Summer Attractions

by Beth Bolden

  Jemma blushed and leaned over, kissing him before she could even remember that it had been days since she’d gotten to do that. It just felt right and natural. He must have agreed because he pulled her close to him, deepening the kiss even though they were still in the stands.

  By the time they managed to detach their lips, the last of the crowd was trickling through the exits.

  Jemma flushed. “Maybe we should go?” she asked, a little embarrassed and a lot happy that they’d managed to outstay just about everybody else.

  Gabe stood up and held out his hand to her. “Lots of better places we could go, lots of other things we could be doing,” he said with a naughty smirk, and it was enough to make Jemma go hot all over with the collective memory of just how true that was.

  By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs and went through the exit, the majority of the crowd had trickled out, the huge empty concourses littered with confetti and only a few janitors, trying to sweep up.

  The crowd outside the stadium was . . . well, Jemma probably would have not-very-creatively described it as drunk and disorderly.

  Jemma had never understood how mobs in the throes of victory could be even more destructive than anyone who had a legitimate beef with authority. She watched as police and private security edged close, and then retreated as she heard the harsh tinkling of glass breaking.

  Gabe moved faster, tugging her insistently, making sure they stayed together. As they skirted around the edge, Gabe kept his hand securely clasped to hers, his body between the seething, belligerent mass and her own. She might’ve not been grateful for his protection every time, but she was that day, squeezing his firm grip even tighter. At the curb, he found a cab quickly, and she scooted in and let out the breath she’d been holding as it pulled away from what looked like an increasingly scary situation.

  Jemma leaned back against the seat, glancing over at Gabe, who had tight lines around his eyes and mouth. He didn’t look happy at all. “Duncan’s going to be pissed that I didn’t stick around,” she admitted, though she knew telling Gabe that was likely like flashing red at a bull.

  He ran a hand over his face and laughed dryly, with not much amusement. “Don’t tell me that,” he said.

  Jemma shrugged. “You go around telling girls you love them, they’re liable to lose their brain-to-mouth filter with you.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Is that so?” There was real amusement in his voice now. Jemma loved hearing it. Of all the reasons why she was incredibly happy that he’d told her how he felt, the sharp pang of vindication that she’d been right all along didn’t even hit the top ten, but she enjoyed it all the same.

  She nodded and he scooted closer in the cab, his thigh brushing hers, the heat of him making her mouth go a little dry. “Nothing to say to me, then?” he asked, eyes sparkling. He knew, she didn’t doubt that one bit. After all, he was a detective; it was his job to discover the truth.

  She gave him a bit of his own medicine and just smirked, practically a patented Gabriel Rocha maneuver.

  He sat back in the seat and groaned a little. “You’re a menace,” he teased.

  “And you like it.”

  “I like just about everything about you,” he admitted softly, looking down at his hands as his fingers picked at a growing hole in the knee of his jeans. “That’s never happened before. Not for me.”

  Jemma thought about it. Thought about replying with some quick retort, some sarcastic remark, something like, I’m sure it’ll pass. But the serious tone of his voice, the way he couldn’t quite meet her gaze, she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate the humor now. It was a big admission, and she needed to meet it with one of her own.

  So she reached over, tangling her fingers with his again. She scooted closer and leaned her head onto his shoulder. “For me either,” she admitted softly, then hesitated. It had been big, accepting his love when he’d confessed it. It felt bigger to take the leap herself. She’d never done it before. Not with Colin. Not with anyone. It was terrifying, and she understood better how he could’ve been so scared and had tried to deflect with Nick when he’d tried to get too close to the truth.

  “I love you too,” she finally said, so soft that she hoped he could hear her. She looked up at him, trying to confirm, and the look on his face was enough to prove it. Then he was cradling her face in his hands and kissing her and it felt like everything.

  Gabe had the taxi driver drop them off at the beach instead of at the hotel. “This okay?” he said, as they climbed out of the cab and he thrust some bills through the passenger window. “I’m not ready to coop myself up quite yet. It’s nice out tonight.”

  It was nice out, the sun setting across Guanabara Bay in a spectacular show of red and yellow and orange, the colors blazing across the sky. Jemma snapped a few pictures and they took a selfie, her lips pressed to his cheek, and she didn’t feel a single bit of guilt as she posted it to her social media. Colin would definitely see it, and he’d be happy for her, she knew.

  There were quite a few texts waiting for her. There was a message from Kimber, a single winky face, and Jemma texted her back one word: traitor. Jemma added a heart eyes emoji for good measure then glanced up at Gabe, not wanting to spend more time on her phone now that he’d finally gotten his head out of his ass. But she knew several of the messages were from Duncan and Nick. They’d email if it wasn’t timely or important.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go grab us some food and drinks. Find a bench, and we’ll eat.”

  He pressed a kiss to her top of her head, long and lingering, like he could barely stand to let her go, now that they’d finally fixed things.

  Jemma walked up and down the boardwalk, looking for an empty bench, but found they were all occupied by tourists appreciating the sunset. She finally headed for the beach, figuring they could sit out here one last time. She texted Gabe, letting him know where she’d ended up and then buckled down to read the messages from Nick and Duncan.

  Like she’d expected, they’d heard about the mob scene at the stadium after the game, and both expressed their hope that she was okay and Duncan added that he knew she was busy but he thought it would be a great angle for a last article.

  Unfortunately Jemma agreed. It was just the sort of angle she liked, and she already knew exactly how she’d write it. She’d already started composing it in her head, compiling a list of resources she’d need and info she’d need from the statistics bureau.

  Gabe must have known it was coming because when he found her, his hands full of cardboard trays and cups, he wore a resigned expression.

  “Let me guess,” he said as he settled down on the sand next to her. “I’m going to be losing you for the next twelve hours.”

  She shot him an extremely apologetic look. “I can say no, you know,” she said.

  “But you don’t want to say no,” he said steadily, no accusation whatsoever. No guilt. Nothing except the same thing he’d been giving her practically since the first day: support when she needed it. It was one of the reasons, Jemma realized, that she’d fallen in love with him. He wasn’t selfish. He never demanded her attention, only took what she was able to give and enjoyed every second of it.

  “I don’t want to say no,” she admitted, picking at the empanadas he’d brought her, holding her breath a little. She thought she knew what he might say, but it felt as if the first test of their relationship was coming sooner than she’d expected it might.

  He smiled at her. “Then don’t say no. I’m fine. I’m perfectly okay with whatever. My girlfriend’s a famous journalist.” He shrugged. “It’d be stupid to be angry that god forbid, people want her to write articles.”

  She couldn’t help but beam back. “Girlfriend, huh?”

  Gabe gave an exaggerated shrug, eyes shining with the same happiness she felt. “Don’t tell her,” he teased, “she might not be too happy about it.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Jemma retorted with glee, “she’s thril
led.”

  Jemma couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.

  Her first morning back, she flew into the Five Points morning meeting, all bashful smiles and a litany of stay calm, you’re cool; stay calm, you’re cool, running through her head as she careened into her normal seat around the big round table they used for meetings.

  Duncan raised his eyebrow at her. “Keane,” he drawled, “so kind of you to join us this morning. You’re looking . . . rested.”

  The truth was, Gabe had stayed at her apartment last night and as it turned out, he had rather . . . inventive alternatives to the alarm clock. However, without the convenience of the snooze button, there was nothing to keep her on schedule, and she’d pulled into the parking lot with only a few seconds to spare.

  After five very necessary minutes in the Starbucks line downstairs, she was only four and a half minutes late to the Monday meeting.

  The good news was that after she’d done such a good job in Rio, she knew had a bit of a free pass.

  The bad news was that she’d totally forgotten that the Los Angeles’ Rams first home preseason game was this week. Against the Miami Piranhas.

  The team that had selected Colin first in the last NFL draft, the team he would be making his debut at quarterback for.

  There was that normal excitement in the thought she was going to see him again, because she loved him—not the way he wanted, but all the same—but also a little tremor of something else. She was going to have to do it in a professional capacity because in just two days, he was stopping by Five Points. Not just as her friend, but as Colin O’Connor, Heisman-winning, brand spanking new NFL quarterback.

  She didn’t know how she could have forgotten. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips, very aware of the slight tremble in her hand, and then realized the space around her had grown alarmingly quiet.

  “Jemma,” Nick barked out, the rasp of his voice a little harsher since the knife in his stomach. “Duncan asked if you’ve talked to Colin.”

  Sometimes she really hated how her personal and professional lives had collided.

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  A month ago, she wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, but she’d also done a lot of really good things in the last few weeks, and it wasn’t like anyone around this table needed the reminder. Or maybe they did.

  “Right, okay, well, we’ve been planning in your absence. Just because you’re the most familiar with Colin O’Connor doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t be too,” Nick said testily.

  Jemma nearly reminded him that he was still supposed to be resting. He supposed to be restricted to only four hours per day in the office, but everyone knew it was lucky if he only worked eight.

  Nick outlined the plan for Colin’s visit to the Five Points offices, the day after the preseason game.

  Colin had pulled strings with his organization so he could stay past the normal departure of the rest of the team. Jemma knew it hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it for her. Jemma glanced around at her co-workers and wondered if any of them had ever suspected their friendship was only a friendship.

  Thankfully, the meeting finally ended and Jemma was able to dodge the many curious looks and head back to the corner of the office she and Nick worked out of.

  Nick had a corner office with a life-size cardboard cutout of Stephen Curry and framed pictures on the walls of him and countless other sports stars: Rory McIlroy, Tom Brady, Serena and Venus Williams, Adrian Peterson. Like she’d really needed another reminder of the experience that separated them.

  Or had separated them. She very much planned on framing that first selfie she’d taken with Kimber.

  Jemma glanced at her own cubicle, located within shouting distance of Nick’s doorway, and ignored the picture on her desk. It was her and Colin at her graduation the year before, his arm around her, both of them beaming into the camera. She’d never considered that picture in any way equitable to Nick’s collection, but with a little distance, she wasn’t sure how different they really were.

  “Is this going to be too weird for you?”

  Jemma glanced up and Nick was standing in the entrance to the cubicle, one of those infuriatingly blank expressions on his face. Next he was probably going to ask her to fetch him a coffee, even though he’d promised he wouldn’t do that anymore. And that she’d get to write stories and her own byline.

  “Weird?” she asked, because she didn’t really want to answer the question. Delay was the only course of action. Nick was like a rat with a succulent piece of cheese when he wanted to know something. And Cardinal Rule #1 was that he didn’t ask if he didn’t want to know.

  “You and O’Connor.”

  “You mean, because I’m dating Gabe.” Another good method of unsettling Nick was to be even more forcefully direct than he was. She glanced up at her boss and held his gaze firmly. So much for her believing that he hadn’t accurately guessed their situation earlier. He’d probably known it five minutes into her first job interview.

  “Right.”

  It was too early to have this conversation. Jemma only wanted to open her laptop and start sorting through the many emails she’d ignored while she’d been in Rio.

  Which illustrated just how much she didn’t want to talk about it. Especially with Nick.

  “Colin and I are friends. We’ve only ever been friends,” she said steadily. “It’s not going to be a problem.”

  “Good, good.” Nick looked more unsettled than she’d ever seen him. She wasn’t sure if it was the conversation or that he was still recovering.

  This was the first time she’d seen him up close since the incident, and now that she looked, she realized that he didn’t look good. His dark, rumpled hair was even more of a mess than normal, some tufts standing nearly on end, and there were deep dark grooves under his gray eyes. He was normally a handsome man, put together and direct, kind of like the weapon that had been shoved into his gut. But Jemma knew from looking at him that he wasn’t okay.

  “I should be asking you the same question,” she said. “Are you even supposed to be here?”

  “I’m here four hours a day.”

  Jemma made a scoffing noise and that weaseled the first tiny smile out of him she’d seen that morning.

  He shoved a hand through his hair. Jemma tried not to be mesmerized by the electrocuted look he was currently sporting. “This is a big event. Your articles brought in a bunch of readers. Our numbers are crazy. If we can capitalize on this visit with O’Connor, we’ll solidify this position.” He paused. “Duncan finally agreed to the live video interview.”

  She smiled at the pride in his eyes. Nick had been lobbying for something more than the recorded podcast interviews that he’d become popular for. “We’re setting up my office for the piece. Come look.”

  Jemma followed him to his office, struggling to ignore the way he walked—slow and careful, like he was trying to hold himself together.

  The Stephen Curry cutout had disappeared and the old camel leather couch had been replaced by two navy blue captain’s chairs. Sound and camera equipment and thick cables snaked across the floor.

  The wall of Nick and sports stars he was so proud of had stayed. She rolled her eyes. “Your ego is truly out of control,” she said, but it was fondly. She couldn’t tell him she was worried about him, but seeing a part of him, so perfectly preserved, laid some of her fear to rest.

  “If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” he said, with a smug, slanting grin in her direction.

  “You’re quiet,” Gabe said after swallowing a mouthful of General Tso’s chicken.

  Jemma gestured with a pair of chopsticks. “First day back in the office,” she said vaguely. “You know how it is.”

  He set his chopsticks down and gave her a reproving look. “You can just say it, you know,” he said. “I know he’s coming here.”

  “Sometimes I wish you were a little stupider,” Jemma admitted with a wry smile.

  “Then you wouldn’t love me,
” he said. And it was probably true.

  “He’s going to want to meet you,” she said before she lost her nerve.

  All afternoon that was all she’d been able to think about. Colin was going to want to meet Gabe.

  Not want. Demand, probably. Playfully but seriously. He was all about protecting her, watching out for her. He’d want to meet the man she’d lost her heart to, even if it wasn’t him. Especially if it wasn’t him.

  “Of course,” Gabe said, returning to his takeout like this was perfectly normal. Totally okay. Nothing weird to see here at all.

  “Just . . . of course?” Jemma yelped a little. She tried to not get over dramatic, but she didn’t see how he could act like this was all commonplace.

  Gabe set his chopsticks down again and shot her an amused look. “If you and I only managed to ever be friends, just friends, and you fell in love with some guy in another country in only a few weeks, I would sure as hell want to meet him.”

  “I just . . .” Jemma couldn’t get the words past her suddenly uncooperative throat.

  Reaching over, Gabe tugged her hand into his, cradling it. “I’m not an insensitive asshole,” he said. “I’m not going to rub it in, or be a dick to him. I can be civilized, you know.”

  “I know,” Jemma said, punctuating with an eye roll, tugging her hand away and trying to return to her dinner though she wasn’t that hungry. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Believe me, I know what it feels to lose you.” He stuffed another mouthful of chicken into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine what it might feel like to want you and never have you.”

  Colin was only a year removed from the man in the photograph on her desk, but he also felt like a stranger as the elevator opened, and Jemma saw him standing there.

  He’d always been handsome—tall and strong and so ridiculously all-American, a local boy made good even though he wasn’t local at all—but he’d grown into himself over the last year. There was confidence and certainty in his blue eyes, in the nearly arrogant curve of his jawline.