Hill Country Hero

by Ann DeFee

  “What are you talking about?” Jake was starting to sound grumpy. He’d apparently realized that her jealousy had reared its ugly head.

  “If you remember, I asked you to that dinner. But you turned me down for no good reason that I could see, and now you’re waking me up before the crack of dawn to accuse me of getting it on with some chick I don’t even know? Tell you what, why don’t you call me back when you’re ready to play nice.”

  The next thing CiCi heard was a dial tone. “That didn’t go well.”

  “I could hear him all the way over here,” Mac offered. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s telling the truth.”

  “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

  “Yep, you sure did.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “You get dressed, and I’m not talking a pair of skuzzy shorts and a tank top, then you go to his condo and apologize. Make it worth his while to forgive you.”

  “How?”

  Mac gave her a classic “puleeze” look. “Tell me you didn’t ask me that. Didn’t you and Tank have makeup sex? Hot. Heavy. Sweaty. Makeup. Sex!”

  Actually, CiCi couldn’t remember ever having hot heavy sex with Tank. Their relationship hadn’t been too passionate, but that wasn’t something she was willing to share.

  “What do I wear to a seduction?”

  “Now you’re talking!” Mac headed for the closet and dismissed items right and left as she made a perusal of the contents. Then she held up a pair of jeans.

  “I helped you pick these out. The tags are still on them.”

  They were skintight and had rhinestones on the back pocket and down the sides. They’d looked okay when CiCi had tried them on, but she’d never had the guts to wear them.

  “Do you really want me to show off my, um, assets like that?”

  Mac shot her another withering look. “I’ll bet Jake would appreciate it.”

  There was that. “What do I wear with them?”

  “Good, you’re not as obtuse as I thought.” Mac rummaged through the closet and came up with a cleavage-revealing knit top in a flattering shade of red.

  “Ladies in red have more fun. Get dressed and get going. You have some groveling to do.” She shoved the top at CiCi. “Don’t come home until you and that man of yours have kissed and made up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” CiCi gave her sister a mock salute.

  “Go get ’em.” Mac patted her on the butt and sashayed out.

  JAKE COULDN’T BELIEVE CiCi had actually called him to yell about a picture in the paper. He glared at the cordless phone for several seconds before throwing it against the wall. No matter what he did, he was screwed. True, he’d had his share of women, but CiCi was special and he had no intention of running around on her.

  As for the woman last night, he didn’t have a clue who she was. He’d been at the entrance to the hotel waiting for his car and before he knew what was happening, she was trying to suck out his tonsils. Ironically, her friend had a camera.

  Jake staggered to the kitchen in search of coffee and breakfast. He was making an omelet when his doorbell rang.

  “Who is it?”

  Silence.

  “Uh, it’s me. CiCi. I talked the doorman into letting me in.”

  When Jake opened the door, he almost had a coronary. CiCi had somehow turned into a red-hot mama complete with stilettos, tight jeans and cleavage.

  She held up a white bakery sack and a takeout tray from Starbucks. “I came bearing gifts. May I come in?”

  “Sure.” Jake stepped back to allow her to enter. Who was he to turn up his nose at a peace offering, especially when she was dressed like that?

  CiCi wandered toward the kitchen. She placed the sack and coffee cups on the table and then made a quick turn, bumping into his chest.

  “Oops. Sorry.” Her face was a cute shade of pink.

  Jake deliberately stayed in her personal space. Whatever she wanted to say, she’d better do it now, because she was about to get kissed.

  “I came over to apologize.” She said it so quickly she was tripping over her words.

  “Apologize?” Jake put his hands on her hips, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist.

  “I was jealous,” she admitted, ducking her head. “I’m working on it. I’m trying to, at least.”

  “Oh, really?” He bracketed her face with his hands and made her look him in the eye. Conversations worked better that way. “You can trust me, I promise. I’ve never cheated on anyone. I think that’s trashy.”

  CiCi responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” She took a deep breath. “Tank destroyed my confidence.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jake softly kissed the side of her mouth and then he traced her lips with his tongue in a tender seduction. “Divorce sucks. I don’t have any personal experience but I know a lot of people who have.”

  “Tank’s a moron.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard. Football is a small community.” Jake backed her up against the wall. “Are we finished discussing the infamous William Tankersley?” He barely gave her time to answer before devouring her mouth.

  From there, he quickly dispensed with her sexy duds and she wrapped her legs around him. He suckled, licked and kissed, and almost drove them both crazy before finally immersing himself in her warmth.

  Making love with this woman was a heavenly combination of passion and comfort. Being with her was like coming home after a long, hard trip.

  This was the thing that inspired poets, songwriters and authors to wax rhapsodically. It was love. And sure enough, it wasn’t rational, logical or even comprehensible. But it was damn fine.

  CICI’S HEAD WAS on Jake’s shoulder and she was playing with the thick dark hair on his chest. There was something incredibly sexy about just the right amount of hair on the right man.

  “I want to explain why I called you.” She traced a finger around his nipple.

  “You’re not going to get a chance to, if you keep that up.” Jake imprisoned her hand under his.

  CiCi laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I want to tell you about the final straw to my marriage.”

  Jake stroked the back of her head. “You don’t have to talk about it, really.”

  “No, I want to. I need you to know why I do some of the silly things I do.”

  “Okay, press on.” He leaned back into the pillow, and let her tell her story.

  “It was January and the snow in Wisconsin was driving me crazy, so I decided to go home to Houston for a week. I started feeling bad about not spending enough time with Tank so I came back a day early to surprise him. Guess who got the shock of a lifetime?” CiCi shrugged. “At least they were using the guest bedroom.

  “I must have made a noise because all of a sudden they both looked at me. Tank didn’t say a word but he didn’t have to. We both knew it was over. When they left, I called a locksmith.”

  Jake ran his fingers through her hair.

  “Later that night Tank tried to get in, but guess what?” CiCi giggled. “The pile of clothes and trophies I threw out on the front lawn were under inches of snow.”

  “Remind me not to make you mad.”

  “You’re a smart man.” She tweaked his chest hair. “I don’t get mad, I get even. I’ve been thinking about writing a book on how to get back at your ex.”

  JAKE PULLED A FACE. How could anyone betray CiCi like that? She was everything he’d ever wanted in a life mate, and for him to admit that was monumental.

  “Now you know why I flipped out when I saw that picture in the paper.” By this time she was straddling him, making conversation very difficult.

  “I’ve never been close enough to someone to get jealous,” Jake said. He didn’t think this was the time to declare his love. If he didn’t have a ring, he’d at least like to be on top when he popped the question.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Training camp was a rigorous two we
eks designed to get the guys ready for the NFL season. The theory was if a man could do two full-pad practices a day in a Houston summer, he could play anywhere, under any circumstances.

  With the exception of the weekends, the entire team was sequestered on the University of Houston campus, so CiCi hadn’t seen Jake in a couple of days. However, if she waited until evening she could get him on his cell.

  Her call was about to go to voicemail when Jake answered. “What’s up?”

  Not a very romantic greeting. “How are things?” Now that she had him on the phone, she didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m too old for this stuff. I was just in the hot tub. Everything hurts.” Jake ended his gripe with a groan. “What’s up?”

  “Daddy said you have tomorrow off. Why don’t we go out for a burger or something. I have something I want to tell you.”

  “If you don’t mind me falling asleep at the table, I’m yours.” He tried, but couldn’t disguise a yawn.

  CiCi had decided it was time to tell him that she loved him, and didn’t want to do it over the phone. “Pick me up around five?”

  “You can count on it.”

  CICI WAS WAITING for JAKE the next day when the doorbell rang. Her sweetie was here and her family was gone—how much better could it get? She ran to the door, jerked it open and almost fainted. Instead of Jake it was Tank!

  “What do you want?”

  Tank pulled a bouquet of roses from behind his back. “That isn’t very friendly.”

  “No kidding.” CiCi braced her arms on the doorjamb.

  “Can I come in?” He somehow managed to look contrite. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “I don’t think so. If you don’t mind, I’m really busy.” She made the tactical error of taking her eyes off him and before she knew what had happened he’d grabbed her and planted a big wet one on her mouth. What kind of wacky-tobacky had the guy been smoking?

  JAKE PULLED UP in front of the Hurst residence and carefully lowered his creaking bones from the cab of the truck. A rental car was sitting in the driveway. He was wondering who was visiting when he noticed the front door ajar.

  He pushed the door the rest of the way open only to see CiCi and her ex in a world-class lip-lock. It took Jake a few seconds to sort out exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he wished he hadn’t. The woman he loved was kissing Tank Tankersley. Had she been using him to make Tank jealous? Had her freak-out over that stupid picture been nothing more than a smoke screen?

  Just the thought of it sent a surge of white-hot rage roaring through him. Jake took a deep breath, hoping he could get a handle on his temper.

  He cleared his throat. “Why is Tankersley here?”

  CiCi jerked back.

  “This isn’t what it looks like.” She stepped away from her ex. The big guy looked confused, but that wasn’t unusual; he was more brawn than brain.

  “I’m her husband. What’s it to you?”

  CiCi smacked Tank. “You’re not my husband!”

  Jake ignored her. “I guess the question should be what are you doing here? Don’t the Packers have a training camp?”

  Tank puffed up, not that he needed to—at six foot seven and three hundred and twenty-five pounds he was naturally intimidating. But that didn’t matter. Jake was half a second from doing the “come on, dude, let’s get with it” sign. Coach would have his butt if he had to go on the Injured Reserve list because of a fight. At the moment, Jake just didn’t care.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we finished our training yesterday. I came to talk to my wife.”

  “Ex-wife. Ex!” CiCi exclaimed. She looked back and forth between the two men before she spoke. “Tank, it’s time for you to go.”

  “We haven’t finished our business.”

  CiCi put the mangled bouquet on the table. “Yes, we have. Go!” She pointed toward the door.

  Tank made a show of resisting before giving in. “I’ll call you later.” He glared at Jake. “I’ll see you on the football field, hotshot.” He emphasized his pseudo-threat by slamming the door on his way out.

  “Oh, Jake.” CiCi moved closer and put her hand on his chest. “I’m—”

  Jake stepped away. He was trying to act casual so he leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Were you trying to make him jealous?”

  He had to give it to her, CiCi looked genuinely confused. “Are you saying that you think that I’ve been trying to get Tank back? Are you nuts?” She poked him.

  Damn, she was strong.

  “You bastard! How dare you come in here and accuse me of playing you.”

  CiCi jabbed again. At this rate he was going to look like Swiss cheese, but he didn’t dare grab her hand. That was in Chapter One of the Smart Guy’s Book of Survival—don’t defend yourself, not unless a deadly weapon was involved. Although that finger—

  “You know what your problem is? You’re an opinionated jerk. I want you out of here. Now.” She pointed toward the street.

  “Gladly. I suppose I was just your summer fling, huh?” It was time to retreat and regroup. Jake was barely out of the house when she slammed the door so hard the globe on the front porch light fell off and shattered.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The following week was pure agony. CiCi had thought things were bad when she split with Tank, but their marriage had been a sham. This time her heart was caved in like a post-Halloween pumpkin.

  She and Jake were equally responsible for this disaster, but if they couldn’t get past a simple misunderstanding, what chance did they have? Jake had jumped to an erroneous conclusion and that was a shame on him. But instead of discussing the problem like an adult, CiCi had wigged out. She didn’t do that very often, but when she did, it was Lizzie Borden bad.

  She had to fix the situation, but how? She’d called him dozens of times but he’d never picked up. After a couple of drive-bys of his condo, CiCi decided she was turning into a stalker. Wouldn’t that make great headlines for the society page?

  Nothing had worked—nothing—so until she came up with a foolproof plan, she’d simply wallow in her misery and eat chocolate. CiCi had just dug into a pint of double fudge Ben & Jerry’s when Mac breezed into the kitchen. Who invited her?

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “I screwed up.” CiCi had somehow managed to keep the fight off the Hurst ladies’ radar screen but this was the perfect time to confide.

  “What did you do?”

  “I lost my cool again,” she confessed.

  By that time Mama had joined the party. “We want facts.” She’d obviously heard CiCi’s comment.

  “I asked Jake out to dinner. I needed to talk to him about something, but I wouldn’t say what. I was going to tell him that I loved him. But when he came by to pick me up, Tank was here.”

  “Tank Tankersley was here? In my house?” Mama’s frown was scary.

  “Yeah.”

  “So?” Mac asked.

  “So Tank was kissing me when Jake walked in.”

  “Oh, boy!” Marianne exclaimed. “I can’t believe that jerk came here to molest you!”

  “Jake got the wrong impression. He thought I’d used him to get Tank back.”

  “Aw, jeeze.” Although Mac expressed the sentiment, it seemed to be universal.

  “He’s jealous. That’s a good thing.” Marianne was an eternal optimist.

  “He was furious. We haven’t spoken since.”

  “Call him!” Mac should have been a camp commander. “I did.”

  “Do it again.”

  CiCi sighed. “I did, incessantly, and then I resorted to driving by his condo.” She was embarrassed to admit her stalker tactics.

  “Oops.” Marianne grimaced. “Don’t worry. Things will work out.”

  CiCi didn’t miss the look Mac and Mama shared. The Hurst women could be incredibly devious when they got focused.

  IT TOOK Jake less than thirty seconds to real
ize he’d messed up and a week to try to figure out how to fix it. By now he’d procrastinated so long he was afraid it was beyond hope.

  The Road Runners’ first exhibition game was scheduled for next Sunday and Coach was working them mercilessly. Jake had made it through “hell camp” without injury, and in the world of professional football that was worthy of at least three cheers.

  Practice was over for the day. “What are you doing for dinner?” Jake asked Cole. He was almost as tired of his own conversation as he was of his cooking.

  “I have a date, sorry, guy. Why don’t you call CiCi?”

  Yeah, why didn’t he—could it be because he was a fool?

  “We’re kind of on the outs.”

  “Too bad.”

  Yeah, it was too bad. To her credit, CiCi had called more than once and he’d been too chicken to respond. Or to be more specific, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

  Locker rooms were the same around the league—sweaty guys, trash talk, backslapping, raunchy jokes, congratulations and commiserations when team cuts were being made. Under other circumstances Jake would be in the middle of it all, but lately he hadn’t been feeling very social.

  He was removing his pads when Coach Carruthers strolled up to him, clipboard in hand. Crap! Things on the field had been going so well, surely he hadn’t been cut. Even if he was on the outs with the owners baby girl.

  “Hey, Culpepper. Have you been doing something I don’t know about?” Coach propped one foot on the bench in front of Jake’s locker.

  Jake wiped his face with a towel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was safer to just play dumb.

  “The big guy wants to see you.”

  Jake assumed Coach meant Texas Bob, not God. But all things considered, God would probably be more sympathetic.

  Jake pulled off his shirt. This wasn’t the time to panic. “Do you have any idea what he wants?”

  “Nope, but if I were you, I’d grab a shower and get my butt up there, ASAP.” Coach was a wise man.