Love at the 20-Yard Line

by Shanna Hatfield

  The morning passed quickly and he was soon on his way to Haven’s office to pick her up. In his haste to see her, he’d left earlier than he needed to. He sat parked down the street for ten minutes because he didn’t want to seem too eager. At five minutes before eleven, he parked his truck in a space close to the door and walked inside.

  A young woman glanced his way then looked again, staring openly at him as he stood by her desk.

  “I’m here to see Miss Haggarty,” he said, smiling at the girl as she sat unmoving, blinking her eyes at him like she was trying to decide if he was real. When she continued to stare, he repeated his statement. “I’m here to see Miss Haggarty. Could you please let her know Brody Jackson is here?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Jackson,” the girl finally said, pushing a button on her phone then quietly stating Haven had a visitor.

  “She’ll be right out, sir. You may have a seat if you like.” The girl pointed to a set of chairs and a sofa across from her desk.

  “I’ll stand, thanks.” He stepped near a window and looked outside. The office was located in a newer commercial area surrounded by well-maintained businesses. From all the brown grass and empty planter boxes, he assumed it was probably pretty in the spring when flowers bloomed and everything was green.

  “Brody, you didn’t need to come pick me up. I could have met you.” Haven hurried toward him with a smile that brought out her dimples. She already had on her coat and carried a large bag instead of a purse. “Shall we go?”

  “You bet, doll.” Brody grinned as he held the door for her. Politely nodding to the receptionist, he noticed she watched them open-mouthed as he escorted Haven outside.

  “Is your receptionist always so helpful?” Holding the pickup door open, he gave Haven a hand as she climbed up in her skirt and heels. It was a lot easier in her jeans the other night.

  Haven laughed and Brody stood gazing at her dimples, loving the way her smile lit up her face. “Usually she’s very good, but alarmingly handsome men tend to distract her. We’ve had that problem a few times before.”

  “So next time, I’ll just honk and not bother to come in,” Brody teased as he pulled out on the street and headed to a restaurant not far from Haven’s office. He wanted to have as much time with her as possible and the restaurant nearby seemed like a good choice.

  “My boss would not love that. Besides, who says there’ll be a next time?” The teasing light in her eyes gave away the fact she was kidding. The sight of Brody in broad daylight did funny things to her ability to think, especially with an entire swarm of butterflies bursting into a frenzied flight in her stomach. With the way she felt, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat any lunch.

  Brody was good-looking in his football uniform. In his casual shirt and jeans the other night he’d been quite handsome. Today, in a nice button down shirt with a sports jacket, jeans, and cowboy boots, he looked gorgeous and rugged.

  Haven had to remind herself this was a business lunch, not a date, even though she wished he was interested in her personally. Convinced he was going to kiss her Saturday night, she’d experienced acute disappointment when all he’d done was squeeze her hand and leave her at the door.

  She knew she was naïve, but she was sure there was some little spark of interest between the two of them. When their hands touched, she thought he felt something too. Apparently, it had been her own wishes making her fanciful.

  Brody parked in front of a restaurant and she smiled at his choice. It was one of her preferred places to meet clients and the food was always good.

  He rushed around the pickup and offered her his hand as she got out of the truck.

  The sizzle from Saturday night returned, sending currents dancing up her arm. She ignored it and marched down the walk to the door. When they walked inside, the staff greeted Haven by name, a fact that surprised Brody.

  “Do you have a reservation, Miss Haggarty?”

  “No, Danielle. I don’t today.” Haven offered Brody a questioning glance.

  “But I do,” he said, taking a step closer to the host station. “Brody Jackson.”

  “We’ve got you right here, Mr. Jackson. Right this way, please.”

  Seated at one of Haven’s favorite tables overlooking the river, Brody smiled at her in a way that made her fidgety and uneasy.

  The server’s arrival pulled Haven out of his entrancing gaze. She spent the next several minutes pretending to study the menu. When the server reappeared with glasses of water and took their orders, she left Haven with nothing to distract her from the extreme appeal of Brody Jackson, local football star.

  She wasn’t one who cared to watch sports on the news, but she’d sat glued to the television when the sportscaster showed a clip of Brody catching a pass at Saturday’s game. Watching him on the news confirmed she hadn’t imagined how good he looked in his uniform.

  In need of something to draw her attention away from his perfect face, she took a notebook and pen out of her bag and placed them in front of her.

  “You mentioned an interest in modeling. Is that correct?” Haven asked, prepared to take notes about the types of projects that attracted Brody.

  “I did mention I wanted to discuss it,” Brody admitted sheepishly.

  Puzzled, Haven stared at him as he reached across the table and took her hand in his. Although it made his thoughts jumble, he entirely liked the feel of her hand in his. Far more than he should.

  “What I wanted to discuss is that I won’t be able to model for you.”

  “You won’t?” Haven asked, confused. She was certain when Brody called to invite her to lunch, he indicated an interest in modeling. As she replayed the conversation in her mind, she recalled him saying he wanted to discuss it, which is what they were doing.

  “No. Not with my football contract.” Brody experienced a moment of guilt at the look of distrust and disappointment on Haven’s face. She attempted to tug her hand away from his, but he held on, rubbing his thumb across her palm soothingly. The movement must have worked because she didn’t try to yank it away from him again.

  “Why did you lead me to believe otherwise? Why did you bring me here?” Haven eyed him speculatively. “I’m beginning to think you coerced me into meeting you under false pretenses.”

  Brody knew it was time for a confession. “I’m sorry for misleading you, but I figured if I called and asked you on a date, you’d tell me no. I was pretty sure if I called and you thought it was business, you’d agree to meet.”

  “Trickery, subterfuge, and manipulating the truth. My, my, Mr. Jackson, this doesn’t bode well for you.” Haven removed her hand from Brody’s as the server arrived with their orders. After the girl left them to their meal, Haven looked from her salad to Brody, shaking her head.

  She should be angry with him. She should tell him what she thought of his devious behavior. She should order him to stay far away from her and never call her again.

  But she couldn’t.

  Flattered by the amount of effort he went to just to have lunch with her, a little voice in her head whispered that maybe Brody Jackson was as interested in her as she was in him.

  “I’m sorry, Haven. I promise I won’t do that again, but I just wanted to see you,” Brody confided despite the embarrassment it caused him. If she didn’t smile soon or let him know she wasn’t mad, he might end up on his knees, groveling. “I enjoyed talking with you the other night and just wanted an opportunity to get to know you better.”

  “I see.” She turned her attention to from Brody to her salad. Although she wasn’t upset with him, he didn’t necessarily need to know that, yet.

  They ate their meal in silence. Brody felt like squirming in his chair when Haven leveled her gaze at him. She looked like a stern teacher and he felt like a misbehaving schoolboy, about to receive a tongue-lashing.

  “Well?” she finally asked, sitting back and crossing her arms in front of her.

  He didn’t know how she did it, but he swore she used those glasse
s to look intimidating and formidable.

  Brody was a grown man who let other grown men tackle him for a living, yet this sweet girl was about to make him break out in a cold sweat.

  “Well, what?” he asked, using a napkin to dab at his suddenly perspiring forehead.

  “You said you wanted to talk, so what was so important that you had to trick me into meeting you here?” Haven stared into his face. She had to fight to keep a smile from breaking out of hiding, so she practiced the unyielding glare she used at work when the staff told her something couldn’t be done. Amazingly, the glare enabled all sorts of impossible things to become possible.

  With her delicate fragrance surrounding him, Brody could barely remember his name, let alone anything remotely close to witty conversation. Frantically searching for any topic to discuss, he remembered she had brothers. He cleared his throat, trying not to cringe beneath the fierce look she sent his direction.

  “Tell me about your brothers. You said you had three, but you only mentioned two. What about the third brother?”

  Haven took a sip of her water before answering Brody’s question.

  “My brothers are all older than me. Wes is the oldest and married to Tammy. They have two little boys who are holy terrors and take after their father. I feel sorry for my sister-in-law being the only female in that house, but she doesn’t let them get to her, at least too often.”

  Brody chuckled and she continued.

  “You met Tom the other night. He’s only a year older than I am, and the most obnoxious of the three. Actually, he and Wes are a lot alike. Wes works with Dad on the family farm. Tom is a licensed realtor. He’s a good salesman, even if he is a pest of a brother. Hale was the mad chemist of the family and he’s now a pharmacist.” Haven dropped her voice to a whisper. “And if you can keep a secret, I’ll even admit he’s my favorite brother. He and I always got along really well.”

  Brody leaned forward, bringing his face so close to hers, he could see flecks of light and dark blue dancing in those luminous eyes behind her glasses. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good.” Haven sat back in her chair. She felt the need to keep a little distance from Brody because the desire to kiss him nearly got the best of her when he leaned across the table. His eyes were dark and rich, and he smelled so good, it made her feel lightheaded.

  “You know, the other night I thought your brothers were twins until I was standing next to you and could see there was some age difference there,” Brody admitted. He refrained from telling her he thought she was dating one of them.

  “People often mistake the three of them for triplets from a distance. They all look so much alike. They get their coloring from my mom.”

  “So, do you take after your dad?”

  Haven smiled. “Only my eye color. No one seems to know where this mop of hair came from.”

  Unable to stop himself, Brody reached out and captured one of the curls that escaped the bun at the back of her head and rubbed it between his fingers. The silky strands were even softer than he imagined.

  When Haven shifted uncomfortably in her chair, he released the springy coil and dropped his hand to his lap.

  “What about you?” she asked, wanting to know more about the man who’d tricked her into having lunch with him. “Do you have any siblings?”

  “Nope.” Brody took a long drink from his glass.

  “Where do your parents live? Where are you from?” Haven had heard many of the football players lived in town just for the season, returning to their homes for the remainder of the year.

  “My mom raised me in a little town back in Kansas. She still lives there,” Brody said.

  “What about your dad?”

  Angry sparks flickered in his eyes at the mention of his father. “He took off before I was born. He married my mom, Angelina, when they were both young and stupid. She got pregnant with me right away and that’s when he left. She never saw or heard from him again and doesn’t even know if he’s alive or dead.”

  That was more information about himself than he’d shared with anyone other than Marcus. No matter what he did right or wrong in his lifetime, he’d never abandon a wife or child the way his father had.

  His mother worked so hard, struggling to raise him as a single parent. He wouldn’t ever put someone through that.

  “I’m so sorry, Brody,” Haven said, placing her hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. He lifted his gaze and took in the moisture gathering in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was her pity, so he changed the subject.

  “Tell me again what you do for a living. I get the idea you’re pretty hoity-toity for someone barely out of school,” Brody said, knowing that would distract her.

  “I’ll have you know I’m almost twenty-six. I graduated from college when I was twenty.” Brody’s comments made her defensive. People often assumed her age combined with her blond hair meant she was either unintelligent or incapable in her job. “I’ve been working for Mr. Young since then. Since his company is fairly new compared to some, he has a relatively young staff.”

  “I see.” Brody hid his smile behind his glass. “What do you do?”

  “I’m an image consultant and brand analyst.”

  Brody tried to figure out what that meant, exactly, and gave her a questioning look.

  “We work with companies who want to rebrand themselves, need a new corporate image, or want to tweak certain areas of their marketing and publicity strategy. We do everything from creating logos and designing websites to brand positioning and ad campaigns.”

  “I don’t even know what half that means, but it sounds impressive.” Brody rested his arms on the table, studying Haven’s animated face. Suddenly, he wondered what she’d look like without glasses. They complemented her serious, professional demeanor, but without them on he’d bet her eyes would look even bigger and more alluring.

  Haven reached down and pulled an iPad out of her bag. She tapped the screen a few times, scooted Brody’s empty plate out of the way, and placed the tablet in front of him.

  “This is a project we just finished for one of our clients.” She showed him what the client’s logo, website, and advertisements looked like before she worked with them and what they looked like now. The difference was remarkable and Brody could see she excelled at her job.

  “So what do you do specifically with something like this?” he asked, still not sure what her job entailed.

  “For this project, I met with the company president, discussed what they wanted to accomplish, reviewed what they were doing, and made suggestions on what could work better. I took my ideas and the company objectives to our design teams and we met, brainstormed what we wanted to do, then got to work. I oversee the development of the specific components, although I don’t do the creative work myself.”

  “Basically, you schmooze clients, come up with the ideas, and crack the whip to make them happen.” Brody boiled Haven’s job down to one straightforward statement.

  “That’s an accurate assessment.” Haven nodded her head in agreement. “Now tell me about your job.”

  “You know what I do. I catch the ball and run. Sometimes I tackle or block. That’s about it,” Brody said, simplifying his career.

  “I know a little about football from having three brothers. You’re a wide receiver. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And from what I’ve seen and heard, you’re a really good one. How in the world do you jump so high?”

  “It’s just something I was always good at. Jumping and catching things thrown at me.” Those two talents had been useful when he was a scrawny kid trying to get away from the bullies that hounded him after school.

  “What’s the highest you’ve ever jumped?”

  “On the field, during a game, right at forty inches. But I’ve jumped a lot higher than that before. Once I even jumped over a backyard fence, but I had a good running start.”

  “Oh, my gosh! That is amazing!” Haven couldn�
��t imagine jumping that high. “The highest I ever jumped was the time Tommy dumped a mouse down the back of my shirt.”

  Brody laughed and Haven smiled.

  “No wonder Hale’s your favorite.” Brody winked and gave her a teasing grin.

  “Shh. I told you that’s a secret.” She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. The impact of that innocent touch left them both reeling as Haven snatched her hand back and placed it on her lap.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” Glancing at his watch, Brody realized they’d been at the restaurant for more than an hour. He assumed he’d probably kept Haven away from work longer than he should have.

  He set his napkin on the table and looked around for the server so he could pay the bill. While he waited to catch her eye, he apologized to Haven. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time. I hope I’m not making you late for your next appointment.”

  After glancing at her watch, Haven shook her head. “I’ve got plenty of time. No apology necessary, except maybe for leading me here under false pretenses. Care to explain what that’s all about?”

  “Let’s just say I was convinced you wouldn’t meet me here any other way and leave it at that. I’m sorry, Haven, really I am. But I’m not sorry you came or that we had the chance to visit for a while. I like talking to you.”

  “I like talking to you, too,” she said, deciding to be bold and brave. “Next time, just ask if I want to have lunch with you instead of inventing some pathetic story.”

  “It wasn’t pathetic,” Brody said, pretending to be offended. “It got you to come and it wasn’t a story. We did discuss modeling. We discussed how I won’t be doing it.”

  “Technically, but still…”

  Haven quieted as the server approached with the bill. Brody took it before she could protest.

  “I can pay for my half.” Haven fished in her bag for her wallet.

  “No. I invited you and I’m buying.” Brody wished he could spend the afternoon with Haven, but he needed to get going and she had to return to work.

  He stood and held Haven’s coat for her, inhaling the tantalizing fragrance of her perfume as she slid her arms into the sleeves.