Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance

by Jami Davenport

  “Life’s too short to hold grudges. Maybe you can help him work on that?”

  “I’m the last person to give him advice on that subject. He hates me.”

  “He might hate being attracted to you, but he doesn’t hate you.”

  “I almost destroyed him in high school. When he was at his lowest point and just needed a friend, I offered friendship just to help my friends bully and ridicule him.”

  “You don’t seem like that type of person.”

  “I was. If one good thing has come of my circumstances the past ten years, it’s that I’ve developed empathy for people other than myself. I’ve put the mean girl to rest for good.”

  “After the game, you can tell us the entire story while we’re waiting for the guys.” Lavender licked her lips and wadded up the napkin.

  “Starting with high school and ending with why you’re here.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Maybe not, but you could use a few friends, and we’re here.”

  “Then we’ll come up with a plan to get those two hard-headed men to cooperate with each other instead of butting heads.”

  Kelsie looked from one to the other, seeing nothing but earnest sincerity on their faces. She nodded, knowing that once she let that proverbial cat out of its crate, it’d never go back in again.

  * * * * *

  Zach stalked the sidelines, shouting encouragement to the Jacks’ offense and berating the opposing team’s defense. The O-line kept caving, allowing Harris to be sacked three times, yet they were still ahead by three points no thanks to Zach with a few minutes left to play.

  He hadn’t been his usual single-minded self. As soon as he’d spotted Kelsie sitting a few rows behind the bench with Rachel and Lavender, he’d been distracted. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the game, her gaze burned into his back like a hot summer sun. As a result, he played one of his worst games in years. He made too many mistakes, misread the offense and fucked up his defensive audibles, resulting in too many big gains for the offense. His tackling was sloppy and a step off. Stupid fucking rookie mistakes, and Zach was no rookie.

  Three and out, the offense came back to the bench. After the punt, Zach strapped on his helmet and went back to the trenches. He checked the offense and called a change in formation for the defense to blitz. He got down in his set formation and waited for the snap of the ball. The ball snapped, and he anticipated a run. He stepped sideways, assuming the running back would be coming his way. As a result, he left the middle of the field open. A second later, the Packers tight end caught a ball in the middle of the field and galloped twenty-five yards for a touchdown and the win.

  Game over. The Jacks dropped to two wins, three losses. Not a pretty picture.

  Zach stood under the showers for several minutes, but he couldn’t wash off the stench of defeat. His teammates avoided him, giving him a wide berth. Zach toweled off, wrapped the towel around his waist and walked into an unusually quiet locker room.

  Harris stood at the locker next to him, talking quietly to a few reporters. They glanced Zach’s way but his murderous glower stopped them as sure as a prison wall separated the innocent from the guilty. And Zach was guilty as hell of a piss-poor game.

  Several minutes later, the reporters left, the locker room cleared out except for a few stragglers. But Zach made no move to leave. He slumped on the bench, propped his elbows on his thighs, cupped his chin in his hands, staring at his locker, but not seeing it. He’d lost the game for them, not just on that last play, but on overall crappy play throughout the whole, frigging game.

  “Tough game, but we’re still in a good position to win the division. The season is young.” Tomcat slapped him on the back and moved on to his locker, not expecting an answer.

  Bruiser strutted by in wrinkle-free slacks and a blazer with a polo shirt. The blond surfer boy dressed like he’d walked off the pages of a fucking Nordstrom catalog. Zach didn’t care much for Bruiser’s stylin’ and profilin’ as the kid liked to call it, but he appreciated how hard the back played. Despite his pretty boy appearance, Bruiser deserved his nickname and reputation as one of the toughest backs in the league.

  Bruiser paused next to Zach’s locker. “Hey, man, you played a hard game.”

  “I played a piss-poor game.”

  Bruiser shrugged one shoulder and wandered off, probably had a hot date with his mirror.

  Behind Zach, Harris cleared his throat. The quarterback was in as foul of a mood as Zach. In fact, the heat of his gaze scorched the back of Zach’s skull like a desert sun burns a bald head. Zach glanced at Harris, but the guy now had his back to him and was digging through his locker as if he’d lost something. Maybe his guts? His fighting instinct? His no-quit attitude? Oh, yeah, he’d lost that last year. This year the QB managed to fake interest in the game.

  Zach ran a hand through his thick hair. As if he should talk. He played like a rookie today. At least Harris hadn’t made any glaring mistakes, even if his play was uninspired. Zach hated losing, and for once it was on him as much as Harris.

  Irritated, Zach itched for a fight. “So, go ahead. Say it.”

  Harris turned around, his face a perfect mask of indifference. He’d make a killing on the Vegas poker circuit. “Say what?”

  “That I lost the game for us.”

  “Last I counted, there were at least twenty-two other guys on that field today, not counting special teams and substitutes.” Tyler slipped on a pair of expensive sunglasses, effectively blocking out Zach’s ability to read his eyes, not that he’d been able to read much anyway.

  “Yeah, but I played like crap.”

  “So did I. What the hell? Instead of wallowing in pity for the next twenty-four hours, let’s figure out how to do it better next week.”

  Zach’s mouth dropped open, good thing it wasn’t fly season. He’d be ingesting an entire belly-full of them. “I called the wrong defensive plays. Got suckered into going after the running back and left the tight end wide open.”

  “You sure as hell did. You’re a better player than that.” Harris paused and rubbed his temple. “So the fuck am I. I got caught in the pocket with my pants down and got sacked three times. I’m a better player than that. My pussy-whipped cousin didn’t get open and fell down in the end zone and missed a perfect pass from me. He’s a better player than that. We all fucking sucked.”

  Derek’s head snapped up from the next locker over. “Hey, wait one damn minute. That wasn’t a perfect pass. And I fell down diving for the overthrown ball.”

  Tyler snorted and turned his gaze on their star running back. “And Bruiser here couldn’t have found a hole in a donut let alone in the Packer’s defense.”

  Bruiser’s head snapped up from his locker. “Bullshit, if there’d been holes, I’d have found them.”

  “My point is blame isn’t going to get us anywhere. We’re in this together regardless of which side of the ball we’re on.”

  A couple defensive guys stood around, shuffling their feet. Some glanced at Zach, as if expecting a response.

  Zach didn’t disappoint. “I’ll take care of my guys, you handle yours.” The minute he said the words, he regretted them. He never missed an opportunity to stuff his big foot in his mouth. He couldn’t let it go, couldn’t cut Harris any slack. The guy played hard today, despite the screw-ups for which the entire team shared the blame. Yet Zach knew how the fans and the press operated, win or lose, it was all on the quarterback. Not a job he’d want.

  Tyler’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, getting into Zach’s face. His menacing expression telegraphed a challenge not wasted on Zach. “Then see to it the offense doesn’t have to carry the defense, and we’re all good.”

  Zach leaned forward himself until their faces were inches apart. He could smell Harris’s fancy aftershave and see the small scar above his lip. “Yeah, we’re good. More than good.”

  Tyler dismissed him, shrugged into his leather coat, and
strolled from the locker room.

  “You don’t ever learn, do ya?” Tomcat shook his head as if Zach might be missing a few marbles.

  “Don’t like the guy,” Zach mumbled and dropped to the bench to pull on his shoes.

  “You don’t have to, but we’re all teammates. The way you behave you’d think the offense and defense played for two different teams.”

  “Sometimes I wish we did.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  Zach didn’t have an answer for that. Tact for him was an art form in which he’d never graduated above crayons. In fact, he couldn’t even color between the lines.

  “He cut you some slack today. Could’ve chewed your ass but he didn’t. Could’ve thrown some of the blame your way. He didn’t. That’s leadership, buddy. You might try practicing it yourself.” Turning on his heel, Tomcat stalked from the room.

  Heat slid up Zach’s neck and settled on his cheeks. He’d failed again and didn’t have a fucking clue how to succeed. He couldn’t get past his resentment of Harris, just like he couldn’t get past his bad history with Kelsie or how good she’d looked all soapy in his tub.

  He needed to get past it. He didn’t need to trust either person, just forgive and move on.

  For the team. For himself. For his future. And most of all, for that elusive, fucking ring.

  CHAPTER 12

  Faked Handoff

  Rachel and Lavender swept Kelsie along after the game like a tidal wave of girl power, insisting she join them for drinks and dinner. Her stomach growled at the thought of a thick prime rib when she couldn’t even afford a cracker.

  At halftime, the two women had been persuasive and didn’t take no for an answer, before Kelsie knew what hit her she’d poured her heart out to them in an abbreviated history of her life, minus her current living situation, or lack of. She didn’t want their pity, and she didn’t get it. She got their understanding and acceptance, and that meant a hell of a lot more.

  They flashed passes at the bored security guard as they pushed their way past hoards of fans into the sanctuary of the wide hallway near the locker room. Kelsie knew she should leave, but she had nothing better to do. Sitting in a warm bar beat shivering in her car, and deep down she hoped Zach would join them.

  Poor Zach. And maybe poor her. He was going to kill her if and when the scheme they hatched during halftime came to fruition. He’d see her stamp all over it. Next week, Rachel planned to present Operation Team Unity to the coach. If HughJack jumped on board, he’d call the men into his office and pronounce their sentence, which was exactly how Zach and Tyler would see it. Zach would be furious at her meddling and rightfully so, but it was for his own stubborn good and the good of the team. For now, Kelsie buried her worries deeper than the Titanic was buried at sea.

  Derek and Tyler walked out of the locker room together. Their hair was wet from recent showers. They weren’t exactly the picture of happiness, more like pent-up frustration.

  Bruiser in his slacks with the knife-blade crease and crisp black shirt strutted behind them, glancing around as if looking for his adoring fans. A lady’s man to rival all ladies’ men, Bruiser was almost too pretty for words with his deep tan and streaked blond hair. He reminded Kelsie a little too much of her ex-husband. She slid behind Rachel and Lavender, hoping to stay out of Bruiser’s well-honed, womanizing sights. Only five-foot-ten former beauty queens didn’t exactly blend in with a crowd. His eyes lit up when he spotted her, and the running back barged to her side like a bargain shopper when the doors opened on Nordstrom sale day.

  “Ah, I knew you wouldn’t play the coy one for long. I see you’re waiting for me, honey.” The sly devil slid right up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. In her Jimmy Choo boots she towered over him by a few inches. Most guys would have a problem with that. Not Bruiser. A girl had to admire the guy’s brash confidence, even if she didn’t admire his cockiness. If she stepped on his foot with her lethal heels, the Jacks would lose their best running back. Still, it was damn tempting, as she’d long ago outgrown false flattery.

  Zach stalked out next and tramped down the hall toward them, all dark and brooding like some gothic romance hero. Kelsie’s heart stepped it up a notch, and she trembled slightly. Licking her lips, she forced herself to breathe. Bruiser grinned, obviously assuming she was reacting to him.

  Zach’s posse of defensive teammates straggled out behind him. Spotting Tyler, he made a show of looking the other way until he caught Kelsie out the corner of his eye. His mouth turned down into an even larger frown. Bruiser grinned at Zach, obviously knowing he was pissing off his teammate.

  “So where’s dinner tonight, guys?” Bruiser squeezed her closer. She elbowed him in the ribs, hard, and he grunted in pain but didn’t loosen his hold.

  “We got a private room at The Steakhouse.” Tyler grabbed Lavender’s hand and pulled her against him, turning the full power of his intense blue eyes on her. “Unless, you’d like to forget dinner and dine on some wine and chocolate at home.”

  Lavender giggled. “We’re going to dinner.” She leaned in close to her boyfriend, but Kelsie stood only a foot away and heard her. “You can have your way later.”

  “You can count on it.” One smile from her, and Tyler’s foul mood seemed to lift like the sun breaking through the clouds after a spring storm on Puget Sound.

  “Count me and pretty lady here in. I plan to wine and dine her,” Bruiser flashed his thousand-watt smile.

  Despite the thought of a full meal, this Kelsie didn’t use people. She opened her mouth to protest, but the wind rushed from her lungs as Zach hauled her to his side. Bruiser’s arm hung out in space as if it surrounded an invisible woman’s waist. He took one look at Zach’s murderous glare and swallowed.

  Backing up a few steps, Bruiser held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, sorry. Didn’t know you two were an item.”

  “Keep your hands off,” Zach grumbled, his menacing gaze took in every man there, daring them to cross that line. Tyler raised one eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself. The other guys looked everywhere but at Kelsie.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t play on another man’s playground.” Bruiser regained a portion of his swagger for the guys’ benefit.

  Tyler inserted himself into the conversation with a loud snort. “Bullshit, Bruiser. You play any chance you get.” He turned to Lavender and tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear with a loving smile that seemed so out of place on his bad boy face. “If you’re in, let’s go. I’m starving. Dinner’s on the team captains tonight. Next game, the rookies pay.”

  A collective cheer went up from the group of players, except the rookies. Zach groaned. Mr. Tightwad hated to part with even a portion of his wad of dough. The crowd swept Kelsie along and out the double doors into the dark night. She fully intended to beg off, despite her state of hunger, only Zach wasn’t letting go of her. She needed to keep her distance despite how nice it felt to be claimed. Theirs was a business relationship, and it needed to stay that way.

  The team members and significant others headed to their respective modes of transportation. Her so-called friends dispersed faster than a flock of geese after a gunshot. They knew exactly what they were doing—leaving her at Zach’s mercy. Even worse, leaving her sex-deprived body at the mercy of his hard, hot body.

  She’d get even the next chance she got.

  Zach yanked her against him just as Mountain Morris, their huge right tackle, astride his even larger Harley roared out the parking lot, sending water flying from several mud puddles.

  He pulled her out of the way just in time. Kelsie found herself wrapped in his arms and staring up at him. The palms of her hands spread across his chest. His heart thudded erratically under her palms, mirroring hers. She gazed up at him. Big mistake. Bigger mistake than mixing navy blue socks with a black slacks. Usually full of disdain, his expression softened, easing the hard planes of his face. The big hands grasping her shoulders slipped behind her back and pulled
her closer. His hot breath teased her lips. She tilted her head. Her lips parted. Waiting. Wanting. Needing.

  A car horn honked, and they jumped apart. Tyler sped by, waving at them through his open window. Lavender and Tyler’s laughter filtered back to them as he sped down the street.

  “Bastard,” Zach muttered and backed up a few steps, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Kelsie ran a shaking hand through her hair. “I’d better be going. Home that is.”

  Zach squinted at her, studying her intently in the light of a street lamp. “And where is that exactly?”

  Kelsie opened her mouth then clamped it shut. The lies that once flowed so easily from her lips, didn’t come so easily anymore. She’d learned the hard way that each lie came with a price. “Oh, I had a little studio in Fremont.”

  “Do you now?” He didn’t seem convinced.

  She ignored the question and started walking. “Have a good dinner.”

  He jogged to catch up then easily matched strides with her, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets and his gaze avoiding hers. “You aren’t joining us?”

  “I’d better not.” She stared straight ahead, wishing he’d go away and wishing he’d stay.

  “It’s a social situation. Aren’t you gonna hang out and coach me?” They walked together across the lot.

  “You’ll do okay with that crowd.”

  “Ah, because those are my people?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Fine, I’ll give you a ride to your car. It’s dark and rainy.”

  Kelsie slapped down the panic. He couldn’t see her car. Couldn’t see all the stuff stacked in it. One glance, and he’d know the truth. “No, really. That’s fine.”

  Then she saw it. She stopped dead in her tracks as a cold blade of fear knifed through her. Her life tilted crazily. The black sedan with dark windows idled in a parking space across from the stadium. She hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, and hoped her stalker had given up. She should’ve known better. Zach followed her gaze. He stiffened but didn’t comment.