Play Maker

by KB Winters

  She smiled. “No, I don’t mind. It’s a long story, but the nutshell version is that I believe they stack the system against certain people, and I want to be a voice of reason in the madness.” The tone of her voice was fused with passion and an edge of anger. “I’ve seen firsthand what it can do to innocent people’s lives when no one is fighting for real justice and truth.”

  I leaned back in my seat as though her strong words had blasted me back a few inches. “I think that’s very admirable, Shelby. I’d love to hear the long version of that story sometime.”

  She nodded but didn’t launch into it, so I dropped it. “So, you’ll be staying here in town then?”

  “Yeah. I’m waiting for my results from the bar association. I should have had them over a month ago; I’ve already lined up a job in the office downtown. Not too far from here, actually. I’ve called the bar, and they kept giving me the runaround. The last time I called, they found my file and said they’d process it immediately, so now it’s just a waiting game—although at least I know it’s being worked on. And embarrassingly enough, I’m still at my parent's. I’ll be looking for a place of my own as soon as I can. What about you? You staying in Bitsberg after this season?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. Another unpleasant topic. She sure had a knack for unearthing things I didn’t necessarily want to delve into. “Actually, I’m in limbo right now. I guess it’ll depend on how the postseason shakes out. My contract could be extended, or they could cut me. And if that happens, I don’t know where I’ll end up. A four-year quarterback with no real experience in the game has limited options.”

  Shelby smiled as she raised her wineglass to her lips. “Then it’s a damn good thing you kicked ass tonight, isn’t it?”

  9

  Shelby

  I couldn’t pin that man down. One minute, he was all bedroom eyes and wandering glances. The next, he was quiet and reserved, almost like a turtle retreating into his shell. A shell I desperately wanted to break through. Throughout dinner, we meandered through a handful of topics; his career, my hopes for my own, and exchanged stories from our time in college. We never circled back to talking about his family, which only made me more curious about who he really was and where he came from.

  By the time the server dropped off the check, it was nearly midnight. Ross quickly picked up the tab, and I bundled back into my coat, preparing for the icy blast that had only gotten worse since we stepped into the restaurant. I pulled on my gloves and tugged up the collar of my coat. “Thank you for dinner. It was great,” I said as he ushered me through the deserted restaurant. The staff all waved goodbye as we went, likely relieved to be able to break everything down and go home. I hoped they all had snow tires.

  Ross pulled open the front door, and we both jolted at the frosty air that poured into the foyer. “Yikes.” He flicked a button on his keys, and I heard the truck roar to life. “Keyless start,” he explained. “Gotta warm her up in this weather.”

  “Ready to make a break for it?” I asked, grinning up at him.

  “On this ice?” He dropped a glance at my shoes.

  “I can handle it.”

  He flashed a half-cocked grin. “All right, then. Let’s go!”

  We bolted from the restaurant, sliding down the sidewalk, arm in arm in an awkward trot around the side of the building to the parking lot where his truck was parked.

  We slid across the black ice to the passenger side. Ross steadied me and opened the passenger door. “Ladies first.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hopping into the cab. It was barely heating up, and I placed my gloved hands over the vents as a blast of warm air came sputtering out.

  Ross jumped into the driver’s side and flicked a couple of switches. “Heated seats too.”

  I laughed. Apparently, riding the bench paid pretty well.

  We sat there, idling, as we waited for the fog and frost to clear from the windshield. “You gonna be okay to drive in this?” he asked, turning in his seat to face me.

  I met his eyes, and my mouth went dry. They were a mix between grey and blue, but in the dark, they glittered like they were made of lapis. During the course of dinner, I’d gotten so lost in the conversation and trying to figure out what he was holding back that I’d nearly forgotten how handsome he was.

  But here, alone in the cab of his truck, bathed only in the glow from the security light on the side of the brick building, it jerked me back to reality. I was only inches away from one of the most breathtaking men I’d ever laid eyes on, and the way he was looking at me left little doubt what his intentions were. My doubts and insecurities from outside the locker room had melted away as soon as I’d caught him checking out my ass before I took my seat inside the restaurant.

  I blinked hard, snapping myself out of my dreamy musings. “Um, yeah, yeah—I’ll be fine. My dad’s SUV has snow tires and four-wheel drive.”

  “Would it be too creepy if I followed you home? Just to make sure you don’t have any trouble?”

  “I don’t think that’s creepy. That’s actually pretty sweet. But it’s unnecessary. I will promise to call you when I’m home. How about that?”

  He smiled, but before he responded, I saw a flicker of something pass over his gaze, as if there was another question he wanted to ask me. “All right. How come you didn’t call after that night at the diner?”

  My eyebrows flicked up. Bold question. “Call me old-fashioned,” I said, smirking at him. “But I like to be chased.”

  He laughed, the sound rich and deep, like a good cup of coffee. “Fair enough. Although, in my defense, counselor, I wasn’t sure what your father would think of me asking for your number right there in front of him.”

  I dropped my head back against the seat, and I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped at the thought. “Oh, he probably would have invited you to our family Christmas dinner and put a stocking with your name on it right beside the tree. Probably in Knights’ colors too!”

  Ross laughed with me, and I glanced at the middle of the seat between us, wishing I was closer. The heat was filling the cab, but I wanted to snuggle up against him and feel the warmth of his body against mine. “Noted! Next time I go to the diner, we’ll have to arrange that.”

  I straightened in my seat, suddenly struck by a new thought. “Hey, what are you doing for Christmas? I mean, if you don’t have plans, we’d love to have you.”

  His smile faltered, but he quickly propped it back up. “Are you sure? That seems like a pretty big imposition.”

  I waved a hand. “Not at all. Honestly, we’re very low-key. Aunt Maggie will be there, too. And if you like her sober, you’ll really like her once she’s had a few too many glasses of my mom’s spiked eggnog. She’s a nice little church lady, but when she’s pouring rum, she doesn’t mess around.”

  He let out another light string of laughter, and the tightness in his shoulders melted away. “I’d really like that.”

  “The rum? Or tipsy Aunt Maggie?” I asked with a giggle.

  “Both.” Ross’s eyes went serious, and he reached across the cab to place his hand against the side of my face, resting his thumb on my cheek. “But really, I’d just like to spend as much time with you as possible.”

  There wasn’t enough oxygen in my lungs to reply, but it turned out I didn’t need to. Ross leaned closer and his lips brushed ever-so-softly over mine, turning me into an official pile of mush and butterflies. The kiss was warm and sweet and much too short. He pulled back, leaving his hand on my cheek, and locked his eyes onto mine. “I’m horrible at this kind of thing.”

  I smiled. “No. I can assure you, you’re not.”

  He chuckled before taking a deep breath. “I mean, asking a girl out. I’m not Mr. Sauvé, but I’m also not some asshat who’s going to break your heart should you even entrust me with it.”

  I felt my eyes go wide. For a guy who claimed to not know what he was doing, he did it quite well.

  “I really like hanging out with you, Shelby. I kn
ow we just met, but you’re fun. And you’re not afraid of this God-awful weather. Oh,” he put his finger up in an aha moment gesture, “and you’re hella smart.”

  My cheeks heated up at his compliment. “Thank you. I like hanging out with you too.”

  I tipped my chin up, quickly meeting his lips again. This time, the kiss lingered. His lips tentatively explored mine at first, but when I opened up to him, his velvet smooth tongue wasted no time sweeping the curves of my lips and tangling with my own in a gentle dance that set every nerve on fire. Ross’s hand slipped from the side of my face and slid down my arm until he found my waist. He tugged me closer, across the center seat, until I was lost in his arms, the kiss getting even deeper as our bodies smooshed together. A soft moan escaped my lips as he moved his mouth to explore the side of my neck.

  “You’re amazing, Shelby,” he said, his words a warm whisper against my skin. “And beautiful,” he added. His warm hand roamed over my hips, squeezing lightly, and I blinked a few times, desperately trying to clear the fuzzy stars from behind my eyes.

  I cleared my throat and pulled away, bracing my hands against his rock-solid chest to put some space between us. Mostly to keep me from jumping onto his lap and impaling myself on his cock.

  Ross met my eyes, his own looking even darker than before as they went wide under the soft lights from the dash. “Let’s get you to your car.”

  “Good plan,” I said, my words wavering as I caught my breath.

  Going slow with a guy like Ross was going to be torture, but I needed not to lose my head and, in the process, get my heart trampled over.

  I sneaked in through the front door of my parents’ house at a little after one in the morning. I shut the door gently behind me, made sure the security system didn’t go off, and tiptoed to my bedroom. I’d made it halfway there before the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the hallway stopped me cold. With a wince, I pivoted on my heels and spotted my mother in her long terry cloth bathrobe, her long hair piled up on top of her head and her rectangular framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Hi, Mom.”

  She arched a perfectly manicured brow. “How was the game?”

  “Despite the fact that I felt like I’d been sucked into a time warp back to my junior year of high school? It was great. Really exciting. And cold.”

  My mom laughed. “All right, tell me what’s going on with you and this boy.”

  I started to protest, but she shot me one of her famous mother-knows-best looks and reached an arm out. “Come on. I just made some hot cocoa.”

  We went into the kitchen where the electric kettle was still steaming. I sat on one of the three wooden stools at the kitchen island as my mom made two cups of instant cocoa. She pushed one across to me, and I smiled down at the sprinkling of miniature marshmallows she’d placed in the foamy chocolate. “Really trying to butter me up here, huh?” I asked, pursing my lips as I waited for an inevitable onslaught of questions.

  She smiled and sipped at her own mug as she leaned back against the counter, clearly beating me at my own game by patiently waiting for me to break the silence.

  “I don’t know what there is to say. He’s a really nice guy. It’s almost weird how normal he seems.”

  “Seems?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. When we first met at the diner, I didn’t know he was a football player. You know me, I’m not the type to date the jock or whatever. It’s never been my thing. My type.”

  “But?”

  A smile tugged at my lips, and I stifled it with a long sip of my cocoa. “Ross’s kind of amazing.”

  “Uh oh,” my mom replied, grinning at me even as she slowly shook her head. “You’re a goner. As soon as you start throwing around words like amazing, I know it’s serious.”

  I laughed and set my mug down. “How could it be serious? We just met. We went on one date.”

  “Your father and I only dated for three months before he proposed. Sometimes you just know.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, this isn’t like that. I’m not looking for a husband. I’m not even looking for a boyfriend right now. I have so much going on. I don’t see how I could add one more thing.”

  “There’s always time, dear. You’re far too young to be too busy for relationships and dates and love.”

  I shrugged. She was probably right, but since getting admitted to law school, I hadn’t hit the brakes. “I want to get my job secured first. Build a routine that works for me. Then I can think about inviting someone else in to share it all with. I mean, what happens if I get my test results and find out I didn’t pass? Then I’d have to go back to studying around the clock, and I’d have to start my job hunt all over again. My position at the public defender’s office is based on the contingency that I pass. If I don’t, they won’t hold it for me. They can’t.”

  My mom set her mug down. “Sweetheart, you worry too much.”

  It was a common complaint from her and my dad. According to them, I’d been three going on thirty and had never really stopped trying to be a few decades ahead of myself.

  “Maybe,” I conceded, staring at the contents of my mug. “I kinda invited Ross to Christmas dinner.”

  “You did?” Her tone wasn’t upset, more shocked.

  “He doesn’t have family in the area, and I hated the idea of him being all alone on Christmas.” I didn’t want to say too much about his family, granted I didn’t know all that much to begin with. “I hope it’s okay,” I said, peeking up at her.

  She smiled. “Of course, it’s okay. You know we always make too much food. I’m happy for you.”

  “Well, don’t go picking out wedding dresses and china patterns just yet,” I said, swirling my cup. “It’s early.”

  My mom finished her cocoa, deposited her mug in the sink, and came around to give me a quick hug. “I know, but I have a good feeling about this one.”

  She dropped a kiss on my forehead and swept from the room, leaving me alone with my cocoa and a whole lot of questions rolling around in my head.

  10

  Shelby

  I woke up on Christmas morning in a mood that was more fitting for a small child, bursting with excitement over the prospect of finding whatever Santa might have left in their stocking. Ross wouldn’t arrive for several hours, but I wasted no time getting ready. When I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, both of my parents did a double-take.

  My mom craned her neck from her place at the small kitchen island to check the large clock above the pantry door.

  I laughed. “Yes, I know, it’s early.”

  “Are you wearing false eyelashes?” she whispered, leaning closer to peer up at me as I rounded the island to grab a cup of coffee.

  “Maybe.”

  My dad laughed from behind his newspaper.

  I filled a mug, added a splash of cream from the ceramic cow by the stove, and leaned back against the counter. I held the steaming cup in between both hands, my freshly manicured nails tapping at the sides. “All right, spit it out.”

  “Nothing, pumpkin,” he said.

  I wasn’t convinced. I planted a fist on my hip and tried again. “Come on. What are you thinking?”

  He lowered the paper and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I think you look beautiful.”

  My cheeks went red and my hand slipped from my hip. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “So, what time is Ross getting here?” my mom asked on her way to the sink. “I’ll be putting the roast in the oven in a couple of hours. After that, I’ll need help getting the side dishes and rolls ready.”

  “No problem.”

  “You sure you wanna do all that in those heels?” she asked, dropping a pointed look at the pumps on my feet.

  “I’ll trade them out for slippers,” I said, giving a roll of my eyes.

  The doorbell rang, and my dad hopped down from his perch. “That’ll be Mags,” he said, starting for the front of the house.

  My mom waited unti
l he was out of sight and then groaned as she sank down to grab something from the cupboard by the stove. She came up with a bottle of Irish cream and poured a generous amount into her coffee. “Guess we’re starting early today,” she mumbled, replacing the cap.

  I giggled and patted her on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Merry Christmas!” Aunt Maggie yelled, strutting into the kitchen in a Christmas sweater that featured a 3D reindeer protruding off the front. Every year, her sweaters got worse and worse. I had a hunch she was going to Ugly Sweater parties in all the nearby office buildings and buying them off the victors after they’d claimed their prize. It was the only explanation that made sense.

  “Merry Christmas, Aunt Maggie,” I said, rounding the corner while my mom inhaled her spiked coffee.

  “Good Heavens! Are you going to the opera, Shelby?”

  I laughed and embraced her, the knitted reindeer's nose poking me in the stomach. “No, I just thought it would be fun to dress up a little.”

  “Shelby has a gentleman caller coming to Christmas dinner,” my dad filled in.

  I groaned and gave a total eye roll. “Dad.”

  My mom poured another cup of coffee.

  “A gentleman caller?” Aunt Maggie repeated, her soft blue eyes as wide as Tweety Bird from the old Looney Tunes cartoons.

  “I have a friend coming to dinner,” I said, tossing my long ponytail over my shoulder.

  Aunt Maggie cocked her head and gave me a lingering once-over. A glint took hold in her eyes and a slow smile crossed her lips. “Honey, I might be old, but I know a fuck-me outfit when I see one.”

  “Mags!” my dad barked.

  “Language, please, Maggie,” my mother protested before shoving her nose back into her coffee mug.

  Aunt Maggie threw her hands up in the air. “It’s just a word. Honestly.” the rest of her mutterings faded off as she turned and made her way to the guest bathroom.