“Smart guy, that trainer.” Brooks appeared at his side. “Today must be the Work Smarter Not Harder part of the camp?”
Jonas began cleaning up the water cups left behind on the field. Brooks picked up a few balls that were still on the ground. “You’re familiar with how these camps work?”
“Football Dad, remember? And I attended a few camps of my own when I was still playing softball. It’s all about teaching camaraderie, teamwork. They leave the individual stuff for the coaches at home. Proven strategy that works.” She bent to retrieve another ball and Jonas couldn’t help admiring the view.
She wore lightweight navy capri pants and a flimsy tank-top thing that floated around her hips, making him wonder what she wore beneath it. And despite the ninety-plus-degree day, she looked cool and comfortable. Probably came from living in Miami the last few years where heat and humidity were commonplace.
Her hair pulled back into a crisp ponytail, a few strands had escaped the tie to fall around her face, and it made her look young. Friendly. As if she were someone he should get to know better. No, not going there. She had an agenda, and he had a shoulder to rehabilitate. A career to resurrect.
“What is that kid’s name? The one who finally spoke up?”
“Mark. He’s from the east side of the state.”
“I heard you talking to him this morning.”
Jonas’s stomach tightened. “Eavesdropping?”
“You were under my tent, at a camp I was invited to attend. With cameras and microphones, even. No, I didn’t tape it,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “But if I did, it would have made a great story. The fun-loving, red-carpet-walking quarterback who actually has a heart. The network would have loved it.”
“I didn’t ask you here to change my reputation.”
“Maybe you should have.” Brooks put her hands on her hips. “Are we actually arguing about me thinking you did a nice thing for that kid? Pardon me,” she said sarcastically, clasping her hands together as if in supplication. “I am so sorry that I thought you were actually human. That you actually cared about the kids who are here this week.” Brooks threw one ball and then another, each landing perfectly in the mesh basket a few yards downfield. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do?
“I do care about the kids who are here.” But it felt a little uncomfortable saying those words aloud, and he couldn’t fathom why. Before joining the Kentuckians he’d worked at countless camps put on by his college or by Earl, and he’d loved every single minute. “I just didn’t want you to take advantage of a kid who’s been through enough.”
Her green eyes lit with anger. “You know, you’ve thrown around this whole ‘reporters are evil’ thing a lot over the past week. What have I ever done to you to make you think I’d take advantage of a teenage kid who’s had enough trauma in his life?”
“Reporters have agendas. Yours is to report on the Kentuckians, year-round. Injuries, trades, drafts, coaching changes—”
“And what does any of that have to do with this camp?” Her eyes widened in mock surprise and she lowered her voice. “Are the Kentuckians going to draft one of these kids straight out of high school? Are they taking the NAFF to court to let an eighteen-year-old play professional football?” She whipped an imaginary pen and notebook from her back pocket. “Which one? What about the salary cap you’ve already maxed out?”
Jonas shook his head and held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I overreacted. You’re the all-trusting Belle of the football world, who sacrifices what she wants for the sake of other people.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not exactly living in a dungeon or eating gruel or being terrorized by a wolf-man who walks on his haunches. Although you do growl at people—mainly me—a lot.” She paused and twisted her mouth to the side. Threw the last football into the bin and turned back to him. “What you’re doing here is important work. For the kids,” she added, almost as an afterthought. The anger faded from her eyes and her shoulders relaxed. “I, ah, sent Kent back to the station already. I’d better hurry so our story can be filed on time. It’s just a puff piece about some of the Kentuckians who’ve volunteered for the camp.”
“You didn’t talk to me.”
“You were pretty clear you didn’t want to talk on camera until the end of the week. Unless you changed your mind and want to schedule that in-depth interview?”
No, he didn’t. Jonas shook his head. She turned to go and Jonas realized he also didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to argue with her or mistrust her motives on every little thing. She’d followed their unspoken rules about the camp. Been in the background, talked to a few kids and the other players. Had given him the space he wanted.
She was also kind, he’d seen that in the way she handled the boys she interviewed. She was funny, because teenage boys didn’t belly laugh unless something was truly crazy.
He wanted to spend time with her off the football field, and he knew that was asking for trouble. Jonas didn’t care.
“When you’re through filing your story, will you be hungry?”
“Most likely.” She turned to face him.
“We could grab some dinner.”
“Why?”
The question came out of nowhere. Most women didn’t ask why Jonas Nash wanted to have dinner with them; they said yes and ran home to change. One more way Brooks was different than the women he’d known.
“Call it an apology dinner.”
“I’m not one of those girls who are going to be impressed with a single shrimp and a leaf of lettuce on a plate.”
“That’s part of the reason I’m asking.”
“I also still have a job to do.”
“I know. It’s only dinner.”
“Okay, then.”
* * *
IT WAS WEIRD.
Brooks pulled a swishy skirt over her hips and followed that with a cap-sleeved, silky T-shirt in yellow. Briefly, she considered taking her hair down from its usual ponytail, but without time for a shower, she’d have a ring around her head all evening from the holder, so she only brushed through it a few times.
She shouldn’t have accepted his dinner invitation.
Oh, but the butterflies that started beating against the wall of her tummy demanded she say yes.
She should have said she’d meet him at the restaurant, or had him pick her up at the station. Instead, he was picking her up here, at her parents’ farm, the way she’d been picked up by the handful of boys she’d dated in high school and college. At least her dad was over that whole intimidate-the-guy thing he’d been obsessed with when she was younger. At least she hoped he was. She definitely should have started looking for her own apartment already. It had been so familiar to come home to the farmhouse, though. And it had only been a week.
“Have a good time tonight, honey,” her mother called from the living room as Brooks came down the stairs.
“Don’t worry about a curfew. We know you can handle yourself,” her dad added, and she had the feeling he was only half kidding.
“You guys, I’m twenty-eight, and this is only a dinner.”
They swiveled on the sofa, Dad with his arm still around Mom, the way they’d sat so many times when she was a kid. Pretending to watch television while she got ready for a date.
“It’s never just dinner, sweetheart,” Jimmy said. “A man like Jonas Nash asks a girl like you out, there is something more to it.”
“Dad—”
“What? Do you believe all those tabloid headlines?”
“No, but I’m not the kind of woman a guy like Jonas Nash usually dates.”
“Maybe that’s why he asked,” her mother put in.
“You’re a keeper, kiddo, a man would be stupid to think anything else.”
A blush heated Brooks
’s cheeks. Of course her parents thought she was everything, they were her parents. She had yet to meet a man she wasn’t related to who thought the same. “I’m a tomboy who knows enough about sports to be intimidating to most men.”
“Football is in our blood. The right man will see that,” Heidi said as she eyed Brooks’s outfit. “Especially in that skirt.”
Okay, this was officially too weird. She hadn’t had a pre-date inspection—and this wasn’t a date, anyway, she reminded herself—since she’d left for college. Brooks picked up her little tote, making sure she had her wallet and lipstick. “Well, I’m not looking for the right man tonight. This is just dinner between colleagues.”
“You never know what can happen. And football is part of your charm, honey,” her mom added.
Part of what drove men away, more likely, but she didn’t say the words. The truth was, she hadn’t been interested enough in any of the men she’d dated in the past to be anything except relieved when they inevitably stopped calling. Jonas might be different. She barely knew the man and already it was hard to get him out of her head. To concentrate on her job when he was anywhere nearby.
How many times had Kent drawn her attention back to whatever the kids at the camp were doing instead of what Jonas was doing on the sidelines?
And he’d brought up dinner. That might mean something.
“We were thinking, sweetheart, you might be more comfortable in the office than up in your old bedroom. Have more room to spread out. If you’re going to be here a year, we don’t want to cramp your style.”
“Jimmy!” her mom swatted at her dad’s arm.
“What?”
Brooks blinked. “You don’t want me to stay here?”
“Of course we do, honey,” Heidi said, giving Jimmy a deadly look. “Dad’s office out in the barn is more private. He’s practically got an apartment out there, and he isn’t using it at the moment—”
“I’m getting lazy in my old age. Most of my gear is in the spare bedroom at the back of the house.”
“You’re an adult. Living in your teenage bedroom is silly when you could have practically the whole barn to yourself. We just want you to be comfortable.”
“That’s what I was saying,” Jimmy hissed. “If you’re going to be in Kentucky through the end of the season—”
“Hopefully longer. We aren’t trying to get rid of you.” Heidi swatted at Jimmy’s arm again, making Brooks giggle. “We just don’t want you to feel...”
“Watched. Or in the way,” Jimmy put in helpfully.
They didn’t want to be rid of her: this was their way of letting her know they understood she was an adult now. And dating, and... God, this was probably about sex.
Maybe their sex. She shivered.
Brooks held up her hand. “Before you guys talk yourselves out of sticking me in the old barn and decide I’d be better off in an apartment in town, I’ll take it. The barn, I mean. As long as you’re sure I won’t be in your way.”
“Of course not, honey.”
“We’re glad to have you,” her dad said, talking over her mom. “It’s just—”
“I know. We’ve all been on our own for a while. It’s probably weird that I moved back home.”
“No-o-o.” Her mom drew out the syllable, a sure indication of weirdness.
“We didn’t really talk this through when I came back. I can find a place in town.” She should probably assert her independence. As nice as it was to be back home she was closer to thirty than twenty now. Well past the time to live as a single woman.
“But why? We can all have our own places here. You won’t have the expense of rent. You don’t want to sign a lease without knowing just how long you’ll be in Louisville.” Her father counted down all the reasons she should stay at the farm on one hand, and the tension in her shoulders lessened. She could survive on her own, she’d done it for several years in Miami, but there was something comforting about being in her parents’ home. “And this way you’ll have your independence,” her father continued. “I put in a kitchen and laundry and everything a couple years ago when we were thinking about rental income, and you helped with the main overhaul when you were still in school.”
“Okay, then.” Brooks fiddled with the hem of her blouse.
“We love you, kiddo,” her dad said.
Heidi smiled. “Have fun tonight. We’ll worry about moving you into the barn over the weekend.”
She could hear a truck approaching in the drive. “That’s probably him.” She stopped at the front door. “I’m glad I came back home,” she said.
“So are we, honey.”
She closed the door behind her and waved to Jonas in the cab of a classic truck.
“I’d have come to the door,” Jonas said as she slid into the seat. He wore faded jeans and a shirt with the Kentuckians logo over his left pec, and she wondered if he ever wore non-team gear. Not that she minded. Jonas filled out tees and shorts and jeans nicely.
“Too much like a date,” she said. “This is just dinner.”
Jonas put the truck in reverse, and in a few moments they were headed back toward Louisville. Brooks crossed her ankles and then uncrossed them. Fiddled with the hem of her yellow shirt. Ran her hand over the cool vinyl of the re-trimmed truck seats. She wasn’t sure of the year, but from the curved glass in the rear window and the smooth lines of the rest of the truck body, she knew it was a classic. Obviously restored to show condition.
“Nice truck. Did you buy it this way or do the work yourself?”
“You know about classic trucks in addition to football?”
Brooks shook her head. “I know enough to know this truck probably had a few hard years when it was more rust than gleaming machine.”
“Bought it like this. I know the parts of a combustible engine, but getting one to run is a totally different thing.”
A few old homes sat back behind wired fence rows, with acres of grass and trees between them. As they drew closer to the city, the homes were closer together and the wire fence rows gave way to short stretches of white pickets or manicured lawns filled with early summer flowers. Jonas made a couple of turns, and soon they had passed the football stadium and were headed to an older section of town. He pulled into a cracked parking lot and shut off the truck.
Only a couple of other vehicles sat in the lot. She’d expected a fancy restaurant, maybe a few fans, and felt off-balance because not only were there no fans, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around at all. Jonas opened her door and then put his hand at the small of her back, sending that familiar zing of awareness up her spine. Just as warm through cotton as she remembered his hand being through the thin silk of her awards-show dress.
It’s just dinner, Brooks reminded herself.
They rounded the corner and she caught the name of the restaurant—Lionel’s—on a shabby red-and-blue shingle hanging from the awning. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t been to Lionel’s since she was a kid; it was her dad’s favorite place.
“I didn’t realize this place was still in business,” she said as Jonas opened the door.
He waved at the waitress behind the bar, who motioned toward the empty tables and booths in the dining room. “Sit wherever, I’ll be there in a sec,” the woman said. Brooks couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was the same waitress who’d worked there when she was a little girl.
Black-and-white checker-topped Formica tables were scattered around the dining area with stainless-steel and black vinyl chairs grouped around them, and along the wall were black vinyl booth seats with more of the checker-topped tables between them. Jonas led her to a booth midway along the wall. In the back corner, an older gentleman sat alone reading a newspaper; a few other tables were filled, but the place wasn’t the bustling spot she remembered.
“One of the coache
s told me about it when I first came to Louisville. I’ve been coming here ever since. Best barbecue in town.”
“My dad used to bring his players in here for celebration dinners. I’ve never had the barbecue.”
The waitress dropped off two laminated menus and set two icy glasses of tea before them.
“Sweet tea?” Brooks asked hopefully.
“No other way to drink it,” she said. “House specialty. You know what you want?”
“Barbecue for me, fiery sauce,” Jonas said, “and fries with ranch.”
“I’ll have a hot brown, no sides,” Brooks said as she handed the menu back.
“Have it in a sec. Lionel,” she yelled through the open window to the cook area, “got a hot brown, barbecue extra hot and fries.”
Brooks tried her tea and sighed in appreciation. “I haven’t had good sweet tea in ages. And I swear that’s the same waitress I remember from when I was a kid. Same yell and everything.”
“I think she’s sweet on Lionel, although she wouldn’t admit it if you asked her.” Jonas leaned his arms on the table, pushing into her space a little. His brown gaze seemed to dance, and she leaned forward, too. He smelled fresh and outdoorsy and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. “They’re part of the charm. He’ll start yelling at her any second, she’ll threaten to quit and then our food will come.”
“Sounds about right,” Brooks said, grinning. They both leaned back in their seats and she breathed a little easier with the additional space. Just a dinner, she reminded herself. Two people who work in the same place having dinner. She sipped more tea. “This isn’t what I expected when you said dinner.”
“Better or worse?”
She weighed her options. Better because this was a hole in the wall where she might, finally, see the real Jonas? Or worse because Jonas brought her to a place where no one cared who they were? This was the kind of place a man photographed as often as Jonas would never bring a real date. Somehow admitting that didn’t help to calm her crazy pulse, though. “Different,” she decided.
Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set Page 85
