by Liz Talley
Lou went from being a carefree eighteen-year-old with dreams of playing the guitar on stage to being Mrs. Doubtfire, sans the wig, padded bra and hilarity.
Nothing funny about bedwetting, putting the family pet down and holding a funeral for Snowball, while keeping up with vaccinations, dental appointments and PTA activities.
Nothing fun at all.
But it was what had to be done. Neither of her parents had had much family. Her uncle in Colorado was willing to take Waylon and Lori in, but he was a bachelor and it was so far away. They had a few cousins in town, but no one wanted to take two kids in and raise them. She’d had a hard choice to make. Send Lori and Waylon to Colorado and perhaps ruin two lives already shaken by severe grief or keep them in the same house, the same town, the same school and ruin only one person’s life.
What other choice could she have made?
So she’d bucked up, sent back her music scholarship and looked for a job. Luckily, her father’s best friend Tom Forcet had an idea to help her out. After spending several months in a heavy equipment training program and apprenticing under experienced workers with a few construction companies, Lou went to work handling a backhoe for Forcet Construction. At first, she’d balked at the idea, but the job pulled down a good salary, one she’d never have as a waitress or secretary. And, she was good at scooping dirt. Who would have thought that Miss Bonnet Creek Cotton Princess of 2002 would don a hard hat and steel-toed boots and work in hundred-degree heat?
So she hadn’t really ruined her life, merely postponed it.
Once Waylon and Lori were both enrolled in college, standing for the most part on their own two feet, Lou was leaving Bonnet Creek and finding her own dreams again.
And someday…love.
“We almost home yet?” Lori yawned.
“Few more miles. We just passed Opelousas.”
“Good. I can’t wait to dive into this book. It’s the second in the series and I’m dying to find out what happens to the fairy king. He’s so yummy.”
“A yummy fairy king?”
“Oh, he is. And so was that football coach. He burned my eyes. Is he the guy you yelled at in the hall? The one you met when Mary Belle took you out for your birthday?”
Lou didn’t want her sister talking about Abram being hot. It reminded her he was indeed cornea-scalding. “I didn’t yell at him—just trying to make sure Waylon is protected.”
“You know, Waylon’s almost the same age you were when Mom and Dad died. He’s going to have to start taking care of himself. Me, too.”
“Oh, well, then. Could you start by picking your clothes up off the bathroom floor? I have to wade through them every night to get to the bathtub.”
Lori rolled her eyes, or at least Lou thought she did. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Look, I’m not trying to control Waylon. I thought Coach Dufrene had tried to pull something over on us, that’s all.”
“He’s really cute.”
“Stop talking about him like that. He’s a coach. And he’s way too old for you.”
“But not for you, Lou-Lou.”
She managed an eye roll of her own. “I can’t go there with him. You know that.”
“But you want to. I saw it in your eyes when you looked at him.” Her sister’s voice teased, but there was truth in the words. Obviously Lou had failed to hide her awareness of Abram as a man.
“You didn’t see anything. He’s an attractive man. Doesn’t mean I’m going to jump his bones or anything.”
Lori snorted. “I’d jump his bones.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll kill you if you do any jumping.”
The exit to Ville Platte appeared and Lou steered toward home, hopeful she could do a better job of hiding her feelings for sexy Abram Dufrene before September hit. Once the season started, he’d become a fixture in their lives along with many other coaches clamoring for Waylon’s services as tight end.
Maybe she needed a distraction. Joey Fontenot, the local produce manager at Dixie Foods, had repeatedly asked her for a date, and she had repeatedly turned him down. Maybe it was time to say yes. Joey couldn’t be that bad…and she would know if what she felt for Abram wasn’t merely her libido kicking into overdrive.
Besides she had to keep taking those baby steps, didn’t she?
And then if…
No. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on Abram’s last question of her. The concept of us.
Stop it, Lou. Take the date with the perfectly nice grocery store manager with the sweet smile and slightly pudgy middle. Joey’s a decent guy.
But he wasn’t Abram.
And that was the problem.
* * *
WAYLON WATCHED the other players run up and down the indoor practice facility. When his turn came, he effortlessly moved around the obstacles and grinned at the coach clocking his time.
The man lifted his eyebrows.
The extra time he’d spent running stadiums and focusing on lunges had paid off. He felt good doing the drills. He’d gotten faster, and even the head coach, Leonard Holt, had stopped to watch him.
“Get some water,” one coach called after blowing the whistle.
Waylon moved to the water station, falling into line. There was some good talent at the camp, but that was to be expected. ULBR wasn’t the only camp held in the state, but it was popular because the facilities were awesome and there was a good chance of someone who’d been flying under the radar getting some looks. Waylon wasn’t under the radar. He was flying high above it in the limelight, but he tried not to let that affect him.
He wanted to be grounded in this whole process.
But he was scared.
Everything seemed too big and was coming at him too fast.
He hadn’t expected this level of interest, but as he got bigger, faster and stronger, he’d mowed down the competition on the field. Coach Landry had started talking, promoting, putting his name out there, and before he knew it, scouts had shown up to Podunk Bonnet Creek to watch him practice. Then they came to his games. Recruiting services called. And suddenly, he was this blue-chip recruit with colleges chomping at the bit to get him on their incoming 2012 roster.
Flattering.
But overwhelming.
“Yo, Boyd, you shave time off the shuttle?”
He inclined his head toward Hayden Verdun, who played for the Owls’ archrivals, the Ville Platte Bulldogs. They’d played against each other their whole lives. “Been working out every night doing stadiums and crap. Probably going to train with Cody for the rest of the summer.”
“Cody? You never worked with him before. Thought your coach has always been your guy.”
What was he going to say? He caught Coach Landry screwing around and now he didn’t want to be around the man? But it was the truth. He’d decided to start working with Cody Craven, a popular personal trainer at Body by Cody in Ville Platte. He just couldn’t be around Coach right now. “Trying something new is all.”
“Cool. That stuff with your sister and Coach Dufrene blow over?”
Shit. Waylon turned around, tossed the paper cup in the trash and jerked his head indicating Hayden needed to step out of line to have this talk.
Hayden got water and walked over to where Waylon stood near a collapsible bench.
“What makes you think there was anything between Lou and Coach Dufrene? Everyone knows what happened was a mixup. Why bring it up in front of those guys?”
Hayden made a face. “I’m not outing your sister, dude. Just asking. I saw her and Coach Dufrene at the dorm. Looked intense, you know?”
Hayden had never been a good friend. They’d done some 7-on-7 tournaments together before, and the defensive end was the only other prospect from his area being looked at by college scouts. But Hayden wasn’t getting the serious looks his father wanted, which seemed to stick in the craw of both father and son. Waylon smelled trouble brewing and didn’t like where Hayden was headed. “Well, any time the NCAA is involved, thi
ngs are tense. Nothing happened between them, so it’s no big deal.”
“Not what my dad heard, but whatever. See you around,” Hayden said, strolling back toward the tables holding water where many of the other campers had gathered. Hayden high-fived a strong safety out of O. Perry Walker in New Orleans and then punched a wide receiver from Georgia on the arm.
Waylon felt like punching something himself—or maybe someone. Hayden would do. The dude was jealous because Waylon was getting more press, more looks and more letters of interest. Hayden wasn’t a bad end but he wasn’t particularly as big or as fast as he needed to be. His words told Waylon what he needed to know. Hayden was not a friend and would look to make trouble for Waylon if he could…or if his father could.
And they both would use whatever necessary.
Even the stupid accidental incident between Coach Dufrene and Lou. Anyone who knew Lou knew nothing happened. His sister wasn’t the type to mess around with any guy, even if she’d been drinking. That’s what made her so tough to deal with sometimes. She never messed up, always figuring the checkbook down to the last cent, always remembering to put the trash out on trash day, put on sunscreen and send birthday cards a week ahead of time. She’d never do something as inappropriate as hooking up with some random guy at a bar. She didn’t even hook up with guys she’d dated for weeks or months. Not that she’d done much dating at all.
Hayden was barking up the wrong tree if he was looking to find something going on between Dufrene and Lou.
CHAPTER NINE
ABRAM OPENED HIS office door to find his mother and sister standing in the hall of the Football Operations building.
“Surprise!” Picou said, with a smile the size of Dallas. His sister, Sally, didn’t look as excited about the ambush. In fact her blue eyes seemed to apologize. “Your sister wanted to see where you work, and since she was in town when I was in town, I told her I’d show her the posh digs the Panthers operate in.”
“Mom,” he managed to say, stepping forward and closing the office door behind him. “Uh, I’m finishing up camp and I’m late. I should be at the practice facility by now.”
Sally smiled. “Sorry, Abram. We should have called. Picou thought you might get away for lunch.”
“Oh, well, I can’t do lunch, but if you want, you can go with me. I’ve been intending to have you up for a while anyway.” He wanted to step carefully around Sally because at times she seemed so lost within their family. Enola Cheramie was in hospice care and not doing well, and Sally clung to the past she knew rather than confronting the uncertain, and sometimes uncomfortable, present. He didn’t understand why it was taking her so long to come around and accept who she was—a Dufrene.
“See? I told you he wouldn’t mind. Now you’ll get to see some of those strapping young men gallivanting around in those tight shirts that show their muscles.” Picou nodded as if ogling football players was a national pastime.
“Mom, that’s disturbing.”
Picou laughed. “For your sister, dear. She’s only twenty-seven. And there are some handsome coaches around here. I’ve seen them with my own two eyes.”
Sally shook her head. “I’m good.”
Picou patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Dear, you have to want to get over that accountant.”
“He wasn’t an accountant. He taught fifth grade.”
“Well, he looked like an accountant.” Picou waggled her fingers at Sue Ann, the receptionist he shared with two other coaches. His mother wore a flouncy skirt that brushed her bright orange toenails, which peeked out from Birkenstocks, and she wore a pink flower behind one ear. She was unequivocally Picou.
On the other hand, his sister was subtle in her beauty. Long-limbed and browned by the Louisiana sun, Sally wore a printed sundress and tasteful silver sandals that matched the hoop earrings in her ears. Her long straight brown hair framed violet eyes that seemed to stay wary no matter what the situation. He supposed being kidnapped as a child did that to a person.
“Come on,” he said, ushering them down the hall past the coaches’ offices and meeting rooms. “We’re heading to the indoor practice facility. Let’s take the stairs so you can see all the trophies.”
After spending more minutes than he could afford looking at the exhibits in the grand foyer of the Football Operations building, they finally emerged in the colossal practice facility where Head Coach Holt addressed the prospects along with their families. He hoped like hell his mother didn’t interrupt the man because though Picou had good Southern manners sometimes she elected not to use them.
His eyes sought his guys, the ones he’d be calling come the first of September, balancing their recruitment with a very demanding football season. He had four present in this early camp. Three more expected in the one in July. His eyes naturally landed on Waylon, his top must-get prospect. Who was he kidding? His gaze skipped by the big tight end and landed on Lou.
She sat with her chin cupped in her hand, and like a magnet, her gaze found him. He felt a little pulse jump-start inside him, and he wondered if the longing he felt was like a flare going off in the cavernous space. Could everyone see how badly he wanted her?
But no one paid attention to his hunger.
Or Lou’s.
Because even though many yards separated them, he could see she felt the same way. She turned her head, breaking the bead they had on one another.
“Who are all these people?” his mother whispered loudly. Several coaches turned toward them. Picou smiled and did the finger waggle at them. She even winked at Jordan Curtis who’d been to Beau Soleil for dinner before.
“They’re high school kids attending a summer camp. Several are serious prospects for the Panthers for our next recruiting class.” He whispered his response softly, so his mother would get the hint.
“Oh, so you’re trying to impress them.”
“No, they are trying to impress us. We’re ULBR.”
A smattering of applause told him camp was officially over, but he still needed to make final contact with the four he’d being calling upon in the next school year. Might be nice to use his mother and sister to portray a more intimate, family-like vibe. “Come meet the guys I’ll be recruiting this year.”
“Ooh, that would be so nice. I can help you get them to come to ULBR.”
“You don’t need to do that, Mom. Just be yourself. Kind of.” He must have looked alarmed because Sally stifled a smile. Though Sally had only been reconciled with his mother for less than a year, she’d learned the power of Picou. He jerked his head, and Sally followed him and their mother across the turf toward where parents and campers stood in clumps. Some campers didn’t have parents present; others seemed to have brought the whole family. Either way, a personal send-off was always a good idea.
He pinned Lou, Lori and Waylon down, and started working his way toward them, allowing Picou to be charming and his sister to lend sensibility to the conversations with the prospects.
Finally, he reached Waylon. He lightly touched Lou on the elbow and felt her reaction—immediate awareness.
“Waylon, you looked good throughout the whole camp,” he said.
The boy smiled, and Abram noticed his grin was similar to his sister’s—when she managed a smile. “I feel good. I’ve got a better idea of what I need to work on, and I’m going to take that one blocking drill back to Coach Landry. Also, I appreciate the time you took with me.”
“Seeing a guy want to get better motivates me to be a better coach, so you don’t have to thank me.” He stepped back and placed a hand on his mother’s back. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Picou, and my sister, Sally. This is the Boyd family—Waylon, Lori and Lou.”
Picou smiled warmly and extended her hand, first to Lou then to Waylon. She actually reached out and pinched Lori on the cheek. The girl made a startled face, shifting wary eyes to her older sister, but smiled regardless.
Lou shifted her gaze around, not uncomfortable, but definitely not at ease. Guess she had
n’t expected him to throw his mother at her. Not that there was any reason for her to feel weird about it. They weren’t in any sort of relationship. Yet. In fact, he had to spend the next few months forgetting about how delicious the blond construction worker tasted.
Lou licked her lips.
Damn it.
“Nice to meet you both. Waylon has enjoyed getting to know your son. He’s been—”
“—the best coach a boy could have. Yes, I know. He was like that from the very beginning. I remember once when Della was learning to crawl… Um, Della is Sally, but that’s a long story. Anyway, Abram was about seven years old, and he’d get down on his belly and scoot, trying to show her how to crawl. The boy was born to coach.”
Great. His mother sounded like she was trying to sell a used car to the Boyds, and like she might launch into telling them every wonderful thing he’d ever done. “Okay, Mom, the Boyds are probably ready to get on the road. Let’s not hold them up.”
Waylon caught his eye and within the boy’s gaze Abram saw a mixture of bemusement and, perhaps, a longing. This family had no parents to chatter on and on about accomplishments. Waylon had missed out on a crazy mother laundry-listing his accomplishments. Had missed out on an overbearing, but well-intentioned father looking out for his son’s best interests. Waylon and Lori had been cheated, yet also blessed with a person who’d sacrificed in likely more ways than could be seen.
That person looked at him. “You’re not holding us up, and I enjoyed meeting your family and appreciate the staff here at the camp. Waylon just mentioned how much he learned.”
Sally smiled. “As a teacher, I love hearing the impact I make on my students. I bet Abram feels the same.”
His sister looked at him as if she’d imparted something brilliant. He bobbed his head.
“It’s wonderful to be able to make an impact in someone’s life.” Lou’s words were simple, but the emotions that moved through them, along with the way her blue eyes met his sent a zing of something more than awareness between them.
