Zach felt every one of his thirty-four years. Damn, even his big toe ached. Turf toe or some stupid-assed term like that. He’d been invincible for so long that he’d considered himself impervious to pain or injury. Now he figured it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the same fate as the majority of the team’s wide receivers.
Last year, the team’s implosion would’ve been the center of Zach’s world, a tragedy of huge proportions. This year, while he hated it, he had Kelsie to go home to, which helped compensate for the team’s losses. That simple fact scared the piss out of him more than never getting a ring. He could not lose his last chance at a ring and the women of his dreams, especially the woman of his dreams.
Then there was that stupid-assed gala, not to mention a Thursday Night Football game at home and only a few days to prepare, and he’d promised the kids he’d be there on Tuesday night for their big game against another group of kids. Crap.
Zach ran his fingers through his short hair. He hated messing with his hair, which was why he’d let it grow long. Kelsie saw to it that he kept it cut. Not that he gave a shit either way. He needed to win football games, and figure out how to keep Kelsie from walking out that door at the end of the season. Yeah, that’s exactly what he needed to do. He needed a plan. A big one.
She’d pinned her hopes on this gala. If it was a success, her business would get an added boost. He’d do his part, be the guy that she wanted him to be, and prove to everyone how brilliant she was. He’d romance her, sweep her off her feet, impress her with how suave he’d become. As much as he hated the thought, he’d study Harris, pick up a few pointers on women. Speaking of Harris, the guy was a virtual donation grubbing machine. He charmed men and women alike, selling out the tickets to the gala and garnering some large auction items, along with donations. It looked like they’d surpass last year’s total after all.
Grabbing a towel, Zach dried off and wrapped it around his waist. Back in the locker room, guys were dressing and talking in muted tones.
Harris sat on the bench and rubbed his throwing arm. Zach hesitated as he walked by. “You being a pussy again?”
“Screw you.” Harris looked up and almost smiled. The quarterback looked haggard, beat-up, and exhausted. As much as he’d like to, Zach couldn’t fault the guy’s heart in the past few games, but even Harris couldn’t stop this plane from going down.
Zach nodded. As long as Harris and he were needling each other, things were as they should be. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, concerned one of those hits Harris took might have damaged his arm. Without the game-changing quarterback, they didn’t have a rat’s ass chance in hell of making the playoffs.
They might not be best of friends—and never would be—but Harris had earned a grudging respect from Zach lately as the two team captains presented a show of unity and attempted to keep the team together.
Only they were a platoon of soldiers with half their men down, while the wounded survivors fought on for honor and pride. Zach had spent the first twelve years of his life playing for nothing but pride. He sure as hell hadn’t planned on doing so this year with this team.
He pulled on his slacks and buttoned his shirt.
“Now aren’t you stylin’?” Harris looked him up and down. The QB shrugged into his shirt and winced when he moved his shoulder.
Zach studied him with concern, even though he wouldn’t voice it. “Kelsie.”
“I figured she’d been buying your clothes. That woman is good for you. You’d be wise to keep her around. You aren’t such a single-minded jerk with her keeping you under control.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to pass that on to her.”
“You do that.”
Kelsie. The thought of her waiting for him at home this evening picked up his battered spirits. Sure, she’d been a little out of sorts about his Tuesday-night meanderings. He should just tell her the truth, but for some reason, he couldn’t. Working with homeless kids was so deeply personal to him, and so private, he couldn’t tell her, even though she’d spilled her guts about life with her ex.
He still didn’t completely trust her, but he was getting there. They made a good pair in an opposites attract sort of way. For so long, he’d been a loner who hated parties and socializing and all those things she liked, yet parties weren’t so bad with her at his side. She handled the small talk while he listened with interest and nodded in all the right places. He followed her lead on which utensils to use in what situations and how to properly sip wine. Oh, yeah, he’d definitely become a wine aficionado.
He smiled at the thought of Kelsie spread out on the counter with wine dribbling down all her hills and valleys. Damn, he loved those hills and valleys. They sure as hell were compatible when it came to their physical relationship.
“You must be thinking about sex.”
Zach jerked his head in Tyler’s direction. “None of your damn business.”
“That’s what I thought. Sex.”
“Have you seen his wife? I’d be thinking about sex, too.” Hoss Price, their big center, bellowed for all to hear. Several guys shouted their agreement and others chuckled. At least Harris’s comment broke some of the tension in the room.
Instead of being pissed, Zach grinned with pride. She was his, and he planned on keeping it that way. For once, he didn’t care as much about the taunting as he once would have. He just cared that Kelsie waited at home for him.
He’d show her how much she meant to him and convince her they belonged together.
How the hell did a guy who didn’t have a way with words romance a woman? Zach didn’t know the first damn thing about romance, but he bet Harris did. Or Mabel Fay. Hell, maybe there was a chapter in that book on romance etiquette.
An hour later, Zach settled into a seat on the team plane and opened Mabel Fay’s book bent on gleaning some tips on romancing Kelsie. She worshipped Mabel Fay so any advice the old bitty might impart had to work on his beauty queen. First, he took a picture of himself reading the book and texted it to Kelsie, scoring some big brownie points. She texted back a picture which inspired him to get this romance thing down.
Zach went to work. Mable Fay was dry reading but he trudged through it. Four pages into the chapter, someone ripped the book out of his hands. Zach grabbed for it, but not before Harris read the heading at the top of the page.
“Chapter Twenty-Two—The Fine Art of Wooing Your Sweetheart.” Harris threw back his head and laughed like a fucking hyena. Then the dickwad dropped into the empty seat next to Zach. A second later, Derek leaned over the seat in front of them.
Zach said nothing, just gritted his teeth and felt the heat rush to his now-exposed ears, wishing he’d kept his hair long.
Harris wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Damn, I needed a good laugh after today’s game. Seriously, who calls it ‘wooing’ anymore?”
“Beats me.” Derek shrugged, even the nice guy couldn’t seem to stop the smile spreading across his face.
Zach yanked the book out of Harris’s oversized hand and tucked it under his seat.
“You got problems in the romance department, Murphy?” Harris tapped his own chest. “You’ve come to the right place.”
“I didn’t come to you. You invaded my space.”
“Whatever. I’m the king of romance. Aren’t I?” He glanced at his cousin.
Derek rolled his eyes. “More like king of bullshit.”
“Ladies love bullshit. For example, if they ask you if a dress makes them look fat, you don’t say, ‘Yeah, you look like a sow about to give birth to piglets.’ No. No. No. That’ll get you a night in the barn. Right, Dare?”
“That’s what happened to our Uncle Arnold.” Derek’s smile grew wider.
Even Zach had to smile at Harris. Sometimes the guy was a pure nut.
Harris sat up straighter. “Uncle Arnold was lucky he survived with his dick intact. No guy wants to lose his dick. So you say, ‘Honey, you’re as sexy as hell in that dres
s, and I’d love to do you right up against the door of the dressing room.’”
“You call that romantic?”
“He does,” Derek said. “Seriously, Zach, you two got married really fast. Did you ever do the flowers, chocolates, and the sappy words thing? Women love that crap.”
“Uh…not really.” Zach hesitated. He’d never been much for that stuff, a waste of money, but it was money he’d gladly spend on Kelsie.
“Oh, man.” Derek slapped his forehead.
“He’s not talking a grocery store chocolate bar and a handful of daisies. You need expensive chocolates from that gourmet chocolate place in downtown Bellevue. And roses.”
“Red roses,” Derek agreed. “The more the better.”
“What do I say to her?” Zach couldn’t believe he was asking for romance tips from these two clowns.
“Tell her that her hair’s softer than silk, her smile lights up your life, and your world revolves around her,” Harris suggested.
All true. Zach could say that because he felt that way.
“Make sure she knows you think about her night and day, and you’d rather die than live without her,” Derek added.
“You guys aren’t very original.” Bruiser, the worst womanizer on the team, swaggered over. “You gotta be more poetic.” Bruiser got down on one knee and clenched his hands to his heart. “Darlin’, you are my warm fire at the end of long day, my sweet song when I need comfort, and my guiding light when all is lost.”
The guys started laughing. Pretty soon other players were pushing and shoving to offer their own advice. Zach filed some away in his brain as possibilities. Most of it was pure garbage, but it brought the team together, showed them that the two captains could get along. He shook his head, realizing he hadn’t thought of the game once since he’d boarded the plane. He’d been focused on how to romance Kelsie.
What had she done to him?
He could do this. He could tell Kelsie how much she meant to him without making a bumbling mess out of it. He could say what was in his heart without sounding like Bruiser delivering a line to his lover of the night. He’d make sure the words came from deep inside, and he hoped like hell Kelsie gave points for his sincerity, even if the words weren’t perfect.
* * * * *
On Tuesday evening just before 5:30 p.m., Kelsie pulled into the practice facility’s parking lot. It was dark, but she located Zach’s big truck immediately, and she parked several spots away in an unlit corner, out of sight from anyone exiting the building.
She glanced around to make sure she wasn’t being followed by trench-coat man, then realized it was the first she’d thought of him in a long while. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully, the guy had gone onto other prey. Maybe her ex had finally given up. She shook her head at her own thoughts. Fat chance of Mark becoming reasonable.
Popping a chocolate in her mouth, she chewed slowly. Zach had been behaving so strangely for the past few days, overwhelming her with roses and yummy chocolates, behaving like a doting husband, or far worse, a cheating one. Guilt often drove a man to shower his woman with material gifts when all the woman wanted was his affection and undying devotion. Kelsie popped another chocolate in her mouth. Is that what she wanted? Really wanted? And why did he continue to hide where he went on Tuesday nights?
She had to know and despite hating herself for reverting to past devious methods, she reverted anyway. Tamping down her guilt, Kelsie justified her actions every which way. After all, Zach had evaded her every attempt to quiz him on his Tuesday night activities, either because he didn’t want her to know, or he wanted her to trust him and take his word for it.
Neither reason worked for a nosy woman.
Even though she did trust him. Deep in her heart, she knew he wasn’t seeing another woman, but her inborn female curiosity couldn’t let it go at that. When he came home on Tuesday nights, he seemed so different, even more quiet than usual. His change in behavior concerned her. If he wouldn’t tell her what was going on, she’d find out for herself.
After an hour of hunching down in the car seat, her butt fell asleep, and she had a cramp in her calf. Maybe the joke was on her. Maybe he’d left hours ago in someone else’s car. She’d give it until seven. If he didn’t show by then, she’d go home. A slice of light spilled into the parking lot and caught her attention.
The side door opened and someone walked out. Even in the darkness, she recognized Zach’s distinctive, determined stride. He got in his truck and barreled out of the lot. Keeping her distance, Kelsie followed. She had an insurance policy if she lost him. She’d grabbed his phone earlier that morning and programmed it so she could “stalk” him using her new iPhone’s “Find Friends” feature. He’d be pissed as hell that she’d gone to such lengths, and there wasn’t one part of her not nursing some deep-seated guilt over her deception. She’d come so far from her mean girl days, yet she’d reverted to the lying and manipulations when the going got tough.
She just needed to know. That was all. Once she found out, she’d head home, and he’d never be the wiser. Then first chance she got, she’d remove her permissions from his stalker app.
She lost him on the wet city streets when he gunned it through a yellow light, and she had to stop. The light took forever to change. By the time she got to the intersection a few blocks down from where he’d turned, his truck was nowhere in sight.
Kelsie pulled out her phone and opened the stalker app. She located him several blocks away and found his truck parked on a side street in a not-too-desirable section of Seattle. On one side of the street was a rundown hotel, on the other a homeless shelter of some kind. Her gut said he wasn’t in the hotel having a liaison with a woman. Getting out, she stepped across the street to the shelter.
A man sat slumped on a bench near the door outside the entryway, a tattered blanket wrapped around his bony body. He wore a Vietnam veteran’s hat, and he gazed up at her, his eyes haunted by horrors she couldn’t come close to imagining and clouded with hopelessness. Her heart went out to him. Kelsie felt compassion for this man because she knew how desperate she’d felt not having a home. She dug in her purse and handed him a twenty. He took it in his scrawny hand, yellowed by some disease and nodded at her. A hoarse croak sounded from his parched lips. “Thank you.”
“Sir, thank you. For your service.”
For a moment he smiled a toothless smile. “You are welcome.”
Swallowing back the choking tears and swiping a hand across her face, Kelsie pushed open the heavy old door, its glass smudged with a million fingerprints. She wandered down a long, narrow hall, her heels clicking on the old tile floor. At the end of the hall were double doors with small windows. She crept closer and peered through one window.
At the end of decrepit gymnasium stood Zach in sweats, surrounded by kids of varying sizes, ages, and ethnicities. He held a basketball in one hand. The kids sat in a half-circle around him and listened with rapt attention, laughing at times and smiling at others. Quiet, intense Zach was animated and enthusiastic. He picked out several of the smallest kids and directed them to one basket, throwing a ball to them. Then he placed a hand on a tall boy’s shoulder, handed him another ball, and sent him and several others to the opposite basket.
The kids lined up, practicing jump shots and free throws, while Zach and the taller kid shouted encouragement and suggestions.
Kelsie sank away from the window. Why hadn’t he told her he worked with homeless kids? Why had he thought she wouldn’t want to know? Why didn’t he trust her enough to tell her about something obviously so important to him?
But he hadn’t told her. Just like he hadn’t told her about his brother’s ashes buried in the side yard. Why?
She knew the reason, and it trampled her like a mob of shoppers on Black Friday. He didn’t trust her. Despite her opening up and telling him about Mark. They’d spent hours getting to know each other’s bodies, but they didn’t know each other’s minds well at all.
Because
they didn’t have a future, and Zach didn’t want one.
Even if Kelsie thought she did.
* * * * *
Zach tossed the ball to Billy. The kid caught it with the ease and grace of a natural athlete. “Make sure the little ones don’t get run over by the big ones.”
Billy nodded, taking his position as a squad leader seriously. The only praise the kid got all week was from Zach. His mother vacillated between running from an abusive husband and going back to him, certain he’d changed. Her kids were constantly pulled in one direction or the other. The only constant in Billy’s life was this small band of kids Zach coached on Tuesdays.
Billy’s mom was with a new boyfriend, and the kids had a roof over their heads, for now. Tomorrow could be a different story, one Zach knew all too well. He suspected the new guy would be as abusive as the old one because the cycle of abuse kept spinning slowly, over and over until a tragedy interrupted it, like it had in Zach’s life.
He might play a violent sport for a living, but he avoided aggression off the field. He’d seen too much of it as a kid.
Catching movement, Zach glanced toward the doors, a face appeared in the window then it was gone. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. He didn’t like people snooping around here, and anyone who didn’t identify themselves was a problem in his book. He signaled to Billy that he’d be right back and sprinted for the door. Slamming it open, he saw the outer doors close behind the interloper. If it was a reporter, he’d shove the asshole’s camera down his throat. Zach didn’t want anyone publicizing or profiting from his charity work.
Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance Page 27
