Even as what he’s grown into registers in my mind, I can feel his dark eyes licking over me. Does he like what he sees now? In some ways, I’m the same blonde and blue-eyed girl he once knew every inch of. In other ways, I’ve changed so much. I’ve got curves I didn’t used to have, my hair is shorter and more practical, and I’m already battling the faint lines trying to appear on my forehead. And that’s just the stuff on the surface. More has changed inside me than outside. But his gaze sears me, rooting me in place as he leisurely looks his fill.
I’m definitely hot and bothered, and it’s not anger now. But I wasn’t enough once, and that was when I was whole. The woman I am now, with shatters throughout my soul that have been repaired with determination and grit, is definitely not enough.
I can’t do this, especially not with him when he’s got the clear advantage. Flirting or even playing at it in antagonism has stakes that are simply way too high.
I take a steadying breath, willing my shoulders to drop and my eyes to lift to meet his. This is just like a negotiation at work. Stay cool and calm, and never let the other guy see you sweat.
“Bruce, you don’t know me anymore.” I can see his mouth opening to interrupt me, and I hold up a staying hand. “And I don’t know you. It’s been a long time, and we have months of practices and games coming up. I don’t want things to be uncomfortable . . . for Cooper. You and I are adults. We can handle it, but I need this to be okay for my son. He wants to play football and I want to give him that.”
It’s all I have. Blunt honesty laid bare at his feet with only a shred of hope that he won’t destroy Cooper’s dream because of our past.
He looks across the field, and I follow his sightline, watching Cooper and Liam. They’ve worn themselves out and are lying sprawled out in the grass, pointing at the streaks of clouds painting the sky as the sun sets.
“Where’s his Dad, Allyson? Who’s his dad?” The questions are gritted from behind clenched teeth, and the muscle in his jaw pops out beneath the shadow of his beard. His arms resume their position across his chest, and I wonder if it’s a defense mechanism, like he’s preparing himself for my answer. But there’s no way he cares, not after all these years.
I blink against the sting in my eyes, not looking at Bruce but keeping my attention on Cooper. “I shouldn’t answer that, but I will. He doesn’t have one. I’m all he’s got. All he’s ever had. All that mattered, anyway.”
Furious at the tears escaping, I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hands as I walk across the field, leaving Bruce behind me. I’m not crying for the loss of my ex-husband and Cooper’s father. He can rot in hell for all I care. The tears are for my son who will never have more than me.
I’m a good mother . . . hell, I’m a fucking great mother, if I say so myself, but I’m not a father. Though I try my best, I can’t be everything Cooper needs. But I’ll be damned if I won’t get it for him.
I don’t want to know Bruce’s response, can’t handle his smug smile as he takes away the one thing I want desperately . . . again. So I focus on the task at hand.
“Come on, boys. Time to head home for dinner before Michelle gets done at the gym. You two are in luck. I’m making my famous mac-and-cheese with chicken nuggets.”
They don’t know that what makes the macaroni and cheese recipe so special is the squash puree I hide in it. Sometimes, a mom needs tricks, and I’ve become a pro at disguising vegetables in all sorts of ways.
They cheer, running for the car.
I hold my chin high as I pass Bruce, not risking a glance his way, but I can feel him watching me, analyzing me, judging me.
“I’ll see you at practice on Thursday.”
The good-bye should be simple, but I can feel the agreement to put aside our past and work together for the boys. For Cooper.
He could so easily take this away from him, but somewhere underneath the snarling beast he is to me is still the kind heart he always had. My gaze dips to my toes. “Thank you.”
I virtually run for the car before he can change his mind.
* * *
That night, after tucking Cooper into bed and having a glass of wine, I tumble into bed without so much as opening a single file for work. I dream of Bruce, a superimposed double image of the boy I used to know and the man he is today.
I’m laid back in a fluffy bed of white sheets, a place we never had sex before. In the barn, in his truck, on blankets in fields, and once, even against the wall behind the old bowling alley, but never in a bed, so I know this is a dream.
His stubble scratches along the sensitive skin of my neck as his hot breath reaches my ears. “You want this cock, baby? Tell me.”
I moan and writhe, in my actual and dream beds. “Yes,” I purr.
His chuckle vibrates against my belly as he moves lower. “Just need a taste first.” His tongue flicks over my clit, and I surge upward, chasing him, and he growls in approval.
“More,” I demand, and he obliges. He sucks at my lips and then seals his mouth over my clit, battering it with the tip of his tongue. One thick finger teases along my entrance, and I push into it, inviting him inside me.
I want to be filled by him, marked by him, owned by him.
Something about that niggles at the periphery of my awareness, but I wave it away like an annoying insect, focusing on the pleasure he’s giving me.
He slides in, immediately curling his finger up to that rough patch along my front wall that we’d experimented to find. He strokes it, tapping every once in a while in a pattern I can’t anticipate, which drives me wild.
“Fuck, Bruce. Please . . .” I beg.
He covers me, pressing his naked body to mine and aligning his cock right where I want him. “Slow or fast?” he asks.
He’s a considerate lover, always preps me to take him. He told me from the first time that he’s big, though I had nothing to compare to. But I grew to love that initial shock of pinched pain when he thrust into me all at once, instantly stretching me to accommodate him. That edging on the line of pain and pleasure makes me feel alive.
“Fast!” I dig my nails into his back, spurring him on.
He slams into me and I . . .
Wake up. Panting and disoriented, I look around my dark room, not remembering where I am. Or when I am.
I’m drenched with sweat and my pussy is throbbing as my knees knock together and my thighs squeeze, looking for relief. My fingers brush over my clit through my soaked panties and I consider finishing myself off. I’m already so on edge, it won’t take much, and he’ll never have to know.
But I will, and that’s dangerous.
Too dangerous.
I sit up instead, reaching over to grab the glass of water I always keep on the bedside table and drinking greedily, wishing it would cool off my arousal as it quenches my thirst.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to remember Bruce’s cold words today, his sneer and hatefulness toward me. Not his flexing biceps, not his easy grin for everyone else, and definitely not the bulge in his dirty jeans.
I set the glass down and flop onto my back. Something tells me I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.
Chapter 6
Bruce
“Good job, guys,” I yell across the field as I loudly clap my hands together. “Keep it going!”
I’m aiming for motivation, but even to my ears, it sounds more like a barked order. I can feel Mike eyeballing me instead of the boys, who are running their laps. They’ve got the hang of running as a team now, and we let them go on their own, keeping watch.
They’re rounding their third lap and going for the extension of the fourth, and their initial excitement is wearing off as tiredness sets in. That’s where the motivation is supposed to come in, to cheer them on for that final push to success. I predict a dozen kids falling into their beds without a single complaint tonight.
A quick flash later, the boys cross the finish line and lay out in the grass. I look down at my watch as I walk toward them.
“Fellas, your best run time on three laps has been six-thirty. Today, you added another lap and your total time was eight-fifteen.” They groan, too tired to do math, but luckily, I’ve already done it for them. “Want the good news or the bad?”
I see a few sweaty heads perk up and lift from the grass to look at me.
“Good news is, you maintained your speed even with the additional lap, and no man was left behind. That’s amazing and shows that you pushed for it, judging by how you look right now. I like that hard work and dedication, gentlemen.”
“Bad news?” one of them asks, but I’m not sure who since it was mumbled into the ground.
“That was a good warm-up. Now let’s get to practice,” I say with a hint of evil glee. There’s a chorus of groans and I clap again. “Got two minutes for water and whining, boys, and then we’re playing some football.”
They rally, movement returning to their limbs as they seek out their water bottles and chug down some liquid refreshment. Hopefully, it reignites their fire because we’ve got forty-five minutes to go and some hard work to do.
We gather back up, and Mike gives us the breakdown of plays we’re going to run. I see Evan flinch a bit when Anthony gets quarterback, because Evan wants that spot badly, but he does as he’s told and takes the line. Good kid. He’s going to be a hell of a player one day if he keeps working hard.
They run the drill over and over again, Mike and me giving feedback and constructive criticism each time. Finally, we switch to another play and then another. We’re still in baby steps, dive right, sweep left, simple pass routes . . . but the kids are picking it up.
By the last twenty minutes of practice, my eyes are darting toward the parking lot every few seconds. Even if I won’t admit it to myself, I know I’m looking for Allyson. I’m damn near holding my breath as I wait for her sensible grey sedan to pull in, for her to walk over to the field, for her eyes to meet mine.
I wonder what I’ll see there. Hell, I can’t wait to find out, and isn’t that a fucking pisser?
On Tuesday, she’d come up all mouthy and strong, but I saw her crumbling when I pushed back and threw barbs at her. I almost felt bad until she’d spewed some shots back. We never fought like that when we were dating, but I always loved her fire, that she spoke her mind. Even about the damn baby ducks nobody else in our town gave a shit about.
And there’d been that moment of heat when I felt her eyes tracing every inch of me. I’d wanted to puff up like a damn lion, show her what she’d lost and that I’ve been just fine without her. But I’d also taken advantage of her distraction to do a little perusal of my own.
I told Bobby she’s still hot. But there’s so much more that I didn’t share. She filled out good, curves and swerves where there used to be hard angles. Her hair is shorter than it was when we were kids, but the waves still lick her shoulders, tempting me to fist them as I kiss her, fuck her mouth, pound into her pussy.
Not that I’ll be doing that ever again.
As sexy as she always has been and still is, there’s something else about her that drew my attention. She used to be so perky, the literal cliché of a cheerleader bee-bopping down the halls of our high school. She’s an adult and understandably grown out of that, of course, but what’s left seems . . . darker somehow? Like there’s a storm cloud hovering on the horizon of her very being, and I wonder what brought that on.
She’d cried when I’d asked about Cooper’s dad, though she’d tried to hide the tears from me with her bravado. I wonder if something happened to him, something that might explain the shadow over Allyson and why Cooper doesn’t have a dad.
She feels like a new version of a puzzle I once could do from memory.
But whatever questions I might have about the girl I used to know and who she’s grown into, one thing’s for sure. I have got to stop watching for her and pay attention to practice.
“Good footwork, Cooper. Light and fast, I can tell you’ve been practicing. Make sure you keep your eyes looking for defenders as you run, Derek. Holes will open and close quick.”
It’s the smallest addition to what Mike already told them, almost a verbatim repeat of his critique. Mike raises one brow in question, but I smile to let him know I’m fine and hope he thinks I just wanted to emphasize it for Derek.
They run the play again, but I don’t see a bit of it because she’s here.
Allyson walks down the sidewalk of the park, keeping her distance from practice. I automatically think it’s to stay away from me, and a thread of anger starts to burn, but I realize a second later that she can’t walk in the grass in her heels.
She looks like she’s come straight from work in high heels, a slim black skirt that hits just above her knees, and a sleeveless blue blouse the color of her eyes. Her waves are pulled back in some sort of twisted knot on top of her head, and there are glasses perched in front of the bun.
She’s got some sort of sexy librarian thing going on that I wouldn’t have expected to do a damn thing for a rough cowboy like me, but suddenly, bookish nerds are looking mighty fine. Or at least this one is.
She doesn’t smile, and even from here, I can see that she’s biting her lip uncertainly. Her arms cross protectively over her middle as her eyes meet mine.
We just stare, words and thoughts and emotions crossing between us like Wonka Vision, but whatever it is she’s trying to tell me, it’s coming through all wrong and I can’t decipher it. I used to know what she was going to say before she even thought it and took delight in finishing her sentences for her. Now, I couldn’t tell you if she wants to kill me or fuck me.
Or both.
I hate it.
I want to stride across the field, cage her in, and ask her to just be straight with me. At least then, I’d know where I stand and could adjust accordingly. Because this confusion irritates the fuck out of me.
If she wants to be enemies, fine. I’ll get on board with glaring at her and leaving her the fuck alone. I’m damn near angry enough to demand we do that myself. But if she wants to fuck, maybe I’ll bend her over the nearest flat surface and make her scream my name again.
I’m just not sure which she wants.
Hell, I’m not sure which I want.
Coach football. Avoid Allyson.
My own words echo through my head. To hell with her. She doesn’t get to decide this. I do, and I’m not going back for more promises and sweet nothings only to be thrown away like yesterday’s trash.
I turn around to the boys, dismissing her. I pull my cap down tight, curling the edges a little more, and then cross my arms over my chest.
“You good?” Mike says quietly from beside me.
Shit. Hadn’t really considered that the silent staredown at fifty paces was a second act for Mike and the team moms who I now realize are watching raptly.
Instead of answering, I grunt.
“Might need to bring popcorn for the moms if you’re going to keep the Showcase Showdown action going. I’m Bob Barker. Please spay and neuter your pets.” He’s trying to joke, but I’m not in the mood for it.
I let out a whistle, making everyone flinch with the volume, but it gets their attention. “Circle up, boys. Last push for practice.” They form a loose circle that includes Mike and me. “We’re going to do something new. Starting person” —I point at myself— “will call out an exercise, like burpees. Everyone does five.”
I drop to the grass, do a push-up, and then jump up, repeating it four more times. Finishing, I wait for the last kid to complete his fifth and then point to Mike who’s standing next to me.
“Jumping jacks,” he says, catching on. Everyone does their five.
We keep going . . . squats, toe touches, windmills, tuck jumps, and then things start to get sillier. “Hop on one foot,” Cooper says, and we do. “Hop on the other foot,” Liam adds, and we do that too.
By the time we make it around the circle three times, we’re exhausted and the kids are laughing. Mostly because the
last exercise Joshua called out was for everyone to do the chicken dance. We’d sung and danced along, even shaking our tail feathers. I might’ve intentionally wiggled my ass Allyson’s way a little bit too, rubbing her nose in what she can’t have . . . me.
“I think that’s a good point to call it a night,” Mike interrupts. “I’m nervous what Johnathan would have us do as a follow-up, and I’m already not gonna live down that I did the chicken dance in the park.” He looks around like there might be someone watching him make a fool of himself, but he grins, letting everyone know that he’s not really embarrassed in the least.
Their eyes jump to me and I scoff. “I ain’t embarrassed. I can cut a rug and teach ya how to Dougie.”
The boys look to each other in confusion and then back to me. “What’s a Dougie?”
I hang my head in faux shame, a hand pressed to my chest. “You wound me, making an old man feel even older.” They giggle and I look back up. “I’ll show you another day. For now, everyone under six feet tall had best be getting home for a shower, a healthy dinner, and early bedtime. Bring it in one time.”
We do our pile of hands in the middle, cheer loud and proud, and then they scatter.
“Hey, Evan, why don’t you go look at the ducks for a second? We’ve got a coach meeting really quick,” Mike says, and though he’s talking to his kid, he’s really telling me to sit tight. Evan runs off for the water, shouting something that sounds like ‘here, ducky, ducky,’ and Mike turns to me, his hands on his hips. “Can I talk to you about something?”
I dip my chin in permission and he goes right for the jugular.
“What’s the deal with you and Cooper’s mom? You dating, fucking, one-night standing, she stalking you, you stalking her?”
Rough Love Page 6