Last Play: Book 1 The Last Play Series

by Hart, Taylor

  It was unusual for him not to check his phone every couple of minutes. Or check facebook or twitter or some news report. But he hadn’t today. He’d turned off his phone at lunch, and he hadn’t bothered to turn it back on.

  The fact that he’d been so consumed with coming to Wolfe Creek and getting the Alaskan sold felt like something from a long time ago. It seemed less important now. It was more important to make sure Katie was taken care of in that contract.

  He could keep it if he had to.

  The thought had crossed his mind over the past couple of days, but he’d always rejected it. The only thing that would be hard was if he had to see Katie ‘officially’ dating Lou when he came for visits. She and Lou would get married, have some kids …. He had to quit thinking along those lines or else he would get really depressed. Plus, even if it hurt, he would do it for Katie.

  After getting out of the hot tub, taking a long shower, he began looking for his clothes bag.

  Folded nicely on the bed were all his clothes he’d worn. There was a note on top of them. “Thought Katie would be working you. Mrs. K.”

  Warmth flooded him. This lady, that was battling cancer, was doing his laundry just to help him. For some insane reason, tears filled his eyes. She’d insisted he couldn’t pay her for cooking and now this. What had Katie said about her the other day? That Mrs. K needed a miracle, and it broke her heart to think she might not get one.

  Putting on the clothes, he held onto her note and then pushed it into his wallet, making a decision to have money wired to her account when he got back. “You never know when miracles show up, Mrs. K.”

  He put on heavy socks and went downstairs. He knew there were leftovers in the fridge, but he wanted to sit by the fire for a bit. He’d started it before he’d gotten into the hot tub and now he put on another log on.

  Sitting on the couch, he reflected how nice it had been to check out of the media for a bit. To just … live in the moment. He thought about what Katie had said earlier, about how next time it could be his neck. She’d been right. It could be. It was the fear that stayed on the edges of all football players—that they would get hurt and not be able to play any longer. She’d been right about the fact that he did have plenty of money. He had also been buying up car dealerships and real estate. If there had been anything he’d learned growing up poor, it was that he never wanted to be poor again.

  But he did love the game. The competition was the thing that kept him pushing himself the past six months after the injury. He liked being the best. He liked the media attention. Well, he thought of Sheena, maybe he didn’t like it as much anymore.

  He felt different. Not just from his uncle passing, but also from being here the past few days. He felt like he’d had a snapshot of what close to normal might be able to be.

  He leaned forward and held out his hands to the fire, ignoring the tugging hunger inside him. He wished Katie were here. Then he felt bad for wishing it. She needed to be alone. He got that. She missed her husband. Missed someone who had built a life with her—through sweat and worry and with love. An ache burned into him. She’d had love. That’s why she’d had a hard time getting out of bed. Why she’d had to see a therapist. Because she knew what real love was.

  A tear went down his cheek. It wasn’t pity that he felt for the relationship he’d had with Sheena. No. It had been stupidity on his part. Sheena had never pretended to be something other than she was. She had never pretended to be like Katie. It was him that had been different. That felt different now.

  Out of nowhere, there was a knock at the door.

  Chapter 16

  Padding across the floor, his heart raced. It could be Mrs. K, but somehow he knew it wasn’t. Right or wrong, he hoped it was Katie. He pushed the door back.

  There she stood in her Carhartt suit with her red hair in soft curls spilling out of the hat. She pointed to her lips. “I don’t know why I put on lipstick, so don’t ask.”

  “Hey.” He didn’t know what to say, how to act. She was emotionally fragile, and this was the date of her husband’s death.

  Pushing inside, she shoved a bag into his arms. “You shouldn’t stand there and hold the door open. Don’t you know it’s cold out there?”

  He backed up, shaken from his daze and took the bag. “Hey.”

  She pulled off her snow clothes and hung them up, tugging off her hat. Her cheeks were rosy, and he closed his eyes for a second and inhaled her lemon scent.

  Hesitating next to him, she lifted her brow and shrugged. “I thought you might need dinner.” She took the bag back and moved toward the kitchen.

  He followed and watched how she pulled out a couple of foil-covered containers: salad, chicken, and rice that smelled incredible. He couldn’t deny he was hungry, but the hunger he felt wasn’t just for food. No. Once he’d seen her at the door, another hunger had stirred inside of him.

  She ignored him, setting the table for two. Lighting two candles. She glanced back at him. “Will you light the fire in here?”

  He did as he was told, his hands shaking. He didn’t know what was going on, but all he could say was that it was something bigger than him. That’s all he knew.

  She waited at the table, and he noticed she wore a green, emerald turtleneck. With the red hair and lipstick, she looked like a model. Not Sheena kind of model—too perfect, overly done up—no, she looked like an American Girl doll. Pretty. Innocent. Happy.

  “Sit,” she commanded.

  He sat.

  After sitting, she picked up her fork. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  He started eating, not knowing why he was so nervous.

  “You haven’t said a word,” she said.

  His throat felt dry. He took a sip of water. “Thank you, this looks great.”

  She grinned and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  He thought, again, how she was attractive without trying to be. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered without knowing why.

  She watched him eating then took a sip of water. “I sat at my kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. Uneaten. I mean, why should I cook if it was just me, right? A night off. Then I realized something.”

  He put his fork down. “What?”

  She put her hand on top of his. “I didn’t want to be alone right now.”

  His heart pounded inside his chest. What was happening?

  She laughed. “Don’t give me that look, I’m not throwing myself at you or anything.”

  “I didn’t think that,” he answered too quickly.

  She laughed harder and pulled her hand back to take a sip of water and wipe her mouth. “Yes, you did.”

  He laughed, too. “Okay, maybe I did, but I wouldn’t have let you.”

  A look of disbelief washed over her face. “You wouldn’t have let me?”

  A serious ache formed into his gut. “No, I wouldn’t have let you tonight.”

  She sobered and blinked. “Thank you. I just didn’t want to sit there by myself. I thought …” she broke off and shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Gently, he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “You thought right.”

  She smiled, and how long they stared at each other, he didn’t know. But he did know that he’d been right earlier. Somehow, by destiny or fate, or he’d been brought to the Alaskan Inn to meet Katie Winters.

  She teased him about smelling so good, and he teased her about smelling like lemon.

  “That’s my splurge, I get that lotion when I go into Ogden. It makes me feel feminine.”

  For some reason, seeing her so vulnerable, her hand in his, made his desire to kiss her go, on a scale of zero to ten, from a strong eight to an eleven or twelve. “You don’t need the lotion to be feminine.”

  They cleaned up, and then he offered to make some of the cocoa that he’d found on the counter. He knew it had to be left from Mrs. K.

  “The great Roman Young makes hot cocoa?” She teased him as she put the dishes back into the cupboard.


  He tsked his tongue and pulled out some mugs and filled them with hot water from the microwave. “Are you kidding? You’re going to get a Young specialty.”

  “Okay.” Katie laughed, and they took their mugs and moved into the living room.

  He saw the football on the table in the front room. “Don’t forget that for Josh.”

  She picked it up, and tears came to her eyes. “The one you gave Jim?”

  He nodded. “It’s from my first season when I took them to the championship game. It’s a collector’s item.”

  “Thank you.”

  The sun had gone down, and they went to the couch. He got one of the heavy quilts and put it over their legs.

  She sipped the cocoa. “It’s good.”

  He grinned and sipped his own. “It is good.”

  Looking at the walls, she let out a breath. “I’m thinking when we remodel this room, we keep some things.”

  He shrugged and gestured with the cup to the mantel of the fireplace. “Like that old rifle? No, I say take it all down. Get rid of it all and buy new stuff.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You do know that that gun belonged to … let’s see … your great, great, great, great grandfather that fought in the Civil War.”

  The fact she knew more about his history than he did didn’t surprise him. “I didn’t know that.”

  Shaking her head, she smiled. “Plus, it was important to Jim. That’s enough reason to keep it.”

  Then he reached for her hand. “Then we’ll keep it.”

  She grinned. “We’re agreed then.”

  “Did I ever have a choice?”

  She laughed.

  He couldn’t explain how much he wanted to be with her, but how much more important it was for him to be there for her tonight. This was her husband’s night. Tonight, he would be her friend. So he asked about him. About them.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  He did. “Of course.”

  So she told him. About growing up together. Falling in love their senior year. Marrying right out of high school and leveraging everything to buy the farm.

  She sighed. “We made a good team. I was good at keeping the finances organized. He was good with the animals, and we both worked hard.” She looked suddenly sad.

  He tried to lighten it. “I can see you being good at being organized … or bossy.” He took another sip.

  She blinked back tears. “I loved him so much, but …” She looked away from him. “The last couple of days with you it’s been …” She stopped and shook her head.

  Carefully, he put down his cocoa and reached up and touched her hair. “What?”

  She put down her cocoa and took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Is it bad that I wanted to kiss you last night?” She sucked in a breath. “I’m sad to lose him, I’ve mourned him for a year, but … I can’t deny these feelings for you.”

  He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t lean forward. He wouldn’t do the only thing he’d been thinking about all evening. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

  “Pansy.”

  His eyes flicked open. “What?”

  “You’re afraid.”

  This was unbelievable. “Of what?”

  “Kissing me.” She put her chin out in that challenging way.

  He broke off, laughing. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

  “Well, then you tell me, QB.”

  The fact that his heart rate sped up, like he was about to throw a pass, did not mean a thing. “It’s his day,” he whispered.

  Katie stayed almost nose-to-nose with him. She stared into his eyes. “I know … and I know I shouldn’t want this.”

  “But you do?”

  She blinked, and a tear fell down her cheek. “I want you to kiss me. That’s all I know.”

  He leaned forward. His lips touched hers softly. So softly it could have been a whisper. But he was startled when she put her arms gently around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Her hands ran through his hair, lighting small fires everywhere she touched.

  Within the duration of that kiss his whole life passed before him. The life he could have here. With her. With Josh. With, he was shocked to see, a passel of kids around them. They were here in this inn—welcoming families. Possibly skiing together, sledding, going out to the diner, snuggled up by the fire on cold nights.

  Then she pulled back, dragging him back to real life.

  The side of her lip tugged up. “You have lipstick all over your face.” She jumped up. “Let me get you a towel.”

  Putting his hands on her hips, he tugged her back down. “Huh, uh.”

  She fell into him, giggling. “Sheesh.”

  He pressed his lips back to her. “I like lipstick all over my face.” He lifted his head back to get a view of her face. “Hey, you have lipstick all over your face, too.”

  She giggled, and he kissed her more, pulling her closer, relishing the smell of lemon.

  The next thing he knew, he had his hand on her cheek and was gently tracing her jawbone.

  She tugged back. “I’m sure glad I didn’t shoot you the other night.”

  He laughed and gently kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot me, too.”

  He got up and put another log on the fire and then went back and snuggled back into her arms, just holding her close. It felt amazing. He never wanted to leave this place.

  “So, how did that play go?”

  He caught the teasing look on her face, and he grinned. “I’d say we definitely made a first down.”

  “Oh yeah?” she challenged.

  “Well,” he caressed her neck and gave her a little kiss on the lips. “But remember every play has to be considered, thought out, fought for.” He kissed her again.

  She giggled. “Well, don’t be thinking you’ll move that ball too far, Mr. Young.”

  He kissed her again. “You mean because of Lou.”

  After jerking back, she laughed even harder. “Whatever.”

  Pulling her forward, he gave her another soft kiss. “Tell me, how many kisses has he gotten in?”

  A roll of laughter rushed out of her. “And now you’ve revealed yourself as just another competitive jock.”

  “Hey.” He yanked back, slightly offended. “I do not consider you a game. This is not a game to me.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I’m going to be real honest with you, Roman. I don’t know if my heart can take it if it’s not real.”

  He gently kissed her, pushing her hair back. “Well, then let’s do as Uncle Jim always said. Let’s look at every chance we’re together like it could determine the rest of the game. Let’s make it good.”

  She wagged her finger. “But no touchdowns, yet.” Another blush.

  He grinned. “No, we’ll save that part.”

  “You’re a good man, Roman Young, even if you’ve distracted me out of work the past two days.”

  He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed. “It’s okay.”

  As they watched the fire and held hands, and he was filled with more hope and more love and more joy in that one moment than he’d been in his entire life.

  Then, there was another knock at the door.

  Chapter 17

  Roman was stunned to see two men at the door. One man was holding a briefcase with an overcoat and a hat on his head. He knew who it was, and he felt like someone had slammed him in the gut.

  The man pushed forward and waved the other man in. “Mr. Young.” He stuck his hand out to shake, completely out of breath. “I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get here. The weather here is so unpredictable, and I couldn’t get a hold of you all day to let you know that I was bringing the new owner with me. Meet Mr. Stone. He’s from back east, but he jumped at the chance to get this Inn.” The man was clearly nervous and talking too fast.

  Roman didn’t have a chance to get a word out before Katie had popped up off the couch, her re
d hair already rising off of her like a fierce tornado getting ready to strike. “What?”

  “Katie—”

  Roman moved toward her, trying to take her hand, but she yanked it away and was already squaring off in front of the attorney and the other man.

  “You’re the new owner?” She accused them and then flung back to Roman. “You never planned to keep it?”

  If the look of betrayal on her face at that moment could have been bottled and used against an army, Roman was sure one bottle of it alone could have stopped the Crusades.

  “Wait, just listen!”

  But she was already pulling on her snow clothes and pushing her pom pom hat down onto her head. “Don’t.” Her voice had that severe edge to it. The same edge she’d used the first time he’d met her.

  “Katie, just stop and listen, please.”

  Mr. Burcher didn’t take a hint, instead he began rambling, “Well, I do have it right, Mr. Young? You did want the new owner here as quick as you could—didn’t you? I know you have to get back for the owner’s meeting tomorrow, your agent called me pretty insistent that we get this deal done.”

  Katie pushed past them, then stopped and turned back, her beautiful eyes sad and hurt and vulnerable for a second. She glared at Roman. “Yes, why don’t you get the deal done and then get back to your real life, Mr. Young.”

  Before he knew what’d happened, she was off on the snowmobile, flying down the road.

  “Mr. Young? Is everything okay?” Mr. Burcher pressed.

  It took nearly five minutes to explain the situation to Mr. Burcher and Mr. Stone. Truth be told Roman knew he should feel bad that Mr. Stone had flown all the way out to make the deal happen, but as he put on his snow clothes and took off after Katie, he could only feel one thing…

  Remorse.

  That he hadn’t told her from the beginning. That he’d selfishly wanted to spend time with her. Then when he’d decided he could keep it, he hadn’t taken the time to call poor Mr. Burcher and let him know the change of plans.