The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  “Seems like overkill, but what the heck.” Piper popped the top on a can of diet root beer. “How will you handle the now-infamous sniffing incident?”

  Infamous? Hardly, Darcy thought, relieved she could laugh.

  “I plan to pretend nothing happened,” Darcy said.

  “Ah, selective amnesia.” Piper chuckled. “What would we do without it?”

  “Never leave the house again?”

  “Bull,” Piper claimed. “You’ve never been one to let something as insignificant as mild embarrassment stop you. Never! Not my balls to the wall, bestie.”

  Darcy had developed thick skin out of necessity. When she was sixteen, she was shocked at how easily people didn’t give a second thought about saying cruel and malicious things to her face. If she had a dollar for all the times she cried her eyes out in a bathroom stall, she would be a wealthy woman.

  “When I became the boss, I thought my days of pretending were over.” Darcy looked at Piper and sighed.

  Sympathetic, Piper curled up next to Darcy—better than any security blanket.

  “Promise me you’ll enjoy your first big business trip as the Knights’ newly minted general manager. Don’t let Joshua McClain or anyone else ruin such a special moment.”

  “McClain doesn’t have the power to hurt me,” Darcy said. “No one does. Don’t forget, I am woman.”

  Nodding, Piper squeezed Darcy’s hand.”

  “Let them hear you roar.”

  Darcy nodded. She wouldn’t let Piper—or herself down. But right now, before they left for the NFL combine, she had to figure out how to communicate with Joshua McClain in a way that didn’t make her head want to explode.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  DARCY ENTERED THE Knights’ practice facility with a plan. She always had a plan. Plans were her specialty.

  After a night of tossing and turning, Darcy knew her best course of action. Trouble was, no matter how meticulously detailed and thought out, every plan had a flaw. Her biggest hurdle? A certain devilish wild card named Joshua McClain.

  By most people’s standards, six-thirty in the morning was early. Not for her. She’d already gone for her daily five-mile run, completed a conference call with an east coast based general manager—laying the groundwork for a future mutually beneficial trade—and charted the team’s business for the next three months.

  Pausing outside the weight room Darcy listened to the sound of metal clanking against metal in a steady rhythm. Apparently, she wasn’t the only early bird.

  Knowing what she wanted in life wasn’t her problem. Not now, not ever. Her dreams formed early and never wavered. Not once. Not when everyone told her she was crazy. Not when she was laughed at, or bullied, or harassed.

  Belief in herself took her down a long, hard road. Darcy stayed the course. Persevered. Now that she’d reached her goal, it wasn’t the time to waver.

  Darcy rubbed her damp palms on her jeans, stiffened her spine, and walked into the room. What she saw, stopped her in her tracks.

  Joshua McClain. She knew he worked out every morning, taking advantage of the Knights’ state of the art facility. Sitting on a leather bench, sweat dripping from his face, bare arms bulging, glistening, he raised then lowered a barbell. Slow and steady.

  As she watched, Darcy’s mind became a blank except for one word. Yum. Exclamation point. Certain she was unobserved, she jumped at the sound of McClain’s voice.

  “Was there something you needed to say, Ms. Stratham?” he asked as he set aside the barbell and reached for a towel. “If not, please leave. I don’t appreciate an audience when I work out.”

  One thing about McClain and his snarky attitude. He knew how to kill a moment. And she was grateful. Really. However, she was human enough to wish he’d kept his mouth shut for a few more minutes and allowed her to enjoy the view.

  “Clear your schedule for this afternoon,” Darcy said. “We have plans.”

  “Ugh.” McClain’s head fell forward. “Can’t I have one day without suffering through a Darcy Stratham induced headache?”

  “Your company doesn’t exactly thrill me, Mr. McClain.” Darcy kept her voice low and even but couldn’t prevent an icy chill from coating each word. “Rather than corner the market in pain relievers, we need to find a way to co-exist.”

  “Mm.” McClain opened a bottle of water, draining the contents. “Can’t argue with your logic.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Darcy said. “From my experience, you’d argue with a blade of grass. It’s just your nature.”

  “Perhaps.” McClain nodded. “Or, your intractability brings out the worst in me.”

  “At this moment, you have no reason to argue with me. And yet, you can’t help yourself.” Darcy sent him a smug smile. “Thank you for proving my point so quickly and succinctly.”

  “I didn’t—” McClain stopped himself when Darcy’s grin widened. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you need the entire afternoon?”

  “Meet me in the parking lot at noon and you’ll find out.”

  Darcy turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

  “Wait,” McClain shouted. “The parking lot? Not your office?”

  “Don’t be late,” Darcy shouted back.

  Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, Darcy patted herself on the back. Something was satisfying about getting in the last word—especially with Joshua McClain.

  Darcy took her phone from her pocket. Finding the number she wanted, she waited.

  “Bison’s Bakery.”

  “Nelle?” Darcy said when a familiar voice answered. “I need a favor.”

  “Ask away,” the woman said. “Your friend Piper Winslow is going to save me a bundle on my taxes this year. I owe you for introducing us.”

  “We’ve known each other a long time,” Darcy reminded her. “Since when do friends keep a tab on favors?”

  “Typical response,” Nelle laughed. “But true. Tell me what you need.”

  “Nothing too onerous,” Darcy assured her. “Just an assortment of your tastiest goodies.”

  “Not a problem. Where should I send the delivery?”

  “Don’t bother,” Darcy said, her mind racing ahead. “I’ll stop by later this morning. Thanks, Nelle.”

  Darcy found Terra at her desk.

  “I won’t be in my office today,” she told her assistant. “If an earthshaking crisis comes up, call me. Otherwise, no interruptions.”

  “Outside the office? All day? Is everything okay?” Terra asked with a worried frown.

  “Just wish me luck. I’m about to attempt something no one has ever done.” Darcy took a deep breath. “I’m going to tame myself a devil.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  MAC WATCHED THROUGH the window as the city disappeared and the landscape turned to nothing but trees and dirt roads. He glanced at Darcy. Suspicious by nature, if he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if she had a nefarious purpose for driving him to hell and gone.

  “Good place to bury a body,” he said under his breath.

  “Think so?” Darcy kept her eyes on the tricky road, but he would have sworn her lips twitched. “Don’t worry, Mr. McClain. Today will not be the day you die.”

  “Could get hit by lightning,” Mac muttered, eyeing the bank of jagged rocks to his right. “Or get buried by an avalanche.”

  “Let me revise my statement. Though the thought has tempted me more than once, you will not die at my hands.” Her lips slowly curved into a smile. “Not today.”

  Mac had to wonder about a woman who joked so casually about murder. And wondered—despite himself—why he felt the need to laugh.

  When Darcy sprang the spur of the moment road trip on him, he would have balked—if she’d given him more than a second to consider the possible consequences of finding himself with her, in a confined space, for any length of time.


  As Mac discovered in their brief but eventful association, Darcy Stratham was a force of nature. When she pulled to a stop next to where he waited in the Knights’ parking lot, rolled down the car window and told him to get in, he opened his mouth to protest. Something in her blue eyes stopped the words from forming.

  Mac barely remembered climbing into the passenger seat of the dark blue SUV. Before he knew what happened, they were out of the city, and on their way to God knew where.

  Surprisingly relaxed, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Now and then, he took a surreptitious deep breath, expecting the scent of rain to assail his senses. He was relieved—and a tiny bit disappointed—when all he smelled was a combination of new car and freshly baked bread.

  Had he imagined that Darcy carried the heady scent of a spring shower in her hair and on her skin? Mac didn’t think so. However, he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. The last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself in front of her—again.

  “You want to share our destination?” he asked as the awkwardness between them slowly melted away. “According to my watch, we left the Knights’ practice facility almost an hour ago.”

  “We’re going on a picnic.”

  “A picnic. For the love of…” Mac sighed. “Are you kidding? If you wanted to eat a meal together, pick someplace civilized. Like a restaurant.”

  “I like the outdoors,” Darcy said. “And the day is perfect. Crisp and clear. Sunshine wherever you look.”

  “A nature lover. I should have known.”

  “What’s wrong with trees and blue skies, Mr. McClain.”

  “I’m a city boy, Ms. Stratham, who doesn’t relish the idea of picking up a wilderness-related pathogen.”

  “And you accused me of showing off my vocabulary skills.” Darcy snorted. “For argument's sake, what kind of arbitrary pathogen concerns you most?”

  “Nothing arbitrary about poison ivy. Or Lyme disease.” Mac made a face. “Tics run rampant in wooded areas.”

  “Not in February.” Darcy shot him a quick look. “Are you a hypochondriac, Mr. McClain?”

  “I’m a realist. Fact. Shit happens.”

  Darcy let out a sound he’d never heard from her before. Bright, uncensored laughter. Mac’s breath caught in his throat; his heart rate spiked. Lord, she was pretty. No, he corrected. Pretty was too gentle a word. As the sun streamed through the window, the light turning her skin to ivory and mixing with the glossy black of her hair to form the illusion of flowing black silk, he wondered if she knew how impossibly beautiful she was.

  “My job is to dilute the shit,” Darcy said.

  Mac nodded, knocking the ludicrous thoughts from his head. Or, he tried. When you were in a confined space with a woman like Darcy Stratham, some of the crazy was bound to linger.

  “Only dilute?” Mac asked, relieved his voice sounded normal to his ears. “You strike me as the kind of woman who won’t settle for anything but a completely crap-free zone.”

  “In a perfect world, you’d be right,” Darcy said as she took a hazardous looking turn in the road without blinking an eye. “I’ve learned to compromise when necessary. Ninety percent of anything is better than nothing at all.”

  “Compromise?” Mac snorted. “I’d love to see me some of that.”

  “Look up the definition of the word, Mr. McClain.” Darcy slowed the SUV to a stop. “Remember. It takes two to tango.”

  “Dancing isn’t my thing,” Mac said as he slid from the passenger seat.

  Darcy walked past him, looking him up and down.

  “I watched you play,” she said as she opened the car’s rear door. “On the field, you were elusive. Nimble and quick. I refuse to believe that anyone capable of zigging and zagging through a swarming defense would have two left feet on the dance floor.”

  A compliment? For him? From the mouth of Darcy Stratham? Mac couldn’t believe his ears.

  “You followed my career?”

  “You can wipe the cocky smile from your face,” Darcy said. “Keeping tabs on the league’s top players was—and is—part of what I do. Naturally, I knew who you were. Joshua McClain was a superstar.”

  “For a brief blink of time,” Mac said with an easy shrug.

  “The average career of an NFL player is two and a half years. Your body lasted through eight seasons at an elite level the entire time.” Darcy handed him a red wicker basket from the back of the car. “Do you miss playing?”

  “Yes.” Mac saw no reason to lie.

  Darcy filled her arms with a blanket and a large black thermos. She took the lead down a narrow path. Following, Mac absently enjoyed the sway of her denim covered hips as he realized today was the first time he’d seen her in anything but a skirt and high heels.

  Casual suits her, Mac thought. Not that Darcy ever looked anything but beautiful. However, with her hair held back by a simple black barrette, and dressed in well-used hiking boots, blue jeans, and brown leather bomber jacket, she possessed a relaxed, easy style he hadn’t seen before.

  After several minutes, they came to a small, grass-covered meadow.

  “Here we are.” Darcy took a moment to raise her face to the sun and sigh. “Be honest. Isn’t the air sweeter outside the city?”

  Mac was reluctant to move too far from his anti-nature stance. Besides, a kind of grumbling banter had become their thing. Who was he to break the cycle?

  “Ever heard of oxygen overload?” he asked. “Too much of anything isn’t good.”

  “Stop,” Darcy said with an amused snort. “I noticed your smile as we walked through the woods. Tell the truth. You enjoyed the view.”

  What would Darcy say if Mac told her the only thing he’d noticed was her and the way her ass filled out her jeans? Something told him the information wouldn’t go over well.

  “I’ve had worse experiences,” Mac told her.

  “Mm.” Darcy shook her head. “Do you ever give an inch?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Mac said. “By my estimation, I gave you around twenty miles.”

  “Clever.” Darcy laughed. Biting her lip, she sobered. “When your knee gave out and the doctors said your career was over, were you bitter?”

  Mac watched as Darcy spread the blanket under a tree. Setting down the picnic basket, he gave her question some thought.

  “At first, I was numb. In denial.” Mac frowned. “Injuries happen to athletes all the time—obviously. However, after playing for so long without suffering more than the prerequisite bumps and bruises that are part of the game, I assumed my career would end on my terms. Instead, I was forced out.”

  Mac didn’t expect Darcy to understand. How could she when she’d never known the thrill of battle? He couldn’t explain the joy of victory or the way a gut-wrenching defeat stayed with you for the rest of your life.

  Yet when Mac looked into Darcy’s eyes, he felt her empathy wash over him like a cool balm.

  Where were you when I hit my lowest point? Mac caught himself before he asked Darcy such a ridiculous question. But he couldn’t help but wonder. If he’d known her then, would her gentle smile or gentle touch have lessened the pain of losing his career?

  “I was bitter,” Mac said. “If an old friend hadn’t offered me a coaching job, I can’t say where I’d be right now.”

  “You’re lucky,” Darcy said. She knelt and opened the basket.

  Mac joined her on the blanket.

  “Don’t you feel lucky to be where you are?”

  The second Mac asked the question, he wanted to take it back. Though he didn’t want to start an argument, Darcy would be justified if she interpreted his words to mean she hadn’t earned her job as the Knights’ general manager. Once again, she surprised him. Instead of taking offense, her answer was calm and thoughtful.

  “I didn’t have any friends in football when I started,” she said and smiled. “Truth be told, I can’t say I have many now.”

  “You
have Riley Preston,” Mac pointed out. “And Gaige Benson sings your praises.”

  “Does he?” Darcy looked pleased. “Don’t get me wrong, I know there are people in my corner. Before Riley put her trust in me, my bosses were all men. Some looked past my sex, others, not so much.”

  Mac’s stomach clenched. Darcy meant she was harassed. Her story wasn’t new—unfortunately. But he couldn’t help but wonder about the indignities she endured to achieve her dream.

  “Should I ask?”

  “What would be the point,” she said. “My experiences were mild compared to what others have suffered. Think about the first women reporters who were allowed in the men’s locker rooms. They were bullied. Brutalized. Called names that make me cringe—and believe me, I’ve heard it all.”

  “A lot of high paying, powerful jobs exist out there. Why football when you knew the odds were so far against you?” Mac asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t be glib,” he said.

  “I’m serious.” Darcy met his gaze. “From the moment Eve was told not to eat the apple, women have pushed the boundaries of what society told them they could and couldn’t do.”

  “I didn’t expect you to go way back to biblical times to make your point.” Mac smiled, enjoying the complexity of Darcy’s active mind. “Continue. I’m with you.”

  “Let me give you an example you can relate to,” Darcy said. “If you’d been told you weren’t allowed to play football for what you thought was an arbitrary reason. Something that had nothing to do with your abilities. Would you have listened? Quit? Found a different path? Or would you have fought, tooth and nail, for what you wanted? For your dream.”

  Mac grew up without enough money, enough food. Sometimes without a roof over his head. Without the love or support of his parents. Football had been his way out. Damn straight he would have fought. Tooth and nail, with his last breath.

  “You’re very good.”

  “Am I?” Darcy asked with a half-smile. “I agree. But what did I do to win you over?”

  “I didn’t say you’d won me over.” Mac chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s still early days. However…”