by Taylor Hart
Rushing, she put a comb through the hair she’d pulled out of a ponytail and surveyed her outfit: skinny jeans, white boots, a red silk shirt that hugged in the right places, and a white hat to match. She felt ridiculous. Her friend, Samantha Chase, a girl from the paper who wrote the Dear Abby article, had talked her into blowing off steam and going out country dancing tonight. It’d been so long since she’d been out dancing and she didn’t really want to go, but she wanted normalcy. Wanted a life. Wanted to quit feeling sad all the time.
“You look great,” her father said as he heavily walked past the bathroom and glanced in. “It’s good for you to go out and have fun.” Lately, he’d been harassing her about getting to know more people and having friends.
Glancing at her father, she asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight?” She wondered if she should leave him alone; he’d had a treatment yesterday and it’d worn him out.
Striding down the hall, he waved a hand in dismissal. “Of course.”
She followed him into the living room.
He sat in his La-Z-Boy recliner and popped it back. “Got me some John Wayne movies ready to go, and frankly, it’ll be nice not to be henpecked for a change.” The side of his lip turned up in defiance at her.
Glaring at the old man, she hated how he could be so prickly, even while fighting for his life. She marched into the kitchen, picked up a bottle of water and some popcorn she’d made, and put on the table next to him. “Fine.”
He smirked and took some popcorn. “You’re too good to me. Go have fun.”
Hesitating briefly, she let out a breath. “Okay.” She went to the key ring on the wall to pull her keys off.
Her phone buzzed and she saw a text from Samantha. ‘You’re gonna love tonight. See you at seven.’
A distraction. Yes, this was good. She needed it after agreeing to do that article on the myth, the man, the legend who had come back from a career-ending injury, Anthony Kincaid. A thrill of anticipation rippled through her as she thought about going out dancing. “See you later, Dad.”
“I want to be in bed before you get home, so make it midnight,” he called after her.
It made her smile. She walked through the door and thought about how they had one more treatment next week, then they would do a scan the following week and check to see if the cancer had shrunk or not.
Opening the garage, she went to her Honda Civic. A sensible, good-gas-mileage car. Endlessly, her father had teased her about how it was un-American to drive anything but a Ford.
She got into her vehicle, only to be blinded by headlights. She squinted at the approaching vehicle. A Ford, no less. She recognized Anthony’s truck from a couple of weeks ago when he’d brought the flowers, and swore. He had to be here about the article. Watching in the rearview mirror as he got out of the truck, she noticed he wore jeans and a tight blue Texas Titans shirt.
She got out of the car.
He let out a low whistle. “Dang, you’re looking good.”
Instantly, she was self-conscious of the boots and hat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, more sourly than she meant.
He wandered over, looking her up and down. “Obviously, you have plans tonight.”
She got a whiff of some cologne, different from the cologne he’d worn in high school. She regretted even thinking that. It’d been hard to scrub Anthony Kincaid from her brain, and she didn’t need him back in it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kincaid?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Mr. Kincaid, she says. I guess you weren’t feeling that kind of respect when you tore me to pieces in that article?”
She hated the twinge of satisfaction that he was here to confront her. Hated that she’d written the article hoping for this reaction. Hated how much her heart raced and how all she could think about was kissing him again. “I just wrote the truth,” she said coolly.
His face screwed up into a humorous look. “Right, Cass.” He pointed to her boots. “You gotta be going out dancing in those, ’cause they’re new. So who are you going with?”
Was she seeing jealousy on Anthony’s face? “So what if I am going out?” she countered, her heart still thudding in her chest. She couldn’t stop from smiling, noticing how his facial hair was just at that perfectly sexy stage. Not too long, not too short. She wanted to reach out and touch it.
He reached up and rubbed his hand against his face, as if he sensed her thoughts. “Checking out the facial hair? I guess you left before I could grow a beard properly, didn’t you?”
Frustrated, she waved the comment away. “Please don’t …” She felt mystified by this whole experience. How she could feel like it was then and now? It was giving her whiplash.
He crossed his arms, looking like the soldier her fiancé had been. Kyle hadn’t been as tall as Anthony or as well built. The Kincaids were built like army tanks themselves. Truly like the Greek gods Kade was compared to all the time. Briefly, she wondered what Greek god she would compare Anthony to.
He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Cass.”
She bristled, annoyed he’d pulled her from her thoughts yet hating that she’d been distracted by Greek god comparisons. “What?”
His mouth quirked up in a grin. “I’m flattered, really, that you’ve thought of me that much. I find it comforting, you sitting over your computer, pining for me, thinking about me—truly all that anger in the article and all that research just proves I’ve been on your mind.”
If she could throw daggers with her eyes, he’d be dead, because he was partly right.
“Are you going to slap me again?” he asked softly, then pointed to his right cheek. “You can. I would only ask that you smack this cheek this time.” He winked at her. “Just to even things out a bit better.”
Now she did itch to slap him. “You’re so … arrogant.”
He laughed, putting up his hands and surrendering. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Hey, I heard you agreed to do the exclusive on me. I’m excited.”
“Yet I’m regretting it at this moment.” She muttered.
He let out another laugh. “We’ll have fun.”
She rushed to get in her car. “Please move out of the way. I don’t want to be late.” She said over her shoulder.
He was fast, putting out an arm, preventing her from opening the car door. “So who is the guy you’re dating?”
The movement took her off guard and she stumbled. Of course he caught her, and they both paused upon noticing they were in each other’s arms. His breath warmed her face. The intensity of first love sprinted to catch up to them.
Tugging free, she righted herself. “I’m not dating anyone,” she said quickly, her heart rate surging. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She tried to push past him, but it was like moving a boulder. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Finally, he let her through, though not without holding the car door open. While she struggled to yank it from his powerful grip and slam it shut, he said, “Please, don’t leave. Just talk to me.”
The desperation in his voice stopped her. She glanced up at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes.
“Please, we could start the article tonight.” His voice was soft.
Their eyes held, and a cocktail of emotions swirled in her chest.
His eyebrows shot up. “If it’s not a date, can I come?”
She thought about all the times they’d danced together when his mother had insisted she learn. With a sigh, she relented. “I’m just going to a dance club with a couple of people.”
His face flashed into a smile. “The new one that just opened?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “A couple of my teammates are already there. C’mon, Cass, old times. We were good dance partners.”
She hesitated.
“Just let me come,” he said quietly. “Please.”
There would be no resisting him; she could tell already from the smoldering in his eyes.
He took a step back and
motioned for her to get out. “C’mon, I’ll drive. It’ll be fun.”
She shook her head. No, this was a bad idea. She had to keep a professional distance.
He tilted his head to the side and gave her puppy dog eyes. “We could start the article on the way.”
As much as she wanted to say no again, it was a good idea. “Fine,” she agreed, getting out of her car.
He stepped back, a stupid grin washing over his face. “Great.”
Pointing at him, she clarified. “This is only research, nothing else. Not a date. Not a friend thing, even. We’re just …” Her words felt jumbled. “I’m only letting you come with me because of the article.” She marched toward his truck.
He got to the passenger side before her and swung open the passenger door. “Sounds good to me, Poe.” He dashed around the truck and got in. “Old times.”
“Not like old times. And don’t call me Poe.”
He got in and grinned. “Whatever you say, but you can still call me Boss. I always liked that nickname.”
She glared at him. “I’m not calling you that. No way.”
Chapter 8
If Anthony had known when he’d made the decision to come talk to her about the article that he would end up going dancing with her, he would have sung We are the Champions by Queen at full volume.
Cassidy was very formal during the fifteen-minute drive into Dallas, asking all sorts of questions about how he was feeling and what the doctors had said. Frankly, it was annoying as ever, but he tolerated it, telling himself he’d better get used to her doing this. She just sounded so … bookish.
When he parked, she turned to him. “You’re going to have to be more explanatory when we really sit down for this article.”
A bit flippantly, he crossed his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” It’d been something they’d always said to each other.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Anthony.”
It was strange how much he adored this older version of her. She’d always been more serious and she was acting the same, but it was like she’d finally caught up to her older self.
“Why are you smiling? I mean it.”
Slipping out of the truck, he ran around to her side, though she had the door open before he could do it for her. He did, however, take her hand and help her all the way down. “The article will be great, but let’s have fun tonight with your friends, okay?” He winked at her. “Can’t waste the new hat and boots.”
Annoyed, she pulled the hat off and tossed it back into the truck. “I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
He laughed and took her hand, again. “I like it.”
Ripping her hand back, she walked faster toward the club. “Fine, we’ll have fun tonight. But, just so you know, I don’t know the whole group we’ll be with. My friend invited me. She writes for Dear Abby, and her name is Samantha.”
“No worries.”
As they walked up to the line, Samantha’s friend gave her a wide-eyed look.
She smiled at her, feeling nervous. “Hey, this is Anthony.” She nodded to him.
Anthony stuck his hand out.
Samantha took it, her eyes raked up and down Anthony, making him feel a tad uncomfortable. “Well, cook my biscuits, I was not prepared for this.”
Cassidy gave her a half smile.
Samantha still held to Anthony’s hand. “Well, welcome.”
He had to pull it back a bit forcefully. The woman looked at him like Gargamel looked at Smurfs.
Samantha gestured back over her shoulder. “This is Tim and Tom from accounting.”
He and Cassidy both shook hands with the two men, who both seemed a bit star struck by him, too.
Samantha’s eyes didn’t leave Anthony’s. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” She gave Cass a questioning look.
Cassidy didn’t look proud, the way most people did when they introduced Anthony. No, she seemed almost miserable. “I just got hired today to do an article on him, so he came with me tonight.”
Noticing she hadn’t mentioned that they’d been in love ten years ago, Anthony politely smiled at all of them and decided to ruin the charade. “Cass and I go way back. What was it? Summer of freshman year of high school?”
Dramatically, Samantha cast an amazed look at Cass. “Wow.”
Cassidy shook her head and a wry smile played at her lips, clearly realizing he’d purposefully blown the whole “this is only for an article” bit. She turned to the group. “Yep, he kicked me off his property and it started a lasting friendship.”
“What?” Samantha laughed a bit off-key.
Anthony hadn’t expected Cass to own it so well, he nodded to the front of the line. “Why don’t you all come with me?” He didn’t want to be cocky and say he never waited in lines, but he never waited in lines.
Of course, more and more people were starting to recognize him as he waded through the crowd to the front of the line with the rest of them tagging behind. People called out or asked for an autograph or selfie, which he obliged. Finally, they got to the front, where the bouncer had already pulled the rope and waved them all in. He asked Anthony for a selfie, and Anthony obliged him as well. “VIP section is top floor, stairs over that way.” The bouncer pointed to the right.
“Sounds good.”
As they walked into the club, it was loud. There were different levels to the club. The whole group stayed next to Anthony, ushered by bouncers to the top floor.
Cassidy snorted. “Note to self: Anthony Kincaid demands preferential treatment.”
He laughed at the way she was trying to find something wrong with him. “I guess you can put that in the article.”
Sticking her chin into the air, she retorted, “I will put the truth in the article, that’s all.”
Anthony didn’t like the edge in her voice, but he pushed it aside.
Samantha had glued herself to his other side and was now closer to him than Cassidy was. “That’s so cool you were hired to work with him.” She gave him another ‘I want to eat you for dinner’ kind of look.
Tim and Tom talked to him about the game coming the next week, going through stats with him.
The third floor opened up to another dance floor, less crowded, but with more people on the Dallas who’s who list. Anthony wasn’t surprised to hear his name called out from some guys on the team gathered together in a corner.
He turned to Cassidy. “Would you mind if we said hello to them?” She looked so cute, he wanted to show her off.
“You want me to come?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I want you to come.”
Samantha was still glued to him. “How about we all go.”
He was a bit reluctant to bring Samantha’s type over, but if Cass would only come with her, then that’s what they would do. “Sure.”
Cassidy nodded. “For interviewing purposes, sure. Let’s go.” She didn’t seem happy to be out with him at all. Not that he’d expected a ticker tape parade, but c’mon. Didn’t she want to be with him even a little bit?
Samantha looped arms with him. “Let’s meet your friends.”
Not liking this situation, but unable to stop it, they all walked over to his people. He introduced the group to some of the players, and he fell into easy conversation about the upcoming game with the Wildcats.
Scar, practice quarterback for the Titans, appeared at Cassidy’s side. “You’re the one who bludgeoned my friend here.” He laughed and whacked Anthony on the back. “We met at the sports camp.” He put his hand out. “I’m Scar, by the way.”
Cassidy shook his hand. “That’s right.”
Samantha tugged on Anthony’s arm, laughing hard at something one of the other players had said. “Did you hear that, Anthony?”
“What?” He didn’t want to be with this woman all night. It occurred to him that Samantha was definitely here to pick up a player. Cassidy, on the other hand, had no interest in any of the players. Including him?
Scar leaned over Cassidy to talk to him. “Hey, Anthony, could we have a chat about a project I want to develop?”
Anthony didn’t want to chat with Scar. The month leading up to the season hadn’t changed his opinion of the guy, who was the kind of person who made trash talk an Olympic sport. The only redeeming thing about the guy was that he was tough as nails and the stories he could tell about combat should be a made-for-television movie, but he could really get under Anthony’s skin. “No.”
Scar scowled. “It’s important. I want to expand my gym downtown and build a separate area on the parking lot next to it to help military vets.” When Anthony raised his eyebrows in interest, Scar continued. “There are so many guys that could benefit from having a place to go to hang with other vets. A gym where they could spar and get out some of their aggression. Also, a place where they can play pool and watch a game. They could build camaraderie, and I was thinking I could even have a counselor or therapist on hand if they want a no-pressure place to discuss things they don’t want to take through the bureaucratic mess of getting a government-paid-for therapist.”
For a few seconds Anthony didn’t respond, thinking the idea actually sounded pretty good.
Cassidy piped up. “I like it.”
Anthony thought of her late fiancé. “I like it too,” he said, considering how they could run some money through their charity or set up one explicitly for military vets. “Tell me more.”
Scar looked surprised and a bit nervous. “Okay, it would be so great, man. You would never regret how many guys who would be helped by this. I mean, I thought we could start in Dallas, but it could branch out into other cities too. I’m from San Diego and we could definitely put together something like this there. There are a ton of vets.”
Anthony held up a hand. “Let’s start in Dallas.” He liked the excitement, but he’d been through a couple of started charities and they had to get the details right. “What do you need?”
