When I Need You

by Lorelei James

  since I’m on a budget, so the one-gift thing works for now.” I snapped the piece he’d handed me into place. “Did the Lund kids have a Ringling Brothers–type birthday party circus every year?”

  “Nope. My mom kept birthdays low-key. It’s a Swedish thing. My parents also limited the number of our classmates’ parties we could go to.”

  I looked at him. “Because . . . ?”

  “Our classmates and their parents assumed the rich kids would bring expensive presents. So we got invited to a lot of birthday parties. Mom and Dad had to draw the line somewhere.”

  “Setting limits for your kid isn’t fun.”

  “Setting limits for anything isn’t fun.” Jensen’s eyes met mine. Then his gaze roamed over my face.

  “What? It’s been five days and you’re looking at me like you don’t recognize me.”

  “I look at you, but I don’t always see you, Rowan.”

  I found it hard to breathe.

  “Hanging out together . . . You’re just Coach Bossy Pants, a contrary redhead, a fierce mother to your son, a friend who makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me mad, bakes for me . . . and I forget you’re a stunningly beautiful woman. Then I get this close to you and I’m reminded in vivid detail that you are mega-hot, with those fuck-me bedroom eyes and kiss-me-now lips. Christ, you smell like cookies and flowers and sex and I just want to devour you.”

  “Jensen.”

  “Devour you,” he repeated as if I hadn’t heard him the first time. He crouched down until we were eye to eye. “Ask me why I stayed away this week.”

  “Why did you stay away this week?”

  “Because I’m a shitty friend.”

  “Why are you a shitty friend?”

  “Because I don’t want to be friends with you.” He invaded my space until I felt his breath on my lips. “I want to devour you.”

  Pretty sure my lungs stopped functioning at that point.

  Twelve

  JENSEN

  Rowan blinked at me. A sexy slow blink, and my heart started to pound.

  When she sank her teeth into her lower lip, I experienced that incredible rush of anticipation.

  Finally.

  I would finally get to kiss her.

  She’d tilt her head and it’d be on.

  It’d be one of those slo-mo¸ soft-focus, romantic movie kisses. Lips sliding together. Parting only to suck in a fast breath before the intense I-wanna-fuck-you sex kisses overwhelmed us both.

  Then Rowan reached out . . . and playfully patted me on the cheek. “Dude. If you’re that hungry I could fix you something to eat.”

  What?

  She wasn’t serious . . . was she?

  My gaze narrowed on her lips. Her mouth moved. But I couldn’t hear anything over the rat-a-tat-tat-tat sound of machine gun fire as she thoroughly shot me down.

  Thoroughly.

  Man. I needed a traffic cop to sort out the number of mixed signals this woman was sending me.

  So I did what any self-respecting guy with a Titanic-sized hole in his ego would do . . . I said fuck it and kissed her anyway.

  Not the tasteful, soft-porn type of kiss I’d envisioned. Not even the teeth-clacking soul kiss I craved. I gave her a hard, swift kiss, right on her surprised mouth, followed by a light head-butt, because apparently I was still a twelve-year-old boy and that was how I let her know I liked her even after she’d torpedoed my ego.

  “You are tired if you thought I was talking about food,” I said offhandedly as I stood.

  “Jensen . . .”

  “It’s late. I just wanted to share the good news about camp. Astrid is creating registration documents, release forms, medical forms and all that necessary stuff that’s out of my wheelhouse. So it’ll probably be Monday before I can get that to you.”

  “Jensen.”

  “She mentioned that she’d like to have a phone conference with you early next week to discuss the best way to get in contact with the other parents whose kids were displaced. Oh, and during the cost analysis, we determined we need to add another ten kids to the camp for a better balance in the classroom. So if you have other kids in mind, talk to Astrid about adding them to the list.”

  “Jensen.”

  “We’re opening up the building next week and I’ll be there as much as my training schedule allows, getting it ready for opening day so you probably won’t see me much—”

  “Hey, dickhead. Stop babbling.”

  I turned around and faced her. “That’s twice with the name-calling tonight, Coach.”

  “You brought it on yourself by talking over me.”

  “By all means. You’ve got the floor.”

  “Thank you. I . . .” She inhaled and slowly let it out. “I’m a shitty friend too, all right?”

  Do not say anything even remotely smart-ass-y, Lund.

  “This is new to me. It wasn’t supposed to happen—”

  “But it did. And ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

  “As if I ever had a chance of ignoring you,” she retorted.

  My body language said, “Is that a bad thing?” even when I remained quiet.

  “And I don’t know what to do with it, okay?”

  “I could give you a hint.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  She sighed. “Fine. What is your hint?”

  “The next time I want to kiss you? Let me.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

  I laughed.

  “Stop joking around.” She blinked at me. “You are joking, right?”

  I didn’t answer. Let her come to her own conclusions. Or . . . let her stew. I smiled and said, “Good night, Rowan.”

  • • •

  It’d been a long week.

  Things weren’t completely ready, but I’d called a staff meeting for Friday morning anyway.

  A staff meeting. Me. Mr. Tune-Out during any meeting longer than five minutes where I wasn’t watching guys get pummeled.

  I had a feeling karma was about to bite me in the ass.

  Every other camp-type situation I’d been involved in had been with other football players. So the work was split up between at least half a dozen of us. The camps never lasted long: three hours at the most. Then we’d have an autograph session.

  This summer camp sent me into unknown territory and I’d dragged poor Astrid along for the ride. She’d been great this past week, but I needed her to be on top of everything the next three months because I’d be hit-and-miss. Realizing I preferred being a worker bee to being the big boss when it came to my LCCO responsibilities meant I had no ego about putting Astrid on the payroll and upping her responsibilities. But the truth was, my main responsibility was to train and prepare for football season.

  I rolled out of bed and headed to the fitness center in the apartment complex. I wouldn’t have time for a full workout before I met with the staff, but I could at least get cardio out of the way.

  After four hard miles on the treadmill, I showered. I threw on some clean clothes and heated up one of my prepared breakfasts that didn’t suck—steel-cut oats with almonds, blueberries and honey. I filled out the form online for the following week’s meals as I ate and hit send when I finished.

  My family gave me crap for employing a personal chef. Before Brady had met Lennox, he ate whatever meals his secretary brought him—usually at his desk. Walker was marginally better cooking for himself. But his company provided lunch for their employees, so I failed to see how having healthy meals delivered to my door was any different.

  Besides, because I was a professional athlete my caloric intake needs fluctuated. Hiring an expert to keep my protein-to-carb ratio balanced for optimum performance was no different than hiring any other professional. I could probably roof a house myself, but why would I want to when I could hire a roofer?

  I didn’t understand why my mom took it so personally that Chef J prepared my meals when she’d had a full-time cook and several other do
mestic workers when I was growing up.

  She’s concerned because she wants a woman in your life to share meal prep responsibilities, not a random guy in a restaurant across town.

  But even if I was in a serious relationship? I wouldn’t expect my partner to adhere to the same diet I did during the season or learn how to prepare it.

  “Dude. If you’re that hungry I could fix you something to eat.”

  Rowan. I still couldn’t believe she’d said that to me when I’d wanted to kiss her.

  I hadn’t seen her much this week. Once in the elevator as I returned home and she was leaving to run Calder someplace. Once in the hallway between our apartments. Calder had started a long story about . . . I honestly couldn’t remember. I’d spent the entire time watching Rowan. Wondering if I’d taken spinning my wheels to a whole new level. Wondering why I’d ditch my three nonnegotiable rules in a hot minute if she gave me a sign she wanted more than this bogus attempt at being friends.

  But the stubborn woman hadn’t made the effort. I’d wait her out. I could be damn stubborn too.

  At the site of Camp Step-Up, a former elementary school, I parked my Land Cruiser next to an older-model Saturn.

  Astrid climbed out of it as I walked past. She fell into step with me, holding the biggest insulated coffee mug I’d ever seen. “Morning,” she said brightly. “I’m glad you’re here early.”

  “Better early than late.”

  “I’ve already been here for forty-five minutes,” she confessed.

  “Why didn’t you go in?”

  “We haven’t discussed specifics on arrival times and if I’m allowed to open the building early. Or if I fall behind on my work”—she made a sarcastic little snort, as if that’d ever happen—“and I have to stay late, if you’re all right with me locking down the building.”

  “Since you have the code I’d think it’d be a given that you can come and go as you please.”

  She stopped, forcing me to stop. “This is what I’m talking about. I don’t assume anything. We have to make these types of decisions as a team. I’d think it was a given that you’d know all about teamwork.”

  “You’re right. We need to be on the same page of the playbook.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You couldn’t have said ‘the ball is in your court’ or anything that doesn’t use the clichéd word playbook?”

  “Hey, it’s no joke that a playbook is the bible in my world. And get used to the sports analogies, because that’s how I roll. Since we’re both early we’ll have time to go over whatever list you’ve got—I’m assuming there’s more than one.” I pointed to her enormous coffee cup. “You have enough to share?”

  “Nope.”

  “Stingy with the caffeine. I’ll remember that. Let’s see if you know how to work the new security system.”

  Astrid struggled to juggle her coffee as she punched in the code, but she got it right on the first try.

  We wandered into the area that’d served as the office and dumped our stuff. LCCO had done few updates, but the entire facility would be cleaned next week.

  This was one of the smallest elementary schools I’d ever been in. No wonder the school district had sold this property. The building had sat empty for the past fifteen years prior to LCCO purchasing the property three years ago. They’d used it for storage and as a place to organize items for various charity events. After talking with Aunt Priscilla, I’d learned that LCCO remained unsure on future plans for the space. Renovating was economically unfeasible—according to Brady, the Lund Industries CFO, as well as Walker, the Lund family construction expert.

  The gymnasium had a stage that stretched along the back wall. In the corner was a line of portable lunch tables. In the opposite corner a door led to a small kitchen.

  “Was this a working kitchen when this school was in use?”

  “It’s hard to believe they had enough room in here to prepare meals for over a hundred kids every day.” I opened the first big refrigerator and cold air poured out.

  “Are we letting the kids put their lunches in the fridge? Or is it just for snacks?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “I don’t know. That’s one we’ll play by ear.” I tipped my head toward the door. “Grab the clipboard and let’s start checking things off. We’ll start by making sure the art supplies were delivered to the right room.”

  As we cut out of the gym and into the hallway, unencumbered by rows of lockers, I remembered that we hadn’t had lockers until junior high. We’d kept all of our school supplies in our desks and hung our coats in the closet in the classroom.

  “This place is totally retro,” Astrid said. “I feel like we stepped back in time.”

  “Can you believe there were only eight classrooms in this entire school?”

  She shook her head. “One wing of my elementary school had eight classrooms.”

  “Makes you realize just how super-sized everything has become.” I opened the door to the first room.

  The individual desks had been cleared out. A stack of pallets marked ART SUPPLIES took up one corner.

  After giving the wall of windows a cursory glance, I said, “I hope this room doesn’t get too hot.” Walker would lose his mind if he saw a single bead of sweat on his wife’s brow. And then he’d probably install central air.

  I’d been here before, but Astrid hadn’t. She rocked at multitasking; we cleared half of her list as we wandered from room to room.

  The last doors on the far end opened into what used to be a library.

  “Oh wow. This is depressing, seeing all these empty shelves.” Astrid ran her hand along the weathered oak. “At every school I spent vast amounts of time in the library. I’ll bet this place was cozy when it was filled with books.”

  When I was growing up, spending time in the library was torture. I was an outdoor kid. I wanted to be on the playground or in gym class. I wasn’t a bad student as much as a distracted one. The only series that kept my attention longer than fifteen minutes was Harry Potter, and only if I could read it outside in my tree fort.

  “What activity is going on in here?” Astrid asked me.

  “I’ll let the instructors hash it out, but I’m betting this room won’t be used at all.”

  She smirked. “So if you can’t find me, you’ll know the first place to look.”

  “Hello?” A voice echoed down the hallway.

  When I saw my sister-in-law Trinity, I couldn’t help but hug her; she looked so damn cute with that baby bump. “Hey, mama. Where’s your ugly half?”

  Trinity whapped me on the arm. “Walker is carrying in my bags because you know I’m not allowed to do a damn thing.”

  “As it should be.” My eyes narrowed. “He is gonna let you be here unattended, right?”

  “Fortunately they’re in the busy time of year and he’s all over town. But I suspect you’ll see him at lunch break since it’s his mission to ensure I eat all my veggies.” Trinity smiled at Astrid. “Hey. Good to see you stretching your wings outside the LCCO office.”

  Astrid turned and pointed. “Closest bathroom is right there.”

  I stared at her hard. “Why would you feel the need to tell her that first thing?”