’s here.”

  “Don’t you still have some black heels at home?” Kari said.

  The fabric was so soft in Jillian’s hands. The shoes she already had would look great with it. She’d have something pretty to wear if she and Seth ever went out on a date that didn’t require athletic equipment or sweating.

  She pulled the dress off of the hanger. “Okay. I’ll try it on,” she said.

  Two days later, Jillian was wearing one of her new outfits as she arrived at the office—the pretty turquoise cardigan over a coordinating soft knit top and a pair of black dress pants. She’d even treated herself to a cute bangle bracelet. Even more than the new clothes, the happiness she saw when she looked in the mirror thrilled her. Her self-confidence was building.

  She was still trying to make a dent in the huge amount of work John had left for her. She’d shown up at the office this morning at seven o’clock; every effort she made on the list was interrupted by a ringing phone or yet more pleas for help from Seth’s teammates. She’d helped Tom, so obviously she was available to “help” every other guy on the team. Even more annoying, someone on the team managed to get her cell phone number, and he’d passed it around. The chiming of incoming texts was enough to make her want to bang her head on her desk. These guys didn’t need coaches. They needed a den mother—or ten!

  I NEED A RESERVATION SEASTAR @ 8 FRI NIGHT. A LITTLE HELP?

  WILL YOU GET AND MAIL MY LITTLE SIS A B-DAY GIFT? IT’S TOMORROW. SHE H8S GIFT CARDS.

  THE INTERIOR DESIGNER PICKED COLOR FOR LVNG RM THAT’S WACK. HERE’S HER NUMBER.

  If Seth was responsible for this, she was going to kill him.

  She opened another expense spreadsheet and tried to concentrate on reconciling it with the receipts she’d finally managed to pry away from John before he left again; the chime of yet another text on her phone sounded.

  EVAN’S BACHELOR PARTY NEEDS DANCERS. WILL YOU GET SOME FOR US?

  “That’s it,” she said and slapped her phone down on a pile of paperwork in the middle of her desk. One of the more interesting side effects of making a few lifestyle changes was self-preservation. She wanted the guys on the team to like her, but they didn’t get to push her around. She grabbed the receiver on her desk phone, hit the extension for the weight room phone, and waited for someone to pick up.

  A slightly out-of-breath voice answered. “Daffy Dan’s Pussy Par—”

  “This is Jillian, John’s assistant,” she said. “Who’s this?”

  “Morrison,” he said. He was the second-year offensive line player who spent most of his days tangling with Derrick Collins during practice. “What’s up?”

  “Who handed out my cell phone number? I don’t appreciate it.”

  All was silent on the other end of the line.

  “Clay? Are you still there?”

  Jillian heard Clay put his hand over the mouthpiece and muffled voices in the background. She waited for him to respond.

  “Uh, Jillian, we’re not sure—”

  “I’ll come in there and find out myself.”

  She hung up the phone and set her line to voice mail. This shouldn’t take longer than five minutes, and she could explain to John if he happened to call while she was away from her desk. She stalked off to the weight room. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at them; the team really needed to hire someone whose entire job was to babysit what could sometimes be grown men who still lived like college students. She didn’t mind helping them out once in a while, but she drew the line at obtaining “dancers” for a bachelor party.

  Jillian pushed through the glass door to the weight room. Twenty-five men had abandoned their lifting to form a knot in the middle of the room. They’d also managed to select a spokesman in the two minutes it took to get from her desk to the weight room door.

  Zach Anderson stepped forward and extended his hand to her. “Jillian, we didn’t mean to upset you. We apologize.” She saw his bashful grin. “We’ll quit driving you nuts.”

  “Yeah,” Clay said.

  “You do a lot for us, and we appreciate it,” Caleb said. Caleb was dating Zach’s youngest sister, Whitney. Jillian wasn’t surprised he was backing Zach up.

  “I still
need some help with a paint color. It looks like baby barf all over my living room! I’ll pay you,” Terrell said. He whipped a money clip out of his workout shorts pocket. After a glare from the twenty-four other guys, he put the cash away.

  “T, she’s not an interior designer.”

  “Taylor’s going to kick your asses if you keep bugging her,” Drew McCoy said.

  Jillian held up both hands. “Okay. Here’s my new policy. First of all, who decided to give the entire team my cell number?” She glanced around at a lot of foot-shuffling. They wouldn’t look at her. “Great. How would you feel if I gave out your cell numbers?”

  “Not cool.”

  “I’d be pissed.”

  “Don’t think about it, girl.”

  “All right, then.” She took a deep breath. Three months ago, she would have been running herself ragged to help them out because she wanted them to accept her. She knew enough about most of the guys on the team to know that if you gave them an inch, they’d take a mile. They didn’t respect anyone who didn’t stand up to them. She wanted their respect. “I like you all, but I’m not your mama, your sister, your girlfriend, or your wife. This is my workplace.” She let that one sink in for a minute or so. She glanced at Grant, the backup QB, who hadn’t looked at her since she walked into the weight room. “I respect your time and your privacy. You should respect mine too.”

  She glanced around to see twenty-four heads nodding in agreement. Grant didn’t nod.

  “Got it,” Derrick Collins said.

  “Absolutely,” Clay said.

  “Thank you, Miss Jillian,” Caleb told her.

  “I have to get back to work now. I’ll talk with all of you later,” she said and turned to leave the weight room. She heard the low murmur of male voices as she opened the door to the lobby.

  “I guess this means she’s not finding us some strippers for E’s bachelor party.”

  A COUPLE OF hours later, Jillian heard Seth’s voice behind her.

  “Hey. Let’s get out of here for the night.”

  “I still have to do my workout,” she said. She’d rather curl up on her apartment couch with a blanket, a good book, and CB, but it would be at least another hour before she could get some time to herself.

  “Sometimes it’s good to play hooky,” Seth told her. “Come on. I want you to see my house.”

  “There’s all this work—”

  “It’ll wait until tomorrow,” he said.

  Twenty minutes later, Seth turned onto a tree-lined street with rolling lawns and perfectly maintained landscaping that framed huge homes. She’d heard about this Bellevue neighborhood, but she’d never actually been here before.

  Seth pulled into one of the driveways, shut off the ignition, and turned to Jillian.

  “Is this your house?” she gasped.

  “Of course it is,” he said. She stared at him. “It’s just a house.”

  “Yeah, and my entire apartment probably fits in your broom closet.”

  “Laundry room.” He grinned at her. “Let’s go inside. You have a cell phone in case we get separated, right?”

  “You’re funny.”

  Seth’s house was framed by a lush, manicured front lawn. The landscaping was pristine. No weeds dared to grow in this yard. The exterior of the house was painted a shade that probably came straight out of a Starbucks cup—after all, it was the perfect shade of latte, with white trim framing multiple bay windows that sparkled in the sunlight. There was another pair of windows in the apartment over his three-car garage. She noticed blue-green shutters flanking the second-story windows. She realized her mouth was hanging open, and she shut it.

  “Just a house,” he repeated. He stepped up to the front porch that ran the length of the house and unlocked the front door. Jillian followed him inside.

  “Pee-Wee! Hey, brat. I’m home,” he called out and tossed his keys in a flat art-glass dish that sat on a wooden table against the wall in the entryway.

  Maybe Pee-Wee was a cat or something. Jillian was still staring. The floors were dark wide-plank hardwoods, polished to a high sheen. Unless she was really wrong, a decorator had left his or her stamp on his house, and Seth liked earth tones. There was a formal living room to the left of the front door, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by a sock monkey stuffed animal among the cushions on the old gold-colored, overstuffed couch. He saw her glance at the stuffed monkey. “Too damn stuffy,” he explained. “I put a pink flamingo in the yard when I moved in, but I got a fine from the Homeowners Association.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “I left it in the HOA president’s front yard with a note.” He continued down the hallway. “Come on. I’ll give you the big tour.” She glanced at a staircase broken by a landing featuring another huge window on her left. “Stairs to the second story. Half-bath is to your right. This is my favorite room. Well, other than my room.” The kitchen had glass-front cabinetry that complemented the floors. The walls were a warm light-cocoa color. The countertops were veined copper granite.

  Jillian could happily spend the rest of her life in this kitchen. He had two ovens, a center island that featured a wine refrigerator, plenty of room for pots and pans, a top-of-the-line refrigerator, and gas cooktop. A lower counter on the other side had a built-in computer desk. Even more beautiful than the kitchen design was the light that streamed through the house. Maybe you got better light when you spent a lot of money. She had to smile at the sight of one cookbook stored on the shelf over the counter.

  “Betty Crocker?”

  “My mom tried to teach me how to cook. Now I have a chef,” Seth said. “Gotta eat, don’t I?”

  She shook her head.

  Just beyond the kitchen of any woman’s dreams, a wooden table and four Bentwood chairs sat on a patterned wool rug. The family room beckoned. Part of Jillian expected an empty beer-can pyramid and a Shark Babes calendar, but his family room had leather couches, a hardwood coffee table, and a huge flat-screen television mounted on the wall neighboring the gas fireplace. She had to smile at the video-game controllers scattered over the tabletop.

  “The guys came over to play games last night.”

  Jillian heard footsteps rapidly approaching and turned to see a tall, slender, beautiful young woman with long, straight dark hair, a mischievous expression on her face, wearing a T-shirt that read “My life is a complicated drinking game.”

  “Hey, Pee-Wee, where ya been? I was yelling my head off down here.”

  “I was on the phone. And don’t call me Pee-Wee.”

  “Sure, you were.” Seth reached out to ruffle her hair. “Jillian, this is Lauren, my bratty kid sister. Be sure to call her Pee-Wee. She loves it.”

  Lauren gave her big brother a shove. “Hey, knock it off.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” Jillian assured her.

  “Lauren lives here when she’s not at her sorority house at the U. Then again, I think she’s here more than she is there,” Seth commented.

  “It was living with Mom and Dad or living here. You won, butthead.” Lauren seemed to have the same missing filter between her brain and her mouth that her brother did, but she was teasing him. She turned her attention to Jillian once more. “Have you gotten lost yet? This place is gigantic, isn’t it?”

  “It’s only four thousand square feet,” Seth said with a groan. “You act like it’s Bill Gates’s house.”

  “Seth has a chef,” Lauren confided. “He has a housecleaner. He even has a guy who does the yard, and he wonders why I didn’t want to live with my parents when I’m not at school.”

  “You wanted to stay here because you could wear rude T-shirts Mom hates. Plus, it doesn’t matter to me if you drink my beer, as long as you’re not driving. You want to hang out with your friends in the spa too.”

  Evidently, it was one long fight, but Jillian didn’t miss the easy affection between them. She felt the familiar stab of pain at the fact she had no
siblings to tease and talk with; no parents she loved, who loved her in return. She didn’t know what it was like to have shared experiences and memories with anyone but Kari. She was so grateful for Kari, but Kari had a family of her own. Jillian wanted that more than she wanted anything else in life—the opportunity to belong, even to just one person. To be loved and needed as part of her own family.

  “Speaking of the beer, you’re all out of Hefeweizen.”

  “Thanks for the update,” Seth told Lauren. “I suppose you’d know nothing about that.”

  “That’s right.” She beamed at him.

  “So, I’m trying to give Jill the tour, and then I might persuade her to have some dinner here. Would you like to join us?”

  “Where did you think I was eating?” Lauren said.

  “Well, I know that you’ve decided you’re a vegetarian now. We eat meat around here, missy.”

  “I eat fish,” Lauren informed him.

  “Oh, okay. What if I want a steak?”

  She made a huge face. “Eww!”

  “I’ll ask Owen to make you one of those vegetable gratin things he made the other day. Will that work?”

  “Fine.” She reached out and patted Jillian’s arm. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Lauren scampered away as quickly as she’d arrived, and Seth let out a sigh.

  “Someday, she’ll find a place of her own, and my life will be complete.”

  “Are you serious? Wouldn’t you be bored?”

  “Well, yeah. I’d miss her. Don’t tell her.” Seth took her elbow in his fingertips. “My chef will be here in an hour. Would you like to have dinner with us? Maybe I should have asked you first, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Sure. It would be fun.”

  “Great. We probably have some steak, and I’ll talk him into that vegetable gratin thing. It’s really good.” He moved through the kitchen to another staircase. “Want to see more of the house?”

  “I’d like that.”

  They arrived on the second floor. Lauren’s room was first, closest to the staircase. Jillian glanced through the open doorway to see her sprawled on her bed with her cell phone clutched to her ear, laughing at something someone was telling her. They walked away.