“Thinking serious thoughts, QB?”
Her voice was low, teasing and brimming with laughter. I’d been so lost in my own head that I’d missed seeing her approach, but now I turned, my breath catching as I took her in.
I’d been trying to convince myself that Sarah could not have been as beautiful as I’d been picturing her. I’d told myself that I’d built up the way her wide brown eyes sparkled, how she held her head, and the alluring curves of her body.
I was wrong.
If anything, she was more gorgeous than I’d remembered. Her cheeks were flushed from being outside in the chilly San Francisco air, and she’d cut her hair a little, I thought; the ends curled just at the top of her shoulders. She wore dark blue jeans that hugged her long legs, a pair of black boots whose heels brought the top her head nearly to my nose, and a soft gray sweater that showed off those curves I’d recalled so fondly.
Her eyes did a quick sweep of me, too, and then her dimples popped out.
“Hey, QB. Looking good.” Stepping just a bit closer, she wrapped me in a tight hug of greeting. There wasn’t anything sexual about it—it was definitely an embrace of a friend, not one that led to anything more interesting. Still, I didn’t miss the opportunity to appreciate the way her soft body melted against mine, and I might’ve taken a good, long sniff of her hair.
When Sarah moved away, I felt immediately bereft, as though I was missing something essential. I swallowed hard; it was taking all of my willpower not to drop to my knees and cling to her.
“Right back at you.” I cleared my throat, pretending that it was disuse and not desire making my voice raspy. “California living must agree with you.”
“So far, so good, I think.” She nodded and slid her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “I love the work, and I love the Crockers. They’re really good folks. Meeting people and finding new friends isn’t easy, though.” There was a wistful, almost lonely note to her tone that I didn’t miss.
“I was surprised you were free tonight.” It came out as an accusation, as though I was mad at Sarah for being available to me, and that was so not the case. “I mean, Taylor said you had plans.”
She cocked her head, looking up at me with amused surprise. “You asked Leo about me? That might be even more shocking than the fact that you texted me, Gideon.”
“Ah . . .” I ran one hand over my hair. “I didn’t exactly ask. He volunteered the information. I thought maybe if Quinn was here, the three of you would be going out, but he told me she didn’t make the trip. And then he mentioned the Crockers and told me that you were working for them. He said he’d reached out to see if you wanted to get together, but you were busy.”
“Oh.” Sarah glanced down, her lashes lowering over her eyes. “Well . . . yeah, I might have told a little fib there. But it was for a good cause, I think.”
“Really?” I drew closer to her, giving in to the need to be nearer. “What was that?”
“Actually, it’s two parts.” She lifted a finger, counting off. “One, given our history, I don’t think it’s a good idea for Leo and me to hang out without Quinn. Not that I expect anything would happen,” she added hastily. “I don’t feel anything for him, and I know for certain that he’s crazy in love with his wife. But he’s kind of high profile now, and if someone took a picture of the two of us out on the town while his wife was at home in Virginia, it wouldn’t be good press for either of us.”
I nodded, impressed that she’d thought of that. “True. Reporters and photographers don’t tend to ask questions before they run sensational stories.” I knew that all too well. “So what was part two?”
Sarah smiled again, even as her expression took on a shade of embarrassment. “This is going to make me sound either arrogant or pathetic, but I promise you, it’s neither. I didn’t want to commit to seeing Leo because . . . I guess I was sort of holding out hope that you might call me.”
Pleasure filled my heart, making it impossible not to return her somewhat sheepish grin. “Really? You told Taylor you couldn’t hang out with him on the off-chance that I might get in touch?”
“Don’t get cocky.” She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t really think you would. You told me you were never going to use my number, and in our brief acquaintance, you’ve struck me as a man who says what he means and means what he says.” She paused, lifting her chin to level her eyes at me. “Still, even men like that have been known to change their minds. I was hoping you would.”
I held her gaze. “You’re right. I meant it when I said I wasn’t planning to text you.” Lifting one shoulder, I allowed the side of my mouth to curl up. “I’m glad I changed my mind.”
“Me, too.” Tilting her head toward the door that led out into the street, she made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “You’ve got to be starved after that game, and I’m pretty hungry myself. Shall we go?”
I gave one decisive nod. “Yeah. Let’s go. Show me your new city, princess.”
“Well? What do you think?”
I took another bite of my hamburger and almost moaned. “This is incredible. It might be the best burger I’ve ever had. Seriously.”
“Right?” Sarah nodded vigorously and picked up a sweet potato fry, dragging it through the small dish of cinnamon butter. “Kara recommended this place to me one day when I was desperate for real food. I mean, food that isn’t . . .” She twirled one finger in the air, next to her face. “Vegetables and tofu and tempeh. All of that is incredible here, and I’ve enjoyed a few restaurants that serve it, but sometimes, a girl just needs a really righteous burger. You know?”
“Yeah, I do.” I spoke around the bite I’d just taken and was chewing. “I try to eat healthy all the time. My sister is vegan, and when she comes to visit me or I go up to her place, she’s always feeding me her kind of food. But even though I like some of it, after a game, I can’t imagine having anything but red meat.” I shook my head. “I guess that makes me sound like a caveman.”
“Not at all.” She leaned back in her chair, crunching down on a pickle spear. As I watched her, a wicked grin spread over her face.
“What?” I picked up my napkin and wiped off my mouth. “Do I have ketchup on my chin?”
“No,” Sarah laughed. “I was just thinking about one of the guys who works with me. His name is Asher. He’s one of the uber-healthy veggie lovers who’re always trying to convert me.”
Jealousy reared its ugly green head. “Asher, huh? Is Asher going to be pissed that you’re out with me tonight, and not with him?”
Mirth filled her eyes. “If he is, it’s only because he’d rather be in my spot, sitting here with my view of you.” She lowered her voice. “Asher talks a good show about hating the violence and commercialization of football, but I think he’s got a secret yen for you guys. I’ve caught him mooning over my sports magazines.”
“Ah.” I relaxed, irritated at myself for caring about whether Sarah’s new friend Asher was more interested in her or in me. It shouldn’t matter. And yet . . . “So you’re not hooking up with good old Asher. Have you found anyone else out here in the city by the bay?”
“Not exactly.” She sighed, wilting a little. “I’ve been on a couple of dates, but they’ve all been duds. Not the guys, just the dates. I don’t have that—” She cast her eyes upwards, thinking. “That spark, you know? The connection that makes me willing to invest time and energy on a second date. They’ve all been decent enough men, but none of them have lit me on fire.”
“Well, um, give it time, I guess.” I finished my burger, wishing absurdly that I had the right to ask her not to date anyone else. I didn’t have that right, because what the hell would I do next? Ask Sarah to wait until I was ready to stop playing football, on the off-chance that whatever this was between us—friendship or spark or more than that—could develop into something real and lasting?
No, I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t. I had to be happy to settle for the time we had together tonight, for a meal shared wi
th another person, with someone I liked and respected. That had to be enough for now.
As if she was reading my thoughts, Sarah was quiet as we both finished our meal. I insisted on paying, even when she countered that I was her guest in the city.
“But I’m the one who texted you and asked you out.” I spoke with a finality that didn’t brook any questions. “So I’m paying for dinner.” When I saw her lower lip shift into a semi-pout, I added, “But if it makes you feel better, you could take me out for dessert.”
Sarah’s face brightened. “That works. I know just the right place. You do like ice cream, right? Please say yes, because if you don’t, I can never speak to you again.”
I chuckled. “Can’t have that. Yeah, I love ice cream.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Chocolate ice cream?”
“One of my favorite flavors,” I affirmed.
“Perfect.” Standing up, she hitched her purse over one shoulder. “Follow me. I am about to introduce you to heaven.”
You already did. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I choked back the words. Keeping things friendly and casual between us was getting harder and harder—and if I were being honest, there had been more than one point this evening when something else was getting harder, too. But I was determined that tonight was just about visiting a friend who happened to live in the city where I’d had a game. Nothing more. Sex wasn’t on the table.
I kind of thought Sarah was on that wavelength, too, the more that I considered it. After all, she’d come to get me at my hotel, stressing that we meet in the lobby; she hadn’t texted me her address and suggested that I go to her place. We’d stayed in public all night, in places where I wasn’t about to be overcome by temptation and toss her down on the nearest soft surface to have my way. I might be sex-starved, but I wasn’t a brute.
Together, we navigated the streets of the city. It was fully dark by now, but the sidewalks were lit by the glow of nearby shops and the decorative streetlights. We’d just passed one particularly gaudy storefront when Sarah came to a halt. She beckoned me to follow her down a narrow alley and through a small doorway.
For a moment, I thought we’d stepped back in time. It felt as though we were in an old-time malt shop from the fifties. Glass and gleaming chrome covered every surface, and round stools with red plastic seat covers stood in front of the counter.
The place was crowded as Sarah and I joined the line at the register.
“I come here sometimes for milkshakes or ice cream sodas, but I think tonight is more of cone night. Don’t you?” She looked up at me expectantly.
“Sure.” I glanced around us. “I don’t think we’ll get a table, though.”
“Silly.” She winked at me. “You don’t eat an ice cream cone at a table. We’ll take it with us and walk. I have a couple more spots I’d like to show you in the city before I have to take you back to your hotel.” She hesitated before adding, “If you’re not too tired, that is. I know this must have been a long day for you. You’re probably exhausted.”
I should have been, but oddly, I wasn’t. My body ached as it always did post-game, but I wasn’t ready for sleep yet. I realized to my dismay that I was dreading saying good night to Sarah. I wanted to find an excuse to put off the end of our evening together. And that wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.
“I’m okay,” I told her. “Since I don’t have to get up early tomorrow for a break-of-dawn flight, I can sleep in and catch up then. I want you to show me all your favorite places here.”
She smiled at me, moving just close enough that it would’ve been natural for me to sling one arm over her shoulders and hold her next to my body. With the slimmest of margins, I resisted temptation once again.
“Great,” she breathed. “Then we’ll get our ice cream, and your tour will continue.”
“Have you considered becoming a tour guide? You know, in your spare time.” I cast Sarah a sideways look. “And are you sure you’ve only been here four months? You know this city pretty well for a newcomer.”
“I spend a lot of time walking around by myself,” she confessed, grimacing a little. “As for moonlighting as a tour guide, while I think Kara Crocker would find that hilarious and not care at all if I did, most people who come here aren’t interested in the sights I find interesting.” She came to a sudden stop. “Exhibit A.”
I was about to retort that this wasn’t exactly the first example of proof that her must-see stops were quirky—we’d been walking all evening, and our last stop had been the GLBT Historical Society Museum, which was fascinating but definitely off the beaten path—but my words died when I saw where we were now. The sidewalk was relatively empty here alongside what looked to be a playground. But what was most impressive were the duo of cement slides that snaked up the hill in front of us.
“Seward Street Slides,” Sarah announced brightly. “The perfect way to end our tour. C’mon. We need to climb to the top and hope someone left cardboard.”
“Why the hell do we need cardboard?” I wondered aloud, but once we’d reached the top of the hill, I had my answer. Concrete slides wouldn’t be slippery enough if we didn’t have some help. Luckily, between the two slides, there was a large wire basket with discarded flattened boxes. Sarah fished out two and handed one to me.
“We’ll race.” She dropped her cardboard on the lip of one slide. “And I won’t even make you give me a head start.”
“Why would I give you a head start? You’re smaller and lighter than me,” I pointed out.
“But you’ll have more momentum.” She gave her head a shake. “Never mind. I don’t want to argue science right now. Let’s just get down to it.”
We settled ourselves at the top of our respective chutes. Sarah raised her voice to count us off.
“One . . . two . . . three . . . go!”
I gave myself a tremendous shove with both legs. Then we were off, gravity pulling us down the hill. Sarah’s laughter filled the air, and I couldn’t help joining her—the sound was just too contagious to resist. The air around us was cool and crisp, my stomach was comfortably full of burgers, fries and ice cream, and there wasn’t another person around, except the woman who was shrieking down the hill next to me.
She was right. This was heaven.
We landed at the bottom at the same time. I managed to leap to my feet, but Sarah wound up in a tangled heap, still giggling as she pushed her hair away from her face.
“I’ve wanted to try this slide since I first saw it,” she confessed. “But I’m glad I waited for you.”
I froze, frowning at her. “You haven’t been down the slide until just now?”
Sarah shook her head. “Nope. I’ve walked by several times, but there were always people here, and I was alone. It felt like I should have someone I knew with me to make my virgin run. Also, I didn’t want to get in line with a bunch of kids.”
“Huh. Yeah, I guess I understand that.”
We trudged back up the hill in silence, carefully folding our cardboard boxes and depositing them back into the wire basket. Sarah sighed.
“It’s getting late. I’d better get you back to your hotel, before you turn into a pumpkin.” She smiled again, but this time, it seemed forced.
And although I wanted to beg her to take me back to her apartment, to let me spend the night, or to ask her to come up to my hotel room for an encore session of what had happened back in January, I didn’t do either of those things. I just nodded.
“You’re probably right. I’m completely lost at this point. Is it that far away?”
She considered. “It’s a couple of miles, probably. We can walk part of the way and then grab a cab or a cable car, if you want.”
“I’m fine with walking.” Anything that would allow me to prolong my time with her. By this point, I was being honest with myself, at least. I might never let Sarah see the truth, but I couldn’t lie to my own mind now. I wanted this woman, and even if I’d never act on that desire, I had to acknowledge the l
onging in my innermost heart or go mad.
“Wonderful.” She turned and began to head back the way we’d come. Within a few minutes, we were on the crowded sidewalks again. I matched my stride to Sarah’s, focusing on staying even with her and fighting off the urge to take her hand in mine.
She said something, but I missed it, thanks to a swell of music that rose from a nearby bar.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”
Sarah raised her voice. “I said, how’s the farm coming? Were you able to get settled in over the summer, between camps and everything?”
“Yeah, I was. It’s pretty much perfect now.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew my phone, hitting the photo app and bringing up a picture. “This is the front of it, complete with the sappy sign.”
She took my phone, studying the screen carefully. “Gideon, it’s not one bit sappy. It’s gorgeous. You must be so happy and proud.”
“I love it there,” I answered her simply. “It’s exactly what I hoped it would be.”
Sarah beamed. “Pretty cool, isn’t it, that both of us ended up doing something to change our lives after our talk back in January? You wanted to move to a new place, and I wanted to change jobs.” She handed me back my phone. “And here we are.”
“True.” I thought about everything we’d discussed that evening that felt so long ago now, everything we’d shared that night, while at the same time, I tried not to remember what had come after the conversation.
“Oh, hey. Guess what?” She turned to look up at me, and the sheer wattage of her smile almost made me stumble. “I’m coming home for the holidays.”
Sway (Keeping Score Book 6) Page 15
