Full Coverage: Boys of Fall

by Erin Nicholas

  The door to Pitchers whacked Nolan in the back.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry!” Annabelle apologized as she walked through and let the door swing shut behind her.

  Nolan slowly straightened away from Randi, taking his hand from her breast long before he was ready. Again.

  Just then, Jackson came striding up the front walk. “What’s up, everyone?”

  It was a casual question but when Nolan turned, he saw Jackson’s sharp gaze taking in every detail.

  “I thought you guys had already left,” Annabelle said.

  “Yeah, we were…talking,” Randi said.

  Nolan glanced at her. She looked frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was the reminder of yet another strange one-on-one interaction with him or if it was their making out getting interrupted, but it made him want to pull her close and tell her it was okay.

  “I love talking,” Jackson said, his emphasis on the last word making it clear he knew they hadn’t been only talking.

  Annabelle peered at Randi. “You okay?”

  Randi ran a hand through her hair. “I’m fine.”

  Nolan really hoped that wasn’t true. Because he definitely wasn’t fine.

  “Need a ride?” Jackson asked Randi.

  “Nope. Totally sober,” she told him. “Really, really sober,” she added on a mutter.

  Nolan almost grinned at that.

  “Okay, you ready to go?” Jackson asked his fiancée.

  Anabelle shot Randi another look but nodded. “Yeah.”

  “You two,” Jackson said, pointing at Nolan. “Be good.”

  Nolan sighed. Yeah. He had a feeling he was going to be good for the rest of the night. And alone. And horny.

  “’Night, Nolan,” Randi said, slipping around him. “I’ll see you.”

  He reached out and snagged her wrist before she could escape. She groaned and turned to face him.

  She just kept making an ass out of herself with him. She really wanted it to stop. Now. And the only way that seemed possible was if she just stayed away.

  “I still have a question for you.”

  “But see, asking and answering questions will require talking. And we’re not very good at that.”

  Okay, she wasn’t very good at that. She was the one who sounded like an idiot. Why had she said that about the newspaper office? Just because it had occurred to her as kind of fun and naughty, didn’t mean it wasn’t totally stupid.

  He smiled. “Maybe we just need more practice.”

  “More practice than the twenty-some years we’ve had?”

  “It’s not like we’ve had a lot of in-depth conversations in those twenty years,” he reminded her.

  She supposed that was true. She didn’t remember starting to act crazy around him until about their junior year of high school. She’d always known him. She’d always liked him, for that matter. But either they hadn’t had one-on-one conversations before their junior year or she hadn’t been self-conscious about them until then, for whatever reason.

  Randi remembered the first time she’d shoved her foot in her mouth. They’d been at a party at Carter’s parents’ house, their junior year, football season. They’d ended up by the stereo together, alone. They’d said awkward hi’s and then she’d said something about the football game. That topic lasted about three seconds. Nolan covered the games for the paper but she knew he didn’t really care. Not like she did. She’d loved football her entire life and could go on and on about it. With anyone else in the room, that would have been fine, great even. A lot of the guys thought her love and knowledge of the game was sexy. But she knew Nolan didn’t want to talk about the game. So she’d clenched her teeth together and told herself to just shut up. To fill the stupid silence, he had said something about geometry. Geometry was a horrible class. She hated it and it was tough for her. She had been barely pulling her C at that point. But she didn’t want Nolan to know that she wasn’t very smart. So she’d tried to distract him. Or something. She still wasn’t sure why she’d asked if he wanted to see her tattoo. But it had worked to stop the conversation train that was barreling toward a massive wreck.

  “I think I’d rather kiss you than talk to you,” she said honestly. “No offense.”

  He gave a rough laugh. “I don’t think I’m offended. Though I’m not sure.”

  She felt a little smile quirk. “Are you sure you don’t just want to come over to my house?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face, searching her eyes—and suddenly Randi knew exactly why she was so awkward around him, scrambling to cover her lack of knowledge about anything outside of Quinn, Texas.

  He saw her.

  When he looked at her, it wasn’t the way the other guys did. Men looked at her—always had—and saw her boobs and butt and mouth and hair and whatever else it was that guys liked. She’d been told those specific things were “sexy as hell” and made her “completely fuckable” several times in her life.

  But Nolan didn’t see those things. Or not only those things. He looked beyond all of that. And that freaked her out. Because she wasn’t sure how much else was really there. She was a hell of a mechanic. She was kind, generous, fun, a good friend and daughter and sister. She was proud of all of that and she was content with her life in Quinn. But for some reason, she felt as if being content with small-town life, the same faces and places every day, somehow made her less in some people’s eyes. Like Nolan’s.

  It was no secret that he’d been eager to leave Quinn and that he loved life in San Antonio. Sure, he came back to visit and seemed happy to see everyone and hang out for a few days here and there. But his job for the newspaper required travel all over the country, and since he’d written that first book, he was going to New York every so often. He’d outgrown Quinn—while she’d barely grown at all.

  That was how it felt, anyway.

  “No, I don’t think I’m coming over tonight,” Nolan finally said, letting go of her wrist. “But I am going to ask my question.”

  Oh, boy. “Fine. What?”

  “Will you help me with my book?”

  “Your book?” she repeated. “The one you’re writing about Coach?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to interview me or something?” She loved Coach. She had some great stories.

  “Yes,” he said. “But more. I need a football expert to be sure I’m getting game details and terminology right.”

  She blinked at him. She knew football. Every nuance and detail. But a hundred other people—probably more—right here in Quinn knew as much as she did. Well, almost as much as she did. “Why me?”

  “You know everything about the program, the history, the players, the town.”

  “So do lots of other people.”

  “I want to see if we can have a normal conversation,” he said. “I’m giving us a common topic.”

  Randi narrowed her eyes. “That’s the only reason?”

  “No, I really need the help. You know what I need to know. And you smell better than the other people I could ask.”

  She felt herself smile at that. “What kind of questions?”

  He shrugged. “Is there any football question I could ask that you wouldn’t know the answer to? Honestly?”

  She had to admit that having free reign to go on and on about football sounded pretty great. And the idea of talking with authority about something to Nolan was really tempting. She’d love to show off a little—or a lot—after all the times she’d made a fool of herself.

  “Okay, I can help.”

  His face relaxed into a big grin immediately. “Awesome. Thanks.”

  “Sure. How do you want to do this?”

  “How about I come to the shop tomorrow?” he asked. “We can chat while you work? Or will that be distracting?”

  Her optimism about the deal increased significantly with that. “Yes, the shop would be great.” With a wrench in her hand and the smell of motor oil surrounding her, she’d be as at ease as much
as she possibly could. Work would distract her from feeling self-conscious around him. It was the perfect setup. “I get there at six.”

  “I’ll be there at six o’one.”

  They’d have the shop to themselves until seven thirty when Donny came in. That could be good. Easier to talk. Or bad. Because it would be easier to talk.

  “I’ll see you then.” She started to turn to finally make her escape.

  “Randi.”

  She stopped and glanced back.

  “Sorry about the Ladybug thing. That was out of line.”

  She stared at him for a moment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had a guy apologize for being out of line with her. Voluntarily, anyway. She’d gotten an apology after bloodying a guy’s nose in fifth grade. She’d gotten one after kneeing a guy in the balls in ninth grade. And she’d gotten one after she’d taken a guy’s transmission apart, in the parking lot of the baseball field while he was playing third base, the summer after they graduated.

  But she couldn’t remember a time when someone just offered one.

  And it figured that he was apologizing for something that didn’t bother her at all. He’d surprised her with it. As had the thump her heart made after he’d said it. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” she told him honestly.

  “That was kind of…personal of me, though,” he said.

  She nodded. “But I don’t mind you being personal with me.” And she meant it. He made her feel awkward and jittery and reminded her that she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the drawer, but he had never said or done anything to make her think that he thought that. She was just a little overwhelmed by how smart he was and how sophisticated he’d become. And that was on her, not him.

  Then she turned and headed for her car, before her mouth started running again and she said something like “how do you feel about dirty talk in bed?” or “I don’t suppose you’re a hair-puller?”

  Chapter Two

  Randi looked hot as hell.

  Nolan had to actually adjust himself as he approached the huge open door of the shop. She was in jeans, a white tank top, her dark hair piled up under a ball cap. She was up on a wooden block, bent over under the hood of a truck, and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands over the sweet curve of her ass.

  A woman in an evening gown and heels had never affected him that much.

  Instead, he cleared his throat.

  She looked up with a smile. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” He held out a cup of coffee.

  She took it. “Wow, what a gentleman.”

  He knew that there was coffee here at the shop, but he had spent almost five minutes staring at the donuts, not knowing what to bring her. He didn’t even know if she liked donuts, not to mention what kind. Why he felt the need to bring her something, he couldn’t really say, but he’d finally just poured two cups of coffee.

  Which now seemed pretty stupid. He’d had his car worked on down here before. The things that could be counted on at the auto shop were excellent service, dirty jokes, swearing loudly, and hot, strong coffee. The best part—and Nolan wasn’t the only one who thought so—the funniest, dirty jokes and the loudest swearing usually came from Randi.

  He dug in his pocket and pulled out several packets of sugar, a few of low-cal sweetener, and five tiny tubs of creamer, both plain and hazelnut.

  He had no idea how Randi took her coffee.

  Of course, as he dumped the cream and sugars on the edge of the truck she was working on, he realized that since she did work here—owned the place, in fact—she probably had whatever cream and sweetener she needed too.

  He looked up to find her grinning at him. “Thanks.”

  “I wanted to cover the bases.”

  She nodded. “Done.”

  He felt like an idiot.

  Why did one of them always feel stupid around the other?

  He sighed. This was not going to continue. He could just drop the whole thing. He could just consider Randi a friend from high school. They could keep socializing in groups and having the occasional awkward conversation…where he sometimes got to see her bare hip. That hadn’t been all bad.

  But he wanted to take her to New York with him. He had a huge party coming up with his publisher and he needed a date. He hadn’t been able to even consider anyone else since Randi had kissed him at Coach’s party. But if they couldn’t get through ten minutes without being awkward and something strange happening, it would be a no-go.

  But if they could have a normal one-on-one interaction, then it was a green light. There wasn’t another woman he wanted to take. He’d considered asking Lacey to go as a friend, just so he wasn’t dateless, or stuck with a blind date set up by his agent’s assistant, or trapped for a weekend in New York with one of the women he’d dated here and there in San Antonio. He’d done all of the above and none appealed at all.

  Especially when there was even the slightest chance that he could take Randi.

  Far from Quinn, in the bright lights and big city, just the two of them, for a whole weekend. Sounded like paradise to him.

  Of course he knew it would be out of her comfort zone. But he simply couldn’t imaging taking someone else. And he wanted to give her some Cinderella treatment. He wanted to buy her a fancy dress and some sparkly jewelry and give her an afternoon at the spa and, yeah, he wanted to show her the big city, and hold her hand and dance with her. And take her back to a fancy hotel suite and…

  Yeah. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and impress her.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He absolutely was. This was going to be great. They were going to have a great time here over the next couple of days, and he was going to convince her to fly to New York with him in two weeks.

  “So how do you want to do this?”

  He held up his notebook. “I’ll just ask questions as you work?”

  “Great. You can sit right there.” She pointed to an overturned plastic bucket. But she dropped her arm a moment later. “No, hang on.”

  She headed into the office and started to pull a chair into the garage. The bottom of the chair caught on the doorway and she fought with it for a moment.

  “Randi, no, this is good. I’m fine.” He started for the bucket. If that’s what people sat on around here… Then again, people probably didn’t sit around out here much. This was the work area. The clients sat in the waiting room with the coffee pot and the TV that was perpetually turned to ESPN.

  “You’ll get dirty sitting on that.” She gave the chair a hard yank and it came loose, causing her to stumble slightly and swear as the back of her hand banged against the doorframe.

  “Dammit, Randi, I’m fine.” He crossed to her and took the chair from her, then lifted her hand.

  She watched as he ran his thumb over the back where she’d whacked it.

  He pressed a kiss to the spot.

  “Nolan?” she said softly.

  “Yeah?”

  “I get bruises and cuts and scrapes every day. My job is kind of manual and hands-on.”

  Just another huge difference between them. He sat at a computer in an office and wrote for a living. She got her hands, and the rest of her, dirty and greasy and yeah, probably even a little bloody. Damn.

  “But it’s a great excuse to kiss you,” he said, kissing the spot once more.

  She took a big breath, but then her fingers curled around his. “You don’t need to make up excuses.”

  He stepped closer.

  But she put her other hand up. “I’ll get you dirty.”

  “I hope so.” Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up against him, kissing her.

  She melted into him a lot faster than she had on the dance floor. He liked that.

  He tunneled his fingers into her hair and opened his mouth, drinking her in, tasting her thoroughly.

  She gave in. For a little bit. She not only let him taste her, but she tasted him back.

  But long before Nola
n was ready to let her go, he felt her hands against his chest, pushing.

  He let her step back. For now.

  “I have to work,” she said. Her voice was husky.

  “Me too.”

  “Then you need to sit down. And I need to get back under that hood.”

  “You’ve never looked sexier than when you’re under that hood.”

  She smiled and lifted a hand. She rubbed her thumb over his jaw. “I got you dirty.”

  “We’re just getting started.”

  He saw how her breath caught at his words, but she moved back and over to the car.

  “You can put the chair wherever you want in here.”

  Okay, time to work. He should sit on the chair. It was right there. It would be much more comfortable. But something told him that he needed to sit on the bucket. She was worried about getting him dirty, but he knew there was more to it. There was something there, something deeper. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, and he didn’t have time to delve into it now. But he would. He had a very good memory.

  She’d never had this much trouble concentrating on her work before. She was pretty sure the fifteen-year-old truck that the new guy in town, Glen, had hauled in here was going to be in her shop for a few days. She was going to need to order a part. Or two. But she wanted to recheck everything. Nolan was distracting her to the point that she hated to tell the guy he was stranded in town and out a few hundred bucks for her to order something when really it was just a corroded battery or something.

  This was crazy. But she couldn’t deny that she loved having Nolan there. The work was taking twice as long as it should, but she liked the feeling of his eyes on her and the sound of his voice.

  And they were having a conversation without her acting like a crazy person. Of course, they were talking about football. In her auto shop. This was her comfort zone. She was happy here, and more, she was confident here. And that was a lot of why she liked having Nolan around. She liked him, but she needed that boost of confidence. At least if they were going to do more than kiss. Because she was a great kisser.

  “Okay, so third quarter. They were down by a touchdown. Why did Coach go for two instead of pushing for a touchdown?”