Hometown Girl

by Margaret Watson

  He kicked the chair out of his way. He hated his stupid hip, hated that he limped. Hated that he couldn’t do anything about it. But he was in charge of his inhaler.

  She looked at him steadily. “Are you going to do it again?”

  “I guess not,” he muttered.

  “All right.”

  She watched him for a moment, and he squirmed. “Can I go now?”

  She nodded. “I think you’ve been punished enough,” she said softly.

  He wanted to storm out of the room, slam his bedroom door behind him. But something in her eyes stopped him. She looked sad, he realized. Sad for him?

  He pushed the thought away. Of course not. How could you feel sad for someone you were stuck with? And she was stuck with him. He didn’t care how much she said she wanted to stay with him. How much she said she wasn’t going anywhere without him.

  Sooner or later, she’d leave.

  That’s what everyone did.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TUCKER PUSHED Claire’s doorbell, both anticipation and uneasiness humming through him. He jiggled the coins in his pocket as he waited. What if she was upset at the change in plans?

  “Hi,” Claire said as the door opened. “Come on in.”

  His hand stilled as he looked at her. A slim green dress flowed down her body, hugging all the curves he’d already noticed. The color of the dress mirrored her eyes. Her hair was a smooth, shiny wave that rippled around her shoulders when she moved.

  Oh yeah. Claire Kendall definitely made his hormones stand up and pay attention. He was almost grateful to Nick for screwing up with his inhaler. It had given him the perfect excuse to ask Claire to dinner.

  Her hand tightened on the door when she noticed what he was wearing. “It looks like I’m way over-dressed,” she said, looking at his cutoff shorts, T-shirt and sandals.

  “Don’t apologize for that dress,” he said, dragging his gaze to her face again. “You look great.” He wondered if the material was as silky as it looked. “But there’s been a slight change of plans,” he said.

  “What happened?”

  “The team pasta party has been moved to my house.” He shot her an easy grin. “The parents who were supposed to host it had a plumbing emergency. Their toddler wanted to see if his stuffed puppy could swim.”

  Her mouth curled in an answering smile, then she shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We can get together some other time to talk about Nick.”

  “I’m counting on that. As far as tonight goes, I’m throwing myself on your mercy. You’re not going to make me face that houseful of boys alone, are you?”

  “I’m having trouble dealing with one teenage boy, let alone a whole team of them. Are you sure you want me to help you with the pasta party?” She looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

  “Absolutely.” He smiled, enjoying her awkwardness. He guessed Claire Kendall didn’t get flustered too often.

  “All right,” she said, doubt in her voice. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  “Great.” He looked at the green dress again. “But you should probably wear something different,” he said, real regret in his voice.

  She looked down and smoothed her hands down the material. “Right. It’ll just take me a minute to change.”

  She ran up the stairs, and he closed the door and looked around. The house was clean, but everything inside it looked tired. The furniture was lumpy, the upholstery faded. Dull paint covered the walls, and the woodwork was chipped and yellowing. The carpeting on the stairs to the second floor was worn on every tread.

  “Depressing, isn’t it?” Claire reappeared at the top of the stairs and headed down, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. She followed his gaze into the living room. “I don’t think my mother did anything to this house in the last twenty years.”

  “It looks like it needs a lot of work.”

  “It does.” She looked around the room. “I’m hoping Nick and I can bond over paint chips and floor sanders,” she said. Her voice was light, but he heard the pain beneath her words.

  “If you need any help, give me a call. I can find my way around a lot of remodeling projects.”

  “Thanks,” she said, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “But I’m not even sure where to begin.”

  “Make sure there are power tools,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from tucking that shiny curl of hair behind her ear. “Males can’t resist power tools.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She flashed him a quick smile.

  He held the door open and waited for her to precede him into the sunlight. Her light, flowery scent brushed past him as she walked by, and he took a deep breath before he could stop himself. Her hair gleamed like fire in the sun and she lifted her face to the sky.

  “It’s a beautiful evening,” she said.

  “Yeah, it is,” he murmured. Sunlight warmed her skin and made it look almost translucent. What would it feel like beneath his palm?

  She glanced over at him and caught him watching her. A hint of color washed her cheeks, then she looked away.

  “How do these parties work?” she asked as they drove toward his house, and he smiled to himself at the breathy tone in her voice. She didn’t sound quite as cool and collected anymore.

  “The kids bring the ingredients and the parents throw everything together. Enormous quantities of pasta, garlic bread and salad are consumed, and the team spends time together outside of practices and games. It’s a little corny, but the kids love it and it’s a sacred tradition.”

  “You’re saying you need help boiling water and chopping lettuce?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “I need help keeping my sanity,” he answered easily. “Without a female presence, the testosterone level would be dangerously high.”

  “Maybe I should have brought a whip and chair,” she said.

  “Not necessary. That quelling stare of yours will settle them right down.”

  “I do not have a quelling stare,” she said, indignant.

  He snorted. “You could cut glass with that look, honey. I was shaking in my shoes when you came marching to practice to confront me.”

  She settled back against the seat with a rueful chuckle. “You have never shaken in your shoes in your life.”

  “You’re wrong. You pretty much knocked me out of my socks that day,” he said softly.

  She straightened with a startled look, but before she could answer he swung into his driveway and stopped. “Here we are. Madhouse central.”

  She glanced at the house and stilled on the seat. Finally she turned to him. “This is your house?” she asked.

  He shrugged and draped his arm across the back of her seat as he followed her gaze. “Yeah.”

  Teenage boys raced across the wraparound porch and down the stairs, whooping and hollering. The sinking sun highlighted the gingerbread trim, painted in shades of blue, green and violet, against the mellow glow of the pale-yellow Victorian house.

  “I remember this house,” she said, wonder in her voice. “The windows were mostly broken and the porch was full of holes. We all thought it was haunted when I was a kid.” She shifted in the seat to look at him. “It’s beautiful. The transformation is amazing.”

  “Yeah, well, teachers don’t have a lot to do during the summer,” he said. He rolled his shoulders. “I had a lot of time on my hands when I moved here two years ago.” Remodeling the house had saved him when he’d first come to Monroe. Exhausting physical labor was the only thing that kept the demons of guilt and loss at bay during the endless nights.

  “You did this yourself?”

  “I had some help,” he said.

  She slid out of the car and walked up the steps. He opened the front door for her, but she stopped abruptly.

  “I’m impressed, Tucker,” she said softly.

  “It’s just a house,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice. “The kitchen is back here.”

  The sound of female voi
ces drifted down the hall, and he felt her hesitate beside him. Then she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and walked into the kitchen. He noticed the wary, guarded expression on her face and filed it away for future reference.

  When Claire walked into the kitchen, she saw three women moving around the enormous room, already at work. They looked up, smiling, when Claire and Tucker walked in.

  “It seems the cavalry has ridden to the rescue,” Tucker said with a smile. “How did you know I needed you?”

  A woman with short dark hair grinned at him. “Sue Berger called and told me about the switch. You didn’t think we’d make you deal with this by yourself, did you?”

  “The thought of it had me cowering in fear. So I went out and found a rookie who didn’t know what she was agreeing to,” Tucker said.

  The woman with the dark hair turned her attention to Claire. She gave her an appraising glance, then smiled. “Hi,” she said. “You must be Nick’s aunt.”

  “I’m Claire Kendall,” she said, putting a little distance between herself and Tucker. The woman’s eyes were a little too shrewd.

  “I’m Judy Johnson,” the woman answered, and introduced the other two women. “What job would you like?”

  “Whatever you need me to do.”

  The woman gave an approving nod. “How about making the salad?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She pulled open the commercial refrigerator and set the salad ingredients on the granite counter. Judy caught her eye as she surveyed the kitchen.

  “Quite the place, isn’t it?”

  “It’s amazing.”

  Judy grinned. “It’s a sin for a single man to have a kitchen like this. We’re all green with envy.”

  “I can see why. It’s gorgeous,” Claire said.

  “If the teaching and coaching don’t work out, he definitely has a future in construction,” one of the other women said with a smile.

  “And word is he looks great in a tool belt,” the other woman said.

  All of the women laughed, and Tucker rolled his eyes.

  “You keep talking like that, I’m going to have to leave,” he said. “Once this kind of talk starts, a smart man knows it’s time to disappear.”

  “You think this is rough talk? If you abandon us to those boys we’ll really get down and dirty,” Judy teased.

  “You’re a hard woman, Judy Johnson,” Tucker said. He looked over at Claire. “See what I have to put up with?”

  “Yeah, I can see you have a rough life,” she said.

  “You’re ganging up on me, too?” he asked Claire, his face a picture of disappointment. But his eyes twinkled at her. “And here I thought you’d be on my side.”

  Something fluttered in her chest at that twinkle. Anticipation shivered through her.

  “Women stick together,” Judy said, pointing a knife at Tucker. “You’d be smart to remember that.”

  “I can’t seduce you to the dark side?” he asked Claire. His mouth curled up in a half smile, but something hot flashed in his eyes, something meant only for her.

  An answering ribbon of lust uncurled inside her. She struggled to keep her voice light. “I’m going with the majority here, mister. Judy has a knife.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “All right, ladies. I know enough to make a strategic retreat when I’m outnumbered. I’m going to sit at the table, roll the cutlery into the napkins and mind my own business.”

  “I like a man who knows his place,” Judy said with a grin. “Doing the menial labor. At least you’re good for something.”

  Tucker raised one eyebrow. “Oh, we’re good for one or two other things.” He let his gaze drift to Claire, held hers for a long moment. She fumbled with the vegetables on the counter, heat creeping up the back of her neck.

  Judy slid a cutting board toward her, and Claire grabbed it. Tucker leaned back in his chair, folding plastic knives and forks into napkins. He was completely at ease with the teasing. In fact, he was having fun.

  Tucker was a man who truly enjoyed women, she realized. Another spurt of lust shot through her.

  Time to change the subject. “What you’ve done with this house is amazing.”

  “You like it?” Tucker asked.

  “We used to call this the haunted house when I was a kid,” Claire said, letting her gaze wander around the bright, welcoming kitchen. Keeping her gaze away from Tucker. “It’s hard to believe it’s the same place.”

  “You grew up in Monroe?” Judy asked, her eyes sharpening with interest. Tucker stopped folding and looked over at her.

  “Yes. I moved away when I was twenty.” Claire braced herself for the shock of recognition in Judy’s eyes.

  Judy gave her a sympathetic look. “I remember hearing that when your sister was killed. It’s nice to be able to come home. My husband and I moved here five years ago,” Judy said, slathering butter on garlic bread. “It’s a great town.”

  “Nick seems to like it.” Claire concentrated on cutting the lettuce. Was it possible that Judy hadn’t heard the rumors about the Kendalls?

  “You moved here to be with Nick?” one of the other women asked, polite curiosity in her voice.

  “Temporarily.” Claire forced a smile. “I planned to take him back to Chicago, but we decided it would be better to stay here for a while.”

  “You picked up and left your job, moved all the way here from Chicago?” the third woman said, awe in her voice.

  “He’s my nephew and he needed me,” Claire said with a shrug.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Tucker stop folding napkins and turn to study her. Her neck tingled and her stomach jittered. Did the other women notice?

  “What did you do in Chicago?” Judy asked with a friendly smile.

  She could do this. This was nothing more than a typical get-acquainted conversation. Judy and the other two women didn’t care about her history in Monroe. They were just parents with kids on the same team, getting together to make a dinner for their sons.

  And she was enjoying it, she realized with a shock. She was enjoying the camaraderie of the women, the fun of ganging up on Tucker, the easy conversation.

  “I’m an accountant,” she said, relaxing. “It was easy enough to work from Monroe for a while.”

  They continued to talk, discussing the school, their kids and the football season. Finally, when the food was ready and waiting in large bowls on the counter, Tucker walked to the back door and called the kids for dinner.

  He turned around and grinned at Claire. “You might want to brace yourself.”

  The boys swarmed through the kitchen, piling their paper plates with enormous mounds of spaghetti, bread and salad. Shreds of lettuce littered the counter, and blobs of bright red sauce splattered on the tile floor. The boys sprawled on every chair and available inch of the floor, wolfing down the food.

  They ate until the food was gone, including the various desserts that replaced the spaghetti on the counters, then they charged out of the house again. In moments, they were playing a noisy game of touch football in Tucker’s huge backyard.

  “Now you see why I didn’t want to face this alone,” Tucker said to her with a grin. “It’s a scary sight.”

  “It’s a little overwhelming,” Claire admitted. “You do this before every game?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “That’s right, you told me this was your first year as coach.”

  “Yep. I’m learning right along with the kids,” he said, his voice easy.

  Judy rolled her eyes. “As if there’s anything you don’t know about football,” she said.

  “There are plenty of things I need to learn,” Tucker protested. “I never coached before.”

  One of the women noticed Claire’s questioning look.

  “Tucker was in the NFL. He used to play football for Chicago.”

  Judy snorted. “Play for them? Heck, he was the team.” She shot Claire a grin. “There are plenty of fans in Monroe
. And they were pretty excited when they heard that Choo Choo was coming to teach at Monroe High. For the past two years they’ve been salivating at the thought of him coaching the team.”

  “Choo Choo?”

  Judy laughed again. “His nickname. Because he ran people over like an express train. Mr. Easygoing here hit so hard that the other player didn’t want to get up off the ground. They said he was the meanest SOB in the NFL.”

  “The meanest man in the NFL?” Claire stared at him, shocked. “And now you’re coaching our boys?”

  Tucker waved his hand. “That stuff is all marketing and hype,” he said, but there was a shadow in his eyes. “A way to sell the team and the products that sponsor it.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly. Tucker Hall was clearly more than the easygoing man she’d met so far.

  “A lot of the parents want you to teach their boys how to hit like you did,” one of the women said to Tucker.

  There was a flash of irritation in his eyes. “I don’t care what a lot of the parents want,” he said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “My priorities are teaching them how to play a clean game and be good sports.”

  Judy smiled at Claire. “Everyone in town is excited about the game tomorrow. We all want to see what Tucker’s done with the kids. Are you coming to the game?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  They talked easily as they washed and dried the dishes. Tucker’s past wasn’t mentioned again, and Claire slowly relaxed. The Tucker she’d seen so far didn’t seem like a violent man. And surely the school wouldn’t have hired him if he weren’t a good teacher.

  When they finished, Judy and the other two women smiled and said their goodbyes. “We’ll see you at the game tomorrow,” they called as they closed the front door.

  “Come sit on the porch with me,” Tucker said, holding the screen door for her.

  She eased into a chair next to him and searched for Nick. To her surprise, he was laughing and running with a group of boys, tossing a football back and forth. His limp didn’t seem as noticeable as usual.

  Tucker must have followed her gaze. “Being on the team has been good for him so far,” he said quietly.