Team Player: A Sports Romance Anthology

by Adriana Locke

  Our first kiss took place back here under the oak tree, and we buried Fluffy, my poodle, together near the back fence.

  All of this hits me like a flood as my gaze locks with his, and when he speaks, the tone of his voice makes me think maybe it hit him too.

  “I take your mom’s trash to the road every week. While I’m here, I do some odds and ends I see she needs done. It’s not a big deal,” he says softly.

  My heart slams against my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me. “You do? Since when?”

  “I’ve done this for a long time, Kallie. It’s no big deal.”

  “But…why? Why would you do this?”

  His shoulders rise and fall. He rocks back on his heels, twisting his lips together. “What does it matter?”

  “I had no idea,” I say, forcing a swallow.

  “I asked her not to tell you.” He heads toward the gate, taking a curved path so he doesn’t get too close to me. “Believe it or not, I’m not a bad guy.”

  “Cross, wait,” I say, jumping off the table. The words are out of my mouth before I even know I’ve said them, and I have no idea what to follow them up with. There are so many things in my brain competing for a chance to roll off my tongue, and I know I better weigh them all carefully before I choose a thought I don’t want shared.

  He turns to face me, his brows lifted toward the sky. “What?”

  Sucking in a breath, I plead with my brain to use the right filter and go for it. “I know you aren’t a bad guy.”

  He averts his jade eyes, settling his gaze somewhere in the distance. I take the opportunity to study him without the usual glare of a computer screen.

  His jawline is more defined, the angle visible even under the day-old scruff. His lashes are thicker and darker, outlining the set of eyes that seem to have seen so much and, when they turn back to find mine, it causes me to jump. He tries not to notice, but his sly smile gives it away.

  “Sorry,” I grumble, fiddling with a strand of hair.

  “Let’s flip the script for a minute and you tell me why you moved back to Linton.”

  Clearing my throat, I pause. “Well, my old boss seems to be heading to jail for a while. Skylar moved away so Mom was alone, and it’s easier to start again here than in Indy.”

  He doesn’t blink.

  “What?” I ask, furrowing a brow at his lack of a reaction.

  “Just waiting for you to tell the truth.”

  “Um, I did.” On instinct, I tilt my head at him, annoyed.

  “Uh, ya didn’t.”

  “Whatever,” I huff, walking away from him. I stop at the fence and look over the top at the setting sun, feeling a little peace fall over me. The sky is painted a beautiful mosaic of pinks and purples, like a painting done by a master artist. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  His hand touches the small of my back as he steps beside me. Suddenly, the sky isn’t on my radar anymore. All I can focus on is how his hand feels on me, how every nerve is acutely aware of his presence and the pull of his body on mine.

  “It is beautiful out here tonight,” he says softly, “and the sky is pretty too.”

  My cheeks flush as I look at him. “You really can turn on that charm, huh?”

  “I don’t try it too often, but I’m hoping it works out for me today.”

  “Why are you helping my mom, Cross?”

  “Well, the way I see it,” he says, leaning on the rail, “she took care of me for a lot of years when I needed it. She hemmed my baseball pants every year, went to bat for me when Mr. Varian suspended me my junior year…and how many nights did she have something hot and ready for me to eat after practice?”

  “A lot.” I smile. “How many times did she make corn because you liked it and not green beans because you didn’t? I hated you because green beans are my favorite.”

  We exchange a laugh that’s easy and carefree, like two friends on a level most people never ascend to. Once our voices have died down, he pulls away and looks me in the eye. “For the record, I’ve never hated you.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, but even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. The searing gaze penetrating mine halts any words from flowing through my lips.

  “I want you to know that…” His head dips, his sneaker running back and forth across the lawn. “I take responsibility for everything that happened between us.”

  “Cross—”

  “No, it’s my fault. I was the shithead who couldn’t get my life together.” He raises his eyes, a glimmer in the jade orbs. “I admire you.”

  “Me?” I snort. “Why?”

  “You were smart enough to know your worth.” He lays a hand over mine, his palm hot and heavy and swamping mine in size. I can’t look away from them, his tanned skin sitting atop mine. “You taught me a lot, made me who I am, in a roundabout, heartbreaking kind of way.” He chuckles.

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” I ask, his words wrapping around my chest and squeezing it so tight I can barely breathe.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Strangely, I believe that.”

  He twists around and leans against the fence. “Want to talk? Ask questions? Kiss me?”

  “No.” I laugh, taking a step back for my own good. “I just got out of a job that had federal investigators asking me a million questions, and then I packed up my things and moved home. I don’t need any more complications for a minute.”

  “Maybe I won’t complicate it.” He shoots me a grin that melts me from the inside out.

  Pointing a finger his way, I giggle. “You always do.”

  “How’s that?”

  “That grin—it complicates everything, every time.”

  It stretches across his face, reaching from ear to ear, and it pulls mine right along with it. We stand in the setting sun, grinning at each other like two kids as my mother wanders into the back yard.

  “What are you kids doing out here?”

  My entire body sags at the interruption as Cross snickers.

  “Just taking the garbage to the road, Brenda.”

  “Looks to me like you were doing more than that, Mr. Jacobs.”

  “Oh, Mom, hush.”

  Her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “I just want to say seeing you two together makes this old woman’s heart feel full. Reminds me of old times, my two kids happy and together.”

  “That sounds disgusting and illegal,” I say as I laugh.

  “Good thing I’m not known for my law-abiding tendencies,” Cross chimes in, looking at me out of the corner of this eye.

  Mom and I laugh as I punch him in the arm. He feigns injury, shaking his bicep back and forth.

  “Stop it,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You have a terrible punch. It’s embarrassing.”

  “What? If that’s embarrassing, it’s your fault.”

  “How do you figure?” That grin still plays on his lips.

  “You’re the one who taught me to punch!”

  “Oh, no,” he says, pressing his lips together. “I didn’t teach you that. Don’t blame that crap on me.” He captures my gaze, his eyes sparkling. “If you want me to teach you again, I’m happy to.”

  “I don’t really punch people a lot.”

  “Never know,” he teases. “You wouldn’t want to rest on those laurels.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  He pretends to consider this as he circles me and heads to the gate. “Trash is out, Brenda. Fixed the latch on the shed—try not to break it again.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promises. “Want to come in for dinner? I brought home Carlson’s.”

  He stops at the gate and looks at me over his shoulder. My heart skips a beat as I watch him make up his mind. I wish I could ask him to stay, wish I could enjoy our banter for a little while longer, but as he looks back at my mother, I know I’m better off if he says no.

  “I have a private session in fifteen minutes. I better go, but thanks for th
e offer.” With a final look at me, he opens the gate. “See ya around, Kallie girl.”

  “Good night, Cross.”

  Chapter 4

  Cross

  A beer slides across the bar in front of me, stopping only when it hits a set of hands at the end. Machlan’s brother, Walker, snaps it up and shoots me a curious look.

  “How’s it goin’?” he asks, sitting on the stool next to me.

  “It’s goin’.”

  “That good, huh?” He takes a long, steady gulp of alcohol before letting the bottle plunk against the wooden bar top. “Peck took a last-minute job at the shop tonight and I’m just getting out of there.”

  “Should’ve left him there with it,” I offer.

  “Yeah, but he had to jack this piece of shit up in the air and, my luck, I leave and it falls on him or something.” Giving me a frustrated glance, he takes another drink. “In retrospect, may not have been a terrible idea.”

  Peeling at the label of my own bottle, I feign interest in the television. It does no good.

  “Not that I give a fuck, but what’s wrong?” Walker asks.

  “Not a damn thing you want to hear about.”

  “That’s true, and I don’t even know what it is.” He grins. “But, Machlan is keeping his distance, so that means it might be interesting.”

  “It’s not.”

  His chest rumbles with a silent chuckle before downing the rest of his brew. I consider getting up and heading to the pool tables in the back just to get some privacy. If I thought it would actually work, I’d try it, but it won’t—not with this bunch.

  Machlan and I grew up with his brothers, Walker and Lance, and their cousins, Peck and Vincent. We were all close in age and have been tight since preschool.

  If I get up and head to the back, Walker will signal Machlan over and he’ll tell him what’s going on. Walker will rib me for a minute, and if I’m lucky, Peck and Lance won’t join in. Walker will then proceed to tell me I’m a dumbass while giving me some token of advice.

  The problem? I don’t need advice. I need a damn smack to the side of the head.

  Running my hand down my face, frustration jumps back into the driver’s seat of my life. My stomach twists, sloshing the two beers I’ve nursed since I came in this evening.

  “Okay, I won’t play dumb. I know Kallie’s back,” Walker says, stopping for a moment to acknowledge a woman who stopped to whisper something in his ear. Once she’s gone, he turns back to me, but now he’s sidetracked. “That’s the problem with the world right there.”

  My gaze trails after the girl I’ve seen work in the post office then I refocus it on Walker. “What? Easy pieces of ass with great legs?”

  “Yup.” He motions for Machlan to bring him another beer. “Those girls ruin it for everyone.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Good idea,” Peck says, slipping onto the stool on the other side of Walker. “Don’t follow him. This fucker will lead you astray.”

  “Seriously?” Walker looks at his cousin out of the corner of his eye. “When have I led anyone astray?”

  “I think I need to join this conversation,” Machlan says, handing Walker a beer. “When has Walker led anyone astray? What about the time you added a little engine to my skateboard and the thing bolted then tossed me off the ramp you built in the back yard and I broke my collarbone?”

  “That was your fault.” Walker laughs. “Your balance is shit. I had forgotten about that.” He scratches his chin. “You know, that was really a good concept.”

  “I remember that day,” I say, looking at Machlan. “I think my last words to you were ‘This is not a good id—’ I didn’t even get ‘idea’ out before you were on your ass.”

  “Face,” Peck inserts. “I think he was on his face, legs kicking in the air.”

  “Which, in a really weird way, takes us back to pieces of ass with great legs,” I say, circling back to the original point. “How is that the ruination of the world?”

  “Whoever said that, I agree completely,” Machlan adds, shoving off the counter. “The better the ass and legs, the leerier I am of a woman. You get those chunky thighs around your face and—boom! The next thing you know there’s a pink toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom. It’s dumb as hell.”

  Walker laughs. “So is Kallie’s toothbrush back in your bathroom, Cross?”

  Peck’s eyes widen, but he wisely doesn’t say anything. Instead, he hops the bar and rummages through the beer cooler. Machlan lectures him on the law, that he can’t be on that side of the bar without a license, but Peck doesn’t listen. He never does.

  “You saw her,” Walker states.

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  I shrug. Twisting the bottle in my hands, I realize Walker may be the best person in the world to get advice from about this after all. “Fine. I saw her today. We talked for a few minutes and then I saw her again when I went by to do a few things for Brenda.”

  “You have plans to see her again?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to. I tried to cast out some bait, but I’m not sure she took it.”

  He tips back the new bottle, his eyes focused on the television. A vein in his temple pops, and I wonder what he’s going to say. It could be anything with this guy. Whatever it is, it’ll be what he believes to be the truth. That’s all you get from Walker Gibson.

  “Well, in my humble opinion, I say don’t,” he says.

  The finality in his tone irks me. “What do you mean?”

  “Look, I know you liked her—hell, we all did. She was a cool girl and you spent your entire adolescence glued to her hip. Trust me,” he says, staring off into space, “I get that. You have history with her like you never will with anyone else.”

  “It’s not that…”

  “It is.” He turns his attention back to me. “But don’t do that. She left you once. I know that makes me an asshole to say it bluntly like that, but she did it, not me. You tossed that line out there tonight and she didn’t take it. That’s enough for me right there. Fuck her,” he says, bringing the bottle back to his lips.

  My jaw sets, the pulsing almost cracking my back teeth. “Easy there.”

  Peck leans on the countertop and looks at Walker and then at me. “Don’t listen to him unless it has an engine and weighs at least a ton.”

  “Just offering my opinion,” Walker says, getting up. He takes his drinks and meanders toward the back of the bar.

  “Listen,” Peck says, looking at me with his brows tugged together, “he’s wrong.”

  “How the hell do you know?”

  “Because my balls aren’t the ones that ache so bad I can’t see straight.” He grins.

  “If I were giving myself advice, I’d say to forget it too,” I admit. “I see Walker’s point, but then I think about how many nights I go to bed wondering where she is and how often I miss her. Then it seems stupid to pretend I don’t at least want to get to know her again.”

  “You’ve answered your own problem.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Peck shakes his head, downing half his bottle. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sighs. “You said you could pretend, which means…”

  “Yeah…”

  “You have two options here,” he declares. “You can either let this thing go or you can see what you can make out of it. If you pick option one, get over it. You’ll have to, but because I know your ass and know you won’t just get over it because you haven’t since that fight outside of Crave years ago, option two should come with a lot of consideration. You feel me?”

  “I feel you.”

  “Good. Now that’s done, I’m going to see what kind of trouble I can get into tonight.” He winks before disappearing into the growing crowd of bodies behind me.

  I sit for a long while, returning hellos and chiming in to basic chitchat when required. All the while, my mind is replaying the interactions with Kallie from today. With every second that g
oes by, I feel a burn in my gut grow hotter.

  Leaning forward, I grab my wallet out of my pocket and find a twenty. I put it on the counter and set my beer on top of it. “Hey, Mach! I’m out of here,” I say, nodding to the money.

  “Tell her I said hi.” He grins.

  “Fuck off. I’m not going to see her.” I look down at the money and then back up at him again. “Maybe tomorrow after work.”

  Machlan laughs. “Make some time in that busy schedule of yours for me. I want to talk business.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  “Later.”

  Chapter 5

  Kallie

  “You shouldn’t be doing this, Kallie.” Rolling my eyes as I head across the parking lot, I set my sights on the building nestled between the laundromat and a secondhand store. “Now I’m talking to myself—totally losing it.”

  My feet stop and I stand on the edge of the curb, peering into the windows of the gym. The early morning sunlight shines through the glass. Cross is standing in the middle of a stretch of blue mats in a sleeveless shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. A short, caramel-haired woman in all spandex stands in front of him. She’s facing me, her hands running through the air as she tells Cross a story. He’s watching her, his arms folded in front of him, one eyebrow cocked in the air.

  My skin suddenly feels too tight, too unforgiving as I try to draw air into my lungs. When her hand rests on the curve of his bicep, I squeeze my car keys so hard that the alarm goes off behind me.

  “Shit!” I mumble, twisting around and shoving the keyring toward the parking lot. “Stop it. Stop it!” Pressing the button repeatedly, the frantic beeping finally stops. “Sorry,” I call out to a woman and her child as they climb into the car next to mine. She gives me a look like I’m crazy before speeding off.

  I take a deep breath as I feel a gaze on my back. Turning around, I see Cross and the woman in the gym are watching me. I contemplate saving some face and fleeing, but Cross is stalking toward me before I can make a break for it.