Fourth Down

by Desiree Holt

  “Cliff said you’re a football fan.” Lara grinned. “This isn’t the big time, but the kids get just as excited.”

  “It was great. Thanks for including me.”

  As he listened to her speak, he detected the softness of a Southern drawl in her voice. Weren’t Southern women supposed to be warm and friendly? This one was about as warm and friendly as a porcupine.

  As the conversation ebbed and flowed around him, Chase studied the woman from beneath lowered lids. Same intriguing shade of sun-streaked hair he remembered, again pulled back in a ponytail. Wait, intriguing? What the hell? He didn’t use words like that to describe women. Now that she didn’t appear to be all pissed off, her face was more relaxed, her high cheekbones balancing a slightly pointed chin. The soft fabric of the collared shirt she wore almost lovingly outlined the high round breasts he remembered from the gym. He couldn’t help remembering the fine ass, the well-shaped thighs, and toned lithe body he’d seen as she pumped away on the elliptical. Truth to tell, he’d thought of it more than he wanted to.

  He could tell, however, she still had that boulder-sized chip on her shoulder, although tonight she was doing her best to conceal it. He wondered if she had the same attitude at the firehouse. No, probably not. It wouldn’t be tolerated there any more than it was in the Guard. Besides, although he didn’t know Cliff Randall that well, the man didn’t seem to be the kind who would put up with it from anyone. And he treated Miss Sass with respect, so there must be something he was missing.

  She picked up the glass in front of her and took a drink. It was obvious she was doing her best to ignore him. What was her problem? Was it him? Was she still pissed off because he’d blocked the doorway at Pump It Up or was that her natural disposition? Maybe she’d had a bad day before she went to work out. He’d like to think it was that and not anything he’d done or said. Although, why the hell he should even care was beyond him.

  The woman was a headache waiting to happen. Forget about her toned, sexy body. Forget everything because she was not for him. He didn’t need the aggravation she was sure she’d bring with her.

  “Chase?”

  John’s voice cut into his thoughts.

  He blinked. “Sorry. Just replaying some of the game in my mind.” There. That sounded logical.

  “Cliff asked if we could get together a softball team. Their firehouse plays in a pickup league once a week. He thought we might like to be part of it.”

  “It’s really catch as catch can,” Cliff told him. “Different shifts and then we never know when we’ll get called out.”

  Next to him, John laughed. “Kind of like the Coast Guard.”

  Holly lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with curiosity. “So, you’re in the Coast Guard?” She moved her finger back between him and John. “Both of you?”

  Chase dipped his head. “We are. Ten years.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Chase frowned. “Hmmm? What does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. That’s just…interesting.”

  “What’s interesting,” Cliff interrupted, “is that the food’s ready.” He inclined his head toward a jeans-clad waitress weaving between the tables, balancing a large pedestal tray in each hand. “Here it comes. And here come the hellions.”

  The boys, who had been playing arcade games with their friends, leaped into their chairs as if they’d never eaten.

  “Not like animals,” Cliff cautioned. “Manners, remember?”

  “Don’t scare off the strangers,” Gig Sprouls added. “We’d like them to come back again.”

  Amy laughed. “I’m used to it. I teach sixth grade, so no problem.”

  “Maybe you can give us some pointers,” Gig said.

  Chase grinned. “They’ll calm down once we feed them.”

  Conversation at the table flowed over and around the kids, who were busy stuffing their faces and celebrating the win. Chase was glad to see that John and Amy were relaxed and enjoying themselves without any help from him. He was too focused on watching Holly with an intensity he hadn’t expected. She smiled at everyone but him, but only took part in the conversation when it was directed at her.

  But it wasn’t her words he was fascinated by. It was the movement of her graceful jaw when she chewed and the flex of muscles in her throat when she swallowed. Two things shocked him: the fact he was so focused on her eating pizza and that his unruly cock had a mind of its own and was swelling against his jeans. What the fuck? He had way more self-control than that. He decided when and where he would let his body respond to a woman. Apparently, his little head wasn’t taking orders from his big head, at least where Miss Sass was concerned.

  Damn! What the fuck was wrong with him? A big neon sign spelling “Trouble” should be flashing in front of him. She was a woman competing in a male-dominated profession, probably a ballbuster just like Cheryl had been.

  “Isn’t that right, Chase?”

  He was suddenly aware that someone—John—was talking to him. Again.

  Crap. He needed to stop spacing out.

  “Sorry. I, uh, was just replaying some more of the game in my head and spaced out, I guess.”

  “Again?” John smothered a laugh. “I didn’t think that disciplined mind of yours ever wandered.”

  Chase felt his cheek heat with an unaccustomed flush. What the hell? He scowled when he saw John cast a knowing look at him.

  “So what did I miss?” He took a long swallow of his soft drink to cool off his heated thoughts.

  “We’ve been talking about a backyard barbecue being a great place to discuss setting up the ball games.” Cliff was the one who answered. “We’re all in.” He motioned to Amy and John and the Sprouls. “We figured you and Holly could join us. Maybe some of the others.”

  Chase looked at Holly, who had a deer in the headlights look on her face. The exact way he himself felt. Go to a barbecue where Miss Sass would be?

  “I’m not sure—” he began.

  “I don’t think—” Holly said at the same time.

  Cliff looked from one to the other and grinned. “Good. Then it’s settled. We figured we’d host it since we have a big yard. Everyone check your schedules and get back to me. If you don’t have my cell number, I’ll give it to you before we leave here.”

  “Cliff,” Holly began again, “I don’t know if—”

  “Don’t give me a hard time, Holly. You play on the team so you have to be part of this. You’re the best shortstop we’ve ever had. And if you don’t text me I’ll make you wash the engine by yourself.”

  “Damn.” She shook her head. “We’ll discuss this at the house.”

  “Discussion’s over, kiddo. We can’t win without you.”

  Chase swallowed a smile as he watched Holly’s jaw clench and a frown line crease her forehead. Some perverse reaction made him open his mouth. “I’m in.” He nodded at Cliff. “I think a barbecue is a great idea.”

  He did?

  “You do?” John gave him a skeptical look. “Mr. Antisocial?”

  “Hey. I’m not antisocial.” He tried to arrange his face into an injured expression. “Just selective. And I select this barbecue and the softball game.”

  Well, he’d done it now. Stepped right into a bucket. Maybe they could avoid each other if the crowd was large enough and he could just hang with the others. No, that might not work. What if everyone else was coupled up? He and Holly would stick out like sore thumbs, especially if she chose to ignore him all night, or give him the cold shoulder if he tried to be friendly.

  Why the hell did he care, anyway? Was it just because he felt like yanking her chain? Because he sure didn’t see the two of them getting together any time soon, if ever. He thought about it while saying good-bye to everyone and exchanging cell numbers with Cliff. He thought about it some more as he walked to his car in the parking lot. And he thought about it for sure when they walked to their cars and he discovered Holly was parked next to
him.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m stalking you or anything, so don’t get any ideas. I just didn’t want to appear rude.”

  “Right,” he agreed. He stopped beside his car and studied her. “Shortstop, huh?”

  “Damn good one too.” She bit off the words. “I don’t care who you get on your team. We’ll kick your ass.”

  He took a long moment to study her. “Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked at last.

  She scowled. “Tired? Of what?”

  “Carrying around that big chip on your shoulder?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished them back. Smooth, DeMarco, very smooth.

  “No bigger than yours,” she came back. “Maybe we should measure them sometime.”

  His mouth curved in a slow grin. When the dirty implications of what she said hit her, she blushed a bright red and turned away from him.

  “You know what I mean. Please don’t get any ideas.” She unlocked her car with the key fob and climbed in. As she reached out to pull the door shut, she said, “I suppose I’ll have to put up with you at Pump It Up again.”

  He swallowed a laugh. “I suppose you will.”

  She looked as if she might say something else, then just slammed the door shut and cranked the ignition.

  Chase watched her head out of the parking lot. So she was a firefighter. He wondered if that accounted for her Miss Sass attitude or if it was a natural part of her. And why the hell was he so intrigued, anyway?

  Tonight had been interesting on many fronts. He could hardly wait to see what her reaction would be the next time they met. Then he jerked his brain back to reality. What was he thinking? Was he crazy? The last female he wanted anything to do with was one as obviously complicated and as badass as this one. He liked his relationships short, simple, and undemanding. He had a feeling things with Holly Funchess would be anything but that.

  He needed to get his head on straight. Both of them.

  * * * *

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  Holly banged her hand on the steering wheel. Hadn’t she just acted like the biggest ass in the world. She’d been shocked enough at seeing Chase at the game, especially in the position of coach. But then to end up sitting at the same table with him and his friends. Life was playing unfair tricks on her. Again. If only she’d somehow known Mr. Hot Guy was going to be there tonight. As a coach, no less. And, it seemed, some kind of star football player before joining the Coast Guard.

  Maybe she should call him Mr. Macho instead of Mr. Hot Guy. At the very least it would remind her why she stayed away from guys like him. He might be hot, but she could also get burned if she stood too near the flame. She’d seen the look in his eyes when Cliff introduced her as a firefighter. Was he one of those men who didn’t get women in jobs like hers? She’d had enough of that, thank you. Another good reason to stay away from him.

  I must be losing my mind. That’s all there is to it.

  The very last thing she needed was to be at all interested in Mr. Macho, even if he was Mr. Hot Guy. Been there, done that, got the awful T-shirt. She didn’t need any man to validate her. She did damn fine as things were. If she met someone who interested her temporarily, okay, but she still called all the shots. All the time. She was in control of her life.

  Why then, was some guy with an athlete’s body, a face to dream about, and an attitude to match her own turning her thoughts upside down? A man who she was sure would challenge her at every turn? This was not good. Not good at all.

  She had every intention of making the turn onto the road leading to her apartment complex, but somehow her car had a mind of its own. In ten minutes, she found herself pulling up in front of Adara’s newly purchased Craftsman bungalow.

  “Uh-oh.” Adara waved her into the house. “I feel an ice cream binge coming on. What happened? I thought you went out with the Randalls tonight. To some kid activity.”

  “It was a football game,” Holly snapped.

  “But a kids’ football game, right? What’s the big deal about it?” Adara quirked an eyebrow. “I thought football was America’s game. Anyway, what could possibly happen at a kids’ game?”

  Holly flopped onto the couch. “Ice cream first.”

  “Man.” Adara shook her head. “This must be worse than bad. Lucky for you I’ve got salted caramel.” She was back in two minutes with two bowls filled with the delicious creamy confection.

  Despite her irritable mood, Holly’s mouth watered at the sight of it. She reached out a hand. “Gimme.”

  Adara held the dish just out of reach. “Do you promise it will be worth it?”

  “I promise nothing but murder and mayhem if I don’t get my ice cream.”

  “Spoilsport,” Adara grumped, but she handed over the ice cream. “Okay,” she said when they had both indulged in two huge spoonfuls. “What brought you here instead of going home?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you meet a handsome hunk at the game?”

  Holly groaned and shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, savoring the taste as she swallowed it. “I met someone all right.”

  “Well, give, chickadee. I want all the details.”

  Holly took her time with another spoonful of ice cream.

  “I’m going to take that bowl away from you,” Adara threatened, “if you don’t cough up some information. What on earth is wrong with you, anyway? Just spit it out.”

  “It was him.” She finally got the words out. “Him! Can you believe it?”

  “Damn it, Holly. Who, already?”

  “The guy from the fitness center. Mr. Hot Guy.” She glared at Adara. “At my ball game.”

  Adara’s eyes bugged out. “Are you shitting me? Our Mr. Hot Guy?”

  “First of all, he isn’t ours. At least not mine, for damn sure.” She scarfed down another spoonful. “And I don’t intend for him to be.”

  “What was he doing there? Ohmigod.” She scowled. “Is he married? Did he have little rug rats playing in the game?”

  Holly found herself laughing at Adara’s outraged expression. “No, he’s not married. At least I don’t think so. He’s one of the coaches. Can you believe it? Of all the damn luck.”

  Adara stared. “What’s wrong with him being a coach? I think that’s great. See? It shows you what a nice guy he is, doing something for the kids.”

  “You don’t know if that makes him a nice guy or not. Maybe he’s just stroking his ego.” Holly slurped another spoonful of the now-melting ice cream. “Anyway, it seems he was some kind of hotshot football god in high school and at the Academy, so—”

  “Wait a minute.” Adara sat straight up. “Academy? What kind of academy?”

  “The Coast Guard Academy. What is the matter with you?”

  Adara pointed her spoon at Holly. “Are you telling me this guy is in the Coast Guard? And he’s a football hero? And he coaches Pop Warner kids?”

  “Yeah” Holly shrugged. “So?”

  “And he’s hot on top of it? What is the matter with you? He’s made to order.” She dug into her own ice cream. “Is that why you came over here? Because you want to go out with this guy and you think maybe your very pleasant attitude ruined it?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my attitude,” Holly grumped. “I have a fine attitude. Excellent, as a matter of fact.”

  Adara laughed. “Oh, right. Charming is the word. So if you have a great attitude and you aren’t interested in this guy, why are you eating salted caramel ice cream on my sofa instead of climbing into bed at home?”

  “And then I had to eat pizza with him.” Holly went on as if her friend hadn’t said a word. “It wasn’t bad enough he was there. At the football game. Right in front of me. Coaching.” She emphasized each of the last words. “I mean, he was there.”

  Adara doubled over laughing. “You are hysterical. If he coaches the team, of course he was there. Was he supposed to know you’d be there and stay home? What’s the big deal, any
way? You don’t even like the guy. Right?”

  “I told you; I had to eat with him. Pizza.”

  Adara snorted. “Would a different meal have been better? And how did you end up eating with him?”

  Holly waved her spoon in the air. “He’s all buddy-buddy with Cliff and Lara so we all ate together at the after-game pizza party. Like one big happy family.”

  Adara wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “You could have refused to go, right?”

  Holly arched her eyebrows. “And be rude?”

  “Honey, you want to know what I think? You came here for ice cream therapy because you’ve got the hots for Mr. Hot Guy and you don’t know what to do about it.”

  A long moment of silence followed.

  “I don’t have any kind of hots,” she said at last. “Maybe just, um, a tad bit of curiosity.”

  “Well, that would be a pleasant change from your kiss-my-ass attitude where most guys are concerned.”

  “And most of them deserve. I just…” She shook her head. “I want you to talk me out of making an idiot of myself because I just know he’s a primo asshole.”

  Adara stared at her for a long time. “That would assume you have something in mind for the primo asshole,” she said at last. “If you’re lucky you might never see him again. You don’t have to go to any more games, you know.”

  “Yeah, but I might run into him at Pump It Up.”

  “Why would you think that? He’s never been there before. He might never go there again.”

  “He bought a thirty-day trial membership.”

  One corner of Adara’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “And you know that how?”

  “I, uh, might have sort of overheard the conversation.” She waved the spoon in the air. This was not going the way she expected. She wanted Adara to remind her what guys like this were all about. He’d probably want to tell everyone he boinked the firefighter. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Is that so? Holly, if you like the guy, just admit it and see what happens.”

  Holly shook her head. “No, no, no. Uh-uh. I only go out with guys I don’t really like.” She paused, thinking about what she’d just said. “Wait. That sounded totally stupid. I mean, guys that I only want to hang with for a little while.” She stopped again. “That is—”