Homecoming King

by Jami Albright

“Nothing.” His lips are sticking out like they do when he’s lying.

  He tries to move past me, but I stop him with a hand to his arm. “What’s going on, Brad?”

  “I said, nothing.”

  “You’re lying.”

  His hands go to his waist. “Fine, if you must know, Elva and I have come to an agreement. She’s selling the land the rec center sits on to the city tomorrow. I’m having the papers drawn up now.”

  That can’t be. Especially not after we did all that work for her. Crap, why did I talk Cash out of having the conversation with her? “She said she hadn’t made up her mind yet.” I wish I sounded more confident, but honestly, I don’t know what to think.

  “Well, she’s made up her mind now.” His stance is as defensive as his tone.

  “What did you promise her, Brad?”

  “Nothing.”

  He tries to walk past me again, but I step into his path. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Ask her yourself.” His phone appears in his hand. “She’ll tell you the same thing I am.”

  I hike my purse higher on my shoulder and step around him. “I think I’ll go to her house and have her tell me to my face.”

  He tries to stop me, but I fake to the left, then move to get around him. I hear a muttered curse as I get to my car. I see a streak of gray suit flash by as Brad runs to his car.

  Key in the ignition, I’m out of my parking spot before he’s entered his vehicle. That weasel. He’s promised poor Elva something he has no intention of delivering on. I just know it.

  I want to speed, but my conscience won’t let me. Good thing Mayor Watson has the same conviction, or he would’ve beaten me there by a mile. As it is, we arrive at the same time. I jump from the car and sprint to the front door. He has athleticism and a Y chromosome on his side, and he beats me to our destination.

  He barges into Elva’s house without knocking, and I follow, good manners be damned. The smell of garlic and bread hits my nose before I have time to figure out what’s happening.

  “Elva!” Brad yells.

  “Back here.”

  Maxine steps into the entryway, and we both nearly knock her to the ground as we run past her to the kitchen.

  I grab the weasel’s suit coat and maneuver in front of him so that I enter the room first, then come to a screeching halt so fast that Brad runs into me, sending me sprawling onto the large farm-style table.

  “Oh, my word,” Elva says from her seat at the head of the table.

  I notice two things at once. One, Kayla Jensen and the Twinkies are sitting with Elva working on a color by number poster board, and two, Cash King is standing at the stove in an apron and a sexy-as-hell grin.

  “Glad you could join us.” He’s holding a wooden spoon and standing over a pot of something that smells delicious.

  “Cash?”

  “King, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Ohhhh,” the Twinkies say in unison and cover their mouths with their hands.

  “He swore,” Misty says.

  “That’s a dollar in the cussing jar.” Marci shakes her head regretfully and glances around the room. She holds out her hand. “Since Miss Elva doesn’t have a swear jar, I’ll keep the money.”

  Cash laughs and ruffles her hair. “What a con.”

  She smiles up at him with both of her front teeth missing. “I had to try.”

  Elva and Cash both laugh.

  “What is going on here?” Brad demands.

  “Why, dinner, darlin’.” Elva says it like Brad is an alien and she’s teaching him our earthly ways.

  “I can see that, but why are he and these children here?” He waves his hand, then hears a couple of whoops from the backyard. “Are there more?”

  “Oh, yes, Jared and Cam are playing with Rocco to give him a little exercise.”

  I move to the back door, concerned. Rocco is a hundred and one, if he’s a day. The dog is not up for the kind of roughhousing I know Jared and Cam are capable of. I nearly bust a gut when I see both boys running around trying to coax Rocco to do anything but lie with his eyes closed in the middle of the yard. Frankly, I have no idea how he made it to the middle of the yard.

  “Why are you two here?” Elva asks. “Not that I’m not grateful for the company, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Oh, um …”

  Because I’m trying to get you to not sell the land to my conniving ex-husband doesn’t seem to hit the right chord.

  “Excuse me.” Brad pulls on the seat that Kayla is occupying next to Elva.

  “Excuse you,” Kayla says with all the attitude of a hormonal twelve-year-old girl.

  “I would like this seat, if you’ll kindly move.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Listen, kid, this is grown-up business, so leave.”

  “Brad! That’s appalling behavior. You need to apologize to Kayla.” I put as much reprimand in my voice as possible.

  “What? I’m not apologizing to a rude kid.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen, Elva, I told Tiger you’d agreed to sell the land the rec center sits on to me. She got upset and rushed over here in a futile attempt to get you to change your mind.”

  Elva turns concerned eyes to mine. “Oh, darlin’, I’m afraid you wasted a trip, but you’re both welcome to stay for supper.” She glances at Cash, who’s smiling like my world hasn’t just come crashing in on me. “We have enough, don’t we, Cash?”

  “More than enough.”

  I ignore him and kneel in front of Elva. “But you said you’d continue with the lease on the land as agreed.”

  She pats my clammy face. “I’m sorry, Tiger, but it will be better in the long run if I sell the land. Cash helped me see that it’s a lot to take care of, and it would be better to have it off my plate.”

  I whirl around on Cash and spear him with a look so vicious I’m surprised his skin doesn’t melt away. “How could you?”

  A hand lands on my shoulder. Brad. “I know you’re disappointed, Tiger, but it’s the best thing for the town. The resort will create hundreds of jobs for the citizens of Ryder.”

  “Oh,” Elva chuckles. “I guess you don’t know. No, how could you?”

  “Know what?” Brad asks.

  “I’m going to sell to Cash. Can you believe he showed up here and offered me twice what you did, and he was nice enough to have the papers emailed to me, so it’s a done deal.” She motions around the room. “This is our celebration dinner.” She gives Brad a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor, I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

  “You … you … What?”

  “I’ve sold the land to Cash here.”

  I have to hold onto Elva’s chair to keep from tipping over. I glance at the millionaire quarterback, and he winks.

  Good Lord.

  “Elva, you can’t mean it.” Brad’s practically begging.

  “I’m sorry, Mayor, but I do.” She runs her hand down Kayla’s head. “How can I take away the place these kids have to congregate and learn? I won’t do it.”

  “Surely there’s something I can do to change your mind.” Brad begins pacing the kitchen. “I’ll triple my offer.”

  “She’s already signed the papers, Watson.” Cash steps in his path. “It’s over.” The quarterback shakes his head. “That always was the problem with you, never could get across the finish line.”

  “You … You’ll hear from my lawyer tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it. Now, are you staying for dinner or not?”

  Brad jerks his suit into place and straightens his tie. “No.” Then he turns and storms out of the house.

  I still haven’t spoken, but tears are spilling over my eyelids. “Thank you,” I say to the room at large. I don’t know if I’m thanking Cash, Elva, or God—probably all three.

  “Well that was more fun than I’ve had in a while.” Cash is grinning like a raccoon in a bin full of garbage.

  I point my finger and try to appea
r stern, but it’s impossible with how awed I am by this man. “You’re bad.”

  “You have no idea.” Perfectly white teeth sparkle behind open, upturned lips that I know have sold a gazillion sneakers.

  Okay, now I’m totally turned on with Elva, Kayla, and the Twinkies sitting next to me.

  Awkward.

  “Miss Tiger, do you want to color with us?” one of the Twinkies asks.

  Without looking away from Cash, I say, “In a minute, Marci. I need to speak with Cash first.”

  “Coach Cash,” Kayla interjects.

  “Pardon?”

  “He told us to call him Coach Cash.”

  “That’s right,” he says and holds out his fist. Kayla bumps it with her own. “And this kid is one of my best athletes.”

  The girl’s hazel eyes gleam against her light brown skin. “Really?”

  “Are you kidding me? You showed those boys how it was done today.”

  The poof of her ponytail bobs as she ducks her head, but not before I see the pink stains on her cheeks. “Thanks.”

  My gaze finds Cash, and a million things are in the look he’s giving me.

  “I … um … I told the kids that I’d help them with some drills during the afterschool program. I hope that’s alright.”

  I shake my head because I can’t possibly have heard him correctly. “You told them …”

  “That I’d run some drills with them after school.” He turns back to the spaghetti sauce and stirs.

  I move to stand next to him at the stove and place my hand on his shoulder. “Why?”

  A quick glance over his shoulder at the girls and Elva, then he lowers his voice. “That Jared kid has a ton of potential, but his dad’s convinced him that he’s better than everyone else and always will be. I told him his size will only work for him for so long and that he needs to work on his footwork and some other basic skills.” He rubs the side of his jaw with the back of his hand. “He kind of challenged me, and I can’t resist a challenge.”

  “For how long?” I search his face for something, but I’m not sure what it is.

  “A couple of hours.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “How long will you be available to coach these kids?”

  Realization dawns in his eyes. “Not sure.” He shrugs. “A couple of weeks, maybe more if the Thunder doesn’t make it to the playoffs. I’m still hoping McKay can pull a few more wins out of his ass.” He whispers the last word, then glances over his shoulder at the Twinkies. “Don’t tell ’em I cussed. They’ve already taken me for ten dollars today.”

  A happy, carefree laugh explodes from me. It feels good and I have the man next to me to thank for my cheerfulness. I turn and lean my butt against the counter with my hands resting on the edge of the cool granite next to my hips. “My lips are sealed.”

  He pulls the dish towel from his shoulder and pops it at my hip. “If you’re joining us for dinner, then you’ll have to work for it.”

  “Oh, I’m joining you, and I’ll do anything you tell me to do, QB.” QB? Who am I? And why did that come out on a growl?

  His dark eyes dilate, and he searches my face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen, and I’m lost. “Shut up, and help Kayla set the table.”

  I pluck a piece of carrot from the salad sitting next to me on the counter and pop it into my mouth. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

  “Whatever I say, huh?” He seems to be having trouble getting the correct amount of air into his lungs to ask the question.

  Good.

  I look him up and down, and there’s no mistaking the fire blazing in his eyes. “As long as you wear that apron and nothing else. It’s giving me all kinds of Top Chef fantasies.”

  “Oh, you like to be on top?”

  This conversation has taken a turn into what the hell territory, and is totally inappropriate with Elva, Kayla, and the Twinkies five feet away, but I don’t care. “Top, bottom, sideways, doesn’t matter to me.” I pick a cherry tomato from the salad and put it to my lips.

  He leans in, all his focus on my mouth. Without taking my gaze from his, I place the red flesh of the fruit between my teeth and bite. For a moment I enjoy the tart juice as it squirts down my mouth, until I see Cash flinch. That’s when I see tomato juice on his face.

  He covers his eye and shouts, “Shit. It burns.”

  “Coach cussed!” the Twinkies yell.

  “Oh, my Lord. Let me help.” I grab the dish towel from his shoulder and dab at his eye. I’ve just blinded the number one quarterback in the NFL.

  Thirty-Five

  Cash

  “You owe the swear jar a dollar,” one of the Twinkies says.

  I dig my wallet out of my back pocket and toss it in the direction of the table where my audience sits. “Here, take it all because I’m about to fill this kitchen with some serious profanity.”

  “Okay, girls, that’s our cue to skedaddle,” Elva says. The scrape of chairs on the wood floor signals their obedience. The back door slams shut, and I let loose a string of curses that would have my mama washing my mouth out with soap.

  “I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-sorry-I’m-so-sorry,” Tiger chants and jabs my eye with the dish towel.

  “It’s fine, just stop poking me in the eye.”

  “Oh, my heavens, I … what can I do?”

  My good eye peeks open. “Step away from the fruits and vegetables until I can see again.”

  She steps back and puts a kitchen chair between us, I guess to let me know she’s no longer a threat.

  I move to the sink, flip on the tap, and lean my head over. The cool water runs into my eye, and that feels almost as bad as the tomato juice. Slowly but surely, the burning eases. I feel around for the towel but come up empty.

  “Oh, here.” Tiger takes a tentative step toward me, then holds her hand out with the towel dangling from her fingers.

  “Thanks.” I blot my face. Crap, it still burns. I turn toward her, and she gasps. “What?”

  “Your eye is …”

  “What?”

  Her lips go between her teeth.

  “Tell me, damn it.”

  “Is still in your head.” Her cheeks hollow like she’s trying not to laugh.

  “Go ahead, laugh it up. You know they call me the hundred-million-dollar man. You got a hundred million to buy out my contract if I’m blinded?”

  “You’re not blind. Come, sit, and let me have a look.”

  I drop into the chair and spread my legs, and she steps between them. Her cool fingers gently prod around my eye. And all of a sudden, I’m very happy that she assaulted my eye with tomato juice. “How does it look, doc?” I bite back a groan when her fingernails scrape against my skin as she pushes my hair off my forehead.

  “I think you’ll live.” Her warm, sweet breath fans across my face. The outside of her thighs brush against the inside of mine and the friction is a good sort of torture.

  I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her head in my hands. “What do I owe you?” The words are as weak as McKay’s downfield pass.

  She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment, and I worry that I’ve misread the situation. I start to release her head, but then her lips land on mine. It’s nothing like that puny excuse for a kiss we shared in Brad’s office, but it’s not ravenous or wild either. It’s as gentle as a long-awaited reunion. Good thing too, because I’ve waited fifteen years to put my lips on hers like this, and I will not be rushed.

  A closed-mouth kiss for the years I burned for her in high school.

  A lick at the seam of her lips for when I almost had her and lost her.

  A nip and scrape of my teeth on her soft skin for the years her memory stood between me and any other woman.

  And finally, my tongue mates with hers, because I’ve dreamed of my mouth on hers for as long as I’ve known her.

  I’ve never kissed Tiger Lyons like this before, and within seconds, I can’t remember kissing anyone else.

  A squeal fro
m outside yanks both of us from the moment. Our eyes fly open at the same time. And her grin mirrors the one I know is spread across my face.

  I loop a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Her hands cup my face. “That was nice.”

  “Nice?” I raise my brows. “Baby, I must not have been doing it right if all you can say is that it was nice.”

  She drops her forehead to mine. “Anything more than that might’ve resulted in the loss of clothing.”

  Hoo-lee shit. I take a couple of quick breaths like I do when it’s third and goal, and I’m about to surge into the end zone. I’m going for it, but I could get my ass handed to me. “How about later?”

  Two quick pats of her hand on my cheek, then she straightens. “Maybe yes, maybe no, QB.” She moves to the back door and glances back at me. “We’ll see.”

  The back door slams, and the dare in those two words hangs in the air. She must’ve forgotten who she’s talking to because I eat challenges like that for breakfast.

  She doesn’t know it yet, but Tiger Lyons is mine.

  Thirty-Six

  Tiger

  “Why is your face so red, Miss Tiger?” Marci glances up from a game of checkers she and Misty are playing on the back porch. “Did you get tomato juice in your eye too?”

  I duck my head to hide what I know is a scarlet stripe across my cheeks. “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, you do look flushed. Are you sure you’re alright?” Elva says with a wink.

  I narrow my eyes at the meddler, then hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to make a call.”

  The old bird laughs. “We’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”

  I make my way down the porch steps and into the yard. My fingers punch the appropriate button to dial Maggie’s number.

  “This better be good, Tiger. You know this is Piranha-hour.”

  “I kissed Cash again.”

  “Hang on.”

  My fingers go to my lips, which are still warm from the thorough attention he gave my mouth.

  “Okay, I’m back. I turned on a movie for the kids.” I hear a chair scrape against the floor on the other end of the line. “Now spill.”