Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance

by Jami Davenport

  He held his breath and prayed she didn’t recognize him. Just like old times, Kelsie looked right through him, as if he didn’t exist. Her patent beauty-queen smile was plastered across her perfectly made-up face. Damn, seeing her transported him back to being an awkward teenage boy who only fit in on the football field. Her fake smile reminded him how stupid he’d been to fall for her particular brand of poison. Her perfect face dredged up a shitload of painful emotions.

  Oh, yeah, painful all right. Zach Murphy had fallen in love once and been carried out of the game on a stretcher. He’d stick with football. Football gave him life, while women sucked the life out of him. Football made sense to him. Women didn’t.

  Especially this woman.

  He glanced to either side to see if any of his teammates noticed the fucking bleeding heart dangling on his sleeve. They were too busy staring at Kelsie—she’d always had that effect on men. Well, except for the king of asshole quarterbacks, Tyler Harris. Zach gave Harris a few grudging points for tossing out his womanizer ways and only having eyes for his sassy girlfriend.

  Yet something on Zach’s face must have clued Harris in. Like a hungry hyena catching the scent of wounded prey, Harris’s sharp gaze moved from Zach to Kelsie and back again. The quarterback possessed this uncanny ability to dissect an enemy’s weakness—and despite being teammates, they were enemies. One corner of the fuckhead’s mouth turned up in a knowing smirk. He nodded briefly at Zach and returned to his conversation with his hot little girlfriend, even though Zach knew damn well the jerk kept one eye on him.

  Ignoring Harris, Zach scratched his chin and studied Kelsie. What the hell was the cause of his most humiliating moment in a lifetime of humiliating moments doing here a thousand miles from Texas, invading his territory?

  He blinked a few times and looked again. Really looked beyond the beauty-queen face and body. Something was very wrong with this picture. A loaded tray of drinks teetered precariously on the palm of Kelsie’s raised hand as she moved in and out of the crowd. Rich girl Kel had never worked a real job in her life. Yet, he doubted she was serving drinks just for the unique opportunity to slum with the common folk.

  Damn, maybe his life wasn’t the only thing that’d changed.

  Kelsie scanned the room then did a double take. Their eyes met and crashed with the intensity of a wrong-way collision on I-5. The fake smile faltered. The gliding stopped. She looked around the room as if planning an escape route. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned on the charm, gracing him with her halogen smile—perfect white teeth and hot red lips. Really hot. As if she were happy to see him.

  Bullshit.

  Zach scowled his best don’t-fuck-with-me scowl.

  Kelsie faltered. Her stride went from graceful to jerky. The smile slipped off her face, replaced by what appeared to be panic. She pivoted on her impossibly high heels and fired up the after-burners.

  Oh, no, she wasn’t getting away this easily. Zach jumped to his feet and gave chase, single-mindedly focused on confronting her, something he’d been dying to do since his senior year of high school. Yeah, stupid idea, but he’d never been one for thinking before reacting, a trait which worked well in football, not so well in real life.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes filled with what looked like fear, as if she expected him to do physical damage to her or some stupid-assed thing like that.

  Zach cornered her near the head table. Kelsie changed directions and charged past him. He spun around to follow, refusing to let her off that easily. He clipped her full tray drinks with his elbow. She lurched with the tray, but it was too late. Helpless, Zach watched the disaster happen in slow motion.

  The tray teetered back and forth, as Kelsie desperately fought to gain control. The tray won. Glasses of wine sprayed red, white, and pink across the tablecloth, looking like a tie-dye session gone mad. Goblets shattered. Women screamed as wine drenched expensive evening gowns. The team owner leapt to his feet, his sputtering laced with profanity as red wine coated his custom-tux and white shirt. His spoiled daughter, Veronica, didn’t hold anything back either, loudly insulting the size of Zach’s brain and his dick. Closest to the debacle, the governor’s wife leapt to her feet, her low-cut sequined evening gown hung on her like a limp rag. Red wine and mimosas dribbled down her neck and chest and disappeared in her cleavage. Zach grabbed a napkin and desperately blotted at the wine. In his panic, he swiped the napkin across the plump mounds of her breasts. She screamed as if he’d purposely groped her. HughJack, the team’s head coach, grabbed him and pulled him away.

  “I’m sorry. Oh, fucking hell. I’m so sorry.” Zach wanted to crawl under the nearest boulder.

  “What did you think you were doing?” Coach spoke in that deadly calm, quiet voice that struck fear in the meanest of linemen. Zach preferred HughJack’s ranting and notorious clipboard throwing to that voice.

  “I—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Veronica, still sputtering and looking for blood, turned on Kelsie. “You! How could you be so stupid?”

  “I—I—” Kelsie shoved her fist in her mouth, obviously horrified at the carnage she’d helped cause. She lifted her gaze to Zach’s. Anger blazed in her stormy blue eyes.

  Wait one fucking minute. She blamed him? He hadn’t done one damn thing other than be where he was supposed to be—a charity benefit for a charity whose name he couldn’t even remember. She was the one who didn’t belong here.

  Jerking her gaze away from his, Kelsie dropped to the floor and started wiping up the mess with any napkin she could confiscate from the nearby tables. Several other staff joined in the fray, wiping tables, cleaning up the mess, and comforting wet, angry guests.

  Zach debated on whether or not to fade into the background or make her night that much worse. Once again, she’d made him look like a backwards hick, her special talent.

  A fat, sweating chef with chocolate stains on his white apron waddled out of the kitchen and spoke in a harsh whisper to Kelsie. “You idiot. Did you do this?”

  Kelsie didn’t look up, just worked frantically to clean up the mess. The chef bent down and pointed a pudgy finger in her direction. “You’re fired. Get the hell out of here. I’ll be contacting you for reimbursement for the damages.” He kept his voice low, but Zach heard him.

  Zach stepped forward, a knight not exactly comfortable in his dinner-jacket armor. “Apologize to the lady. It was an accident, and your behavior is abusive.”

  The chef gritted his teeth and spoke loud enough for only Zach to hear. “Who the hell are you? Some dumb jock? You probably beat up your girlfriend on a regular basis. And you accuse me of abuse?”

  Zach exploded and charged. Just before he made contact, two defensive linemen, big suckers, yanked him backward and pinned his arms behind his back. Zach lunged at the fat chef again, dragging the linemen with him. More teammates jumped into the fray and held him back. Several others restrained the chef, who hurled accusations at Zach and Kelsie.

  “Stop it, you dumb shit.” Harris smacked Zach on the arm none too gently. Zach grunted and squinted into the harsh light glaring in his eyes. Someone had a camera trained on him.

  Harris stepped in front of Zach, blocked the cameraman, and faced the furious cook. “Let’s calm down and be civilized. It was an accident.” He spoke in an aside to his teammates. “Let them go.” The men did as Harris ordered. The cook made a move toward Zach but Harris countered it, placing his body between the two dueling men. He put his hand on Zach’s chest and pushed. Zach staggered back a step, reining in his temper.

  He’d done it again. Screwed up in a social situation and dragged the whole team down with him. His new team. The ones who were counting on him to be a leader on and off the field. He’d led them, all right, almost into a brawl.

  Zach released his breath in a whoosh, deflating not just his lungs but his ego. He’d made an ass of himself, embarrassed the team, and even worse, exposed a weakness to Tyler Harris in the name of one high-sch
ool-crush-on-the-mean-girl Kelsie Carrington.

  Zach glanced off to the side where Kelsie stood. She’d shoved her knuckles in her mouth again, a sure sign of her discomfort he remembered from their high school days—not that he’d forgotten a thing about her from back them. Cheerleader. Beauty queen. Rich and spoiled. The meanest of the mean girls. Tell that to a teenage Zach. He’d dragged his sorry ass after her without an ounce of pride, begging for any crumb she’d toss his way. She tossed just enough to keep him on her trail.

  Zach scrubbed his hands over his face. Dropping his arms to his sides, he turned to Kelsie.

  Her confidence of a few seconds ago shattered like the goblets on the floor. She hunched over and hugged herself in a gesture of self-protection and flicked a glance in his direction. Their eyes met for a split second, just enough time to send his stomach into vigorous calisthenics and reduce his already damaged knees to mush.

  Without another word, she fled the room, but not before his foolish heart lunged for her and missed, once again.

  * * * * *

  Blinded by tears, Kelsie dashed for the ballroom doors. While making a run for it, she bumped into another waiter, sentencing a tray of deserts to another appointment with destiny. Banging into the doors, she pushed them open, and sprinted down the hall for the elevator. She braked to a stop and wrenched her ankle in the process. An ominous snap a split second later confirmed the worst. Her last good pair of Manolo Blahniks succumbed to the stress of her fifty-meter dash for freedom. Lurching into the elevator, she stabbed at the lobby button with a now broken fingernail.

  The elevator doors slid shut and wrapped her in a temporary cocoon of safety. She yanked off her heels and clutched them tightly, realizing the broken heel lay somewhere between the ballroom and the elevator.

  Her day couldn’t get worse. Or her life.

  Of all people to witness her humiliation, fate chose Zach Murphy. And the Lumberjacks team owner. And his daughter. And the governor. She’d hit rock bottom, and the one man who hated her guts more than her ex-husband was probably drinking a toast to her downfall.

  She hadn’t seen him in person since high school graduation. Zach the teenager had been intimidating. Zach the man was formidable. He’d put on muscle on top of muscle, grown a few inches, and definitely fine-tuned his intensity to a laser-sharp edge. Shaggy black hair framed his tanned, rugged face. His tight, full lips announced don’t mess with me if living is important to you without him opening his mouth.

  She’d been such a fool. A stupid fool.

  Sure, she’d convinced herself the move to Seattle had to do with finding Zach and atoning for the sins of her past. But who was she kidding? It had nothing to do with Zach, and everything to do with her. Even worse, Zach saw right through her to the selfish, desperate woman underneath. Sweet, kind, bumbling Zach, the only man who’d ever been there for her and never asked a thing in return but friendship. The same man she’d ridiculed and humiliated. And she’d expected a warm, even lukewarm, reception?

  One look at Zach’s face, and Kelsie knew she’d made a grave error in judgment. Zach’s angry frown spoke louder than red paint dripping down a white wall. He would not be her rescuer. He’d resigned from that job years ago and rightfully so. He’d been her last hope for a friendly face in a storm of angry or indifferent ones, and even he didn’t want a thing to do with her.

  The elevator doors opened with a pleasant ping totally in contradiction with her evening. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, Kelsie strode out of the elevator. Alcohol soaked her white shirt and black skirt. Her stocking feet stuck to the cold tile floor of the lobby. She padded out the door into a misty Seattle night and stood on the street, chest heaving and heart racing. At least it was a balmy—for Seattle—seventy degrees, pretty decent weather for early September, so she understood.

  She reached for her purse. Her heart dropped to her bare toes. She’d left her purse and cell phone at the banquet. Not that she had any money in it. She’d spent her last forty dollars on the banquet server clothes. Her stomach rumbled like the Sounder train, reminding her the day’s meal consisted of a couple crackers. She’d hoped to eat at the banquet after the guests were served.

  No Zach.

  No money.

  No job.

  No future.

  And reduced to living in her car.

  She’d sunk low in the past couple months, lower than she’d ever imagined. Yet, staying in her former situation hadn’t been an alternative. She’d rather sleep on a park bench and dumpster dive for dinner.

  Which was exactly what she would be doing.

  The hotel valet eyed her with suspicion. She glanced at her reflection in the window. Her disheveled hair, bare feet, and stained clothes didn’t exactly present a good impression.

  The man walked up to her. “Time to move along. We don’t allow loitering.”

  With a sniff and a toss of her head, Kelsie sauntered off, refusing to let him see her lose it. She walked around the corner to find a nice, quiet place to fall apart. She slumped on a bus stop bench and buried her face in her hands.

  “You left something behind.”

  Wiping her face with her sleeve, Kelsie glanced up to see her purse dangling from the large fingers of the Jacks’ quarterback, Tyler Harris. Tyler was a sleek, graceful deer buck compared to Zach’s more rangy elk. Her Coach purse swayed back and forth in front of her eyes. She snatched it from his hand and cradled it against her chest. This purse would bring her enough from a pawnshop to keep her going for a little while. She’d fled to Seattle to escape her ex’s influence and left everything behind, hoping to find Zach. The only person in her life who’d ever truly liked her for her. She’d found him, all right, and after one look into those angry eyes, she knew she’d made a huge mistake. Zach was not a much-needed ally, he was an enemy.

  “Thank you.” She sniffed and hiccupped a very loud, unladylike hiccup.

  Tyler’s girlfriend, a redheaded pixie, stepped forward, her eyes full of pity and kindness. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  Kelsie chewed on her lower lip. Her pride screamed, “No.” Her practical side kicked pride out of the way and took over. “My car is parked a ways from here.” She choked back another sob. She’d stowed everything she owned in her out-of-gas car parked several blocks away in a defunct business’s parking lot. With her luck, it’d been towed by now.

  “We’ll give you a ride.” Tyler didn’t wait for an answer but started hauling her along with them, shoes and purse clutched in her free hand. She resisted, irritated and fearful at the same time. They were all alike, guys like him and her ex-husband, thinking they could force their will upon her. She hated it, hated the weakness, swore she’d never be under the influence of a man like that again. She might be broke, hungry, and homeless, but she was independent.

  Kelsie folded her long limbs into the miniscule backseat of Tyler’s expensive sports car. His girlfriend turned in her seat. “I’m Lavender. You are?”

  “I’m Kelsie. I’m new to town.”

  Tyler glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression calculating. “I get the impression you and Murphy have a history.”

  Kelsie proceeded with caution, unwilling to divulge too much. “Yes, we knew each other in high school.”

  “Small world, isn’t it?” Lavender spoke with sympathy, as she shot her boyfriend a shut-your-mouth glare.

  “Too small.” Kelsie pointed out her little Chevy Equinox, the lone car in the lot.

  Tyler pulled up beside it. She lunged for the door, hoping he’d just drive off. He didn’t. He got out and waited at the side of her car. He studied the inside, most likely taking in the boxes and suitcases filling it to bulging and the blanket and pillow, sure indications she slept in the car. Her little dog, Scranton, bounced up and down on the seat and yapped.

  “I just moved here from Texas.” Kelsie jumped to explain before he asked more questions.

  “I see.” Tyler nodded slowly and stepped
out of her way. His expression indicated he really did see, which wasn’t good at all.

  “Where are you going now?” Lavender asked.

  Nowhere, except to a pawnshop come morning to get rid of the purse. She didn’t have more than a few dollars in change to her name. “I was hoping to promote my business tonight. Thought maybe Zach might have a few contacts for me.” Squaring her shoulders, she pulled a soggy business card out of her apron pocket and handed it to Tyler.

  He took the sticky card with reluctance and read it out loud, “Finishing School for Real Men, Specializing in Professional Athletes and CEOs, Kelsie Anne Richmond.” Tyler looked up, a slow smile crossing his face. “No kidding? You’re Emily Post for Jocks?”

  Knowing she may never get another chance like this and eager to promote her fledgling business, Kelsie launched into the spiel she’d practiced before serving at the black-tie party. “Yes, I offer a charm school of sorts for athletes, many of whom came from unfortunate backgrounds and never had exposure to manners and proper social behavior.”

  Lavender looked pointedly at Tyler. “Several of your teammates who could use that.”

  “No joke.” Tyler studied the card, as if mulling something over in his mind.

  “Ty, can’t you help her?” Lavender gave Tyler one of those secret looks full of promises that women used on men they loved, and it seemed to work on him.

  Tyler scribbled on the back of the card and handed it back to Kelsie. “Drop by headquarters and ask to speak to this woman. She handles player personnel issues. They just made the final cuts down to the regular roster so wait until later in the week, Thursday or Friday. Tell her I recommended you. I’d bet my last touchdown, she’ll set you up with a few clients.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.” She might be begging, but tough times called for tough measures.

  With a non-committal shrug, Tyler turned back to his car.

  “Bye, Kelsie, it was nice to meet you. I’ll make sure Tyler paves the way with personnel first thing Monday morning.” Lavender tucked something in her hand and hurried after Tyler, who was impatiently tapping his foot as he held the passenger door open. As soon as she got in, he slammed her door and jumped in on his side. With a mighty roar of its engine, the car fishtailed around a corner on squealing tires.