Playing for Hearts

by Debra Kayn

Sometime later, he woke and held still. Aware of Angie in his room, he moved his hand to his stomach, but her head wasn’t laying on him. He opened his eyes and searched the bed, knowing something had woken him up.

  Across the expanse of mattress, Angie whimpered in her sleep. He rolled to his side to watch her. She was probably dreaming and would settle down soon. Waking her up would only interrupt her sleep more.

  She squirmed, fighting the blankets, until she thrust them off her upper body and got on her hands and knees. He sat up, alarmed, but something held him back.

  Angie used both her hands to push on the mattress as if squishing the springs down. He moved closer and laid his hand on her back. “Ang?” he whispered. “What are you doing, honey?”

  She jolted, falling back on her butt, crying out in pain. He held up his hands. “It’s me. Gary.”

  A low moan erupted and she pitched herself at him. He caught her, and she buried her face in his neck. He was fully awake now.

  What the hell happened to her?

  “Shh.” He scooted back until he leaned against the headboard and pulled her onto his lap, not letting her go. “Everything’s okay. I got you.”

  Her whole body trembled. He ran his hand down her back. The other one cupped the back of her head. Worried something had happened while he was asleep, he kept talking nonsense.

  “Are you in pain?” he asked.

  She rubbed her face back and forth against his chest. He sensed moisture on his skin and realized she was crying. Useless and unprepared, he had no idea how to make her feel better.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Did you have a bad dream?”

  She stiffened, holding on to him tightly. He took that as a yes. His rising panic eased back down to concern. A nightmare he could handle.

  “I’ll get you a drink of water…” He shifted to set her on the bed, and she raised her head, anxiety etched around her eyes. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded shakily.

  “Okay.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll turn on the hall light and leave the bedroom door open while I go to the kitchen.”

  He hurried out of the room, hit the light switch on his way down the hall, and continued on his way to get some water. On his way back to the bedroom, he hoped to find her asleep but when he cleared the door, she was sitting on the edge of the bed wiping her face.

  “Here you go.” He handed her the glass and sat beside her.

  Her hand shook, and he put his arm behind her and rubbed her back. Slowly, she stopped trembling and emptied the glass. He carried the cup to the dresser and returned to the bed.

  Without telling her to get back on her side of the bed, he lay down and took her with him. He pulled her back against his chest, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She took his hand with both of hers, and clutched it between her breasts. His legs molded with hers. Holding her this way reminded him how tiny she was compared to him.

  A better man would’ve put any sexual thoughts out of his mind. She was scared and upset after having a bad dream, and needed comfort. A friend would give her the security of knowing she could rest and he’d protect her from whatever dream bothered her sleep.

  Not him.

  The hollow spot between her breasts swallowed his hand, surrounding him in warmth, the kind of heat that only came from having a woman’s body holding his. Her ass fit perfectly in the curve of his body. Her smooth legs were like silk against his hairier ones. He wasn’t immune to the differences.

  She smelled of warm vanilla, reminding him of the scent he picked up at the club when he was close enough to kiss her and had him dreaming of the possibilities of having his feelings reciprocated.

  He hardened at the thought.

  He also breathed heavy against her ear.

  He was out of control.

  He was an asshole.

  She didn’t need to worry about him right now or what was pressing against her backside, or him wishing she’d roll over so he could—

  Tied. I’m facing off with Kanu from the Steelers. There’s blood in his eyes. I bend low and dive for his legs. Kanu fumbles the ball…

  Shit. Football will not help me. I’m calling Drew in the morning.

  Chapter Ten

  Gary checked his phone for the fourth time since leaving the condo. Angie walked beside him toward the practice field in Renton, north of Seattle. He’d closed himself off all morning, and since she’d spent Saturday with Jules alone, and shopping for more appropriate clothes for her new job on Sunday, she had no idea what was bothering him.

  Ever since she made a fool of herself after having a nightmare about losing her mother again while sleeping in his bed on Friday night, she’d fought the funk that permeated her days. As soon as practice was over and she was alone, she’d call Drew. Maybe after talking with him, finding out if she was crazy or not, she’d know how to approach Gary about her attraction to him.

  Attraction. Such a silly word for what was happening to her. She wanted him, and for more than just sex. She loved having him in her life, and missed him when they were apart. Jules might be her best friend when it came to everyday life and girl fun, but Gary was a constant. He was the one person she allowed herself to feel vulnerable around, and she never realized how much until she spent twenty-four hours a day with him.

  With him, she wasn’t uptight, driven, focused on all the menial things that distracted her from living life. He gave her hope and confidence to stick with a plan and see it through. She was here, working for the Seahawks, because of him. She’d survived her teenage years because of him. In the back of her mind, she had a deep sense of security around him, and it had been placed there years ago, by him.

  And it scared her to death.

  Her fear of losing another person in her life—and she knew it was irrational—kept her from so many things. That was something she didn’t allow anyone to know. Not Drew, not Jules, and not Gary.

  Except, Gary would find out if she continued sleeping with him and she kept waking up having the same damn nightmare she’d had since she was eighteen years old. She sighed and stopped at the sidelines to the field.

  “Nervous?” Gary shoved his phone into his bag and tossed it to the ground.

  She inhaled deeply and shrugged. “A little. I’m supposed to meet John in a half hour. Apparently Hagman is returning with a strained hamstring. I’ll be working on him today. My first foray into working with guys twice the normal size of the males I usually worked on.”

  “Hagman’s small.” Gary studied her, seeming to want to say something more.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No, it’s something. What were you going to say?” She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve been quiet the last couple of days. Is it something you want to talk about, or I should ignore you because it’s normal pre-season stress?”

  He gazed out on the field where his teammates tossed a football around, warming up and waiting for the start of practice. “Watch out for the guys. They can act like assholes around a woman.”

  She laughed softly. “I think I understand how boys act. I grew up with you and Drew, right?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just let me know if anyone steps out of bounds.”

  She nudged his arm with her shoulder. “You sound like my brother going all overprotective.”

  “I’m not your brother.” He walked off, looping into a jog as he hit the fifty-yard line to join the others.

  She couldn’t win lately. Nothing she said or did helped get Gary in a better mood. She glanced at her phone to check the time, and decided calling Drew with the remaining twenty minutes she had until John showed up would save her time later.

  She hit the button and held the phone to her ear. On the third ring, Drew picked up.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Hey.” She smiled, genuine warmth filling her. She missed his ugly mug. “Can I just say that getting out of Deadhorse was the best thing for me?” />
  He laughed. “Happy, huh?”

  “Yeah…” She watched Gary throw a football in a perfect arched spiral through the air. “What have you been doing?”

  “Same ol’. Decided to paint the garage, since I took in two custom jobs in the past week,” he said.

  “That’s great.” She shoved her free hand in the front pocket of her yoga shirt. “Did the gas company change their rotation to Thursdays for you?”

  “Yeah, I had no problems changing the contract.” He paused. “You didn’t call me to talk about the garage. What’s up?”

  She turned away from the field, and even though Gary wasn’t paying attention to her now, she felt guilty for talking behind his back. “What do you know about Gary’s love life?”

  Drew cussed. “How am I supposed to know?”

  “I’m serious, Drew.” She paused, waiting, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to spill his secrets. “Come on, I’m curious. I know he talks to you.”

  “Does this have anything to do with him calling me about fifty times since Saturday morning? He keeps catching me asleep or with my hands covered in grease. What did he do, get himself stuck with some chick who became obsessed with him like the last woman he dated?”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No. What girl?”

  “Old news. He had a woman he dated a few times about a year ago, and she wanted something more and started stalking him. That’s why he moved to the gated condominiums. He was tired of answering his door at all hours of the day and night to find her wanting to visit,” Drew said.

  “Oh geez, that’s awful.” She paced as she continued. “No, I don’t think he has a problem with a girlfriend. He says he’s not seeing anyone.”

  “He never ‘sees’ someone. That’s not Gary’s way. I think it has to do with the way he grew up, and living with the losers who called themselves his foster parents. He’s not big on relationships or getting serious. Not that he doesn’t have his share of women; he has more than he needs.”

  “About that…” She sat down on a nearby bench. “Don’t you think he’d be happy if he was in a relationship?”

  “Are you serious?” Drew said.

  “I mean, he’s a great guy. We both know that. He deserves to have someone in his life to make him happy,” she said.

  “I won’t argue with that, but I’m going to stop you right now, because I know you. You’re going to drive him insane, and it’s the wrong time for you to be a pain in his ass. So tell your friend you’re not going to set Gary up with her. He doesn’t do blind dates.”

  “But what if it’s someone special?” She wrinkled her nose, knowing how stupid she was being by not coming right out and saying it was about her, not a friend. “Let’s just speculate for a second. Say the girl is just like me, and she’s in it because she’s serious. No fooling around, no playing games, and not out to screw him over. Do you think Gary is open to getting to know someone…like me?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know, sis.” Drew heaved a breath over the phone. “Guys don’t discuss what they want in a woman besides looks, brains, and how to spot one who knows not to talk too much.”

  “Funny, jerk.” She dropped her chin to her chest and lowered her voice. “Believe it or not, I only want what is best for Gary.”

  “Angie. Think about what you’re doing. You’ve had a lot going on in your life. You’re starting a new job, finding a new place to live, and the stress from the last few months are finally catching up to you. Don’t ruin your friendship with Gary over some fleeting idea you’ve got in your head that you can make his life better,” Drew said. “Concentrate on your life.”

  “I think I know what I’m doing,” she whispered.

  Several seconds went by with neither one of them saying anything. Finally Drew spoke. “Then talk to him first. Make sure you do it in terms he understands, not your usual back and forth way of talking. No guy wants to have a woman thrown at him and be taken by surprise.”

  “Yeah?” She raised her gaze to the field.

  Drew chuckled. “Yeah. Remember the last time you set one of your friends up with me?”

  She groaned. “I am sorry about that. Samantha was not who I thought she was.”

  “I still love you.” Drew muffled the phone and came back on the line. “Listen, I got a customer. I need to go.”

  “Okay.” She stood and walked back toward the players’ bench. “Thanks, Drew. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

  “Hey, before you hang up, Dad called.”

  “About?”

  “He was looking for you. I told him you’d moved back to Seattle. He wants to talk to you about keeping the kids again,” Drew said.

  She closed her eyes; she’d barely survived the last time she babysat them. “Okay, I’ll watch for his call.”

  “Cool,” Drew said. “Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  She shoved the phone back in her pocket. Teak Swanson, her father, always went about life at his own pace. Unable to settle down while he was married to her mom, they quickly divorced, while he traveled the world. His second wife seemed to keep him by her side, but she enjoyed traveling as much as he did, which meant the kids were foisted off on either Angie or Drew while they were gone. She loved her half siblings, but it took constant supervision and she had no idea how she’d manage to watch them with a new job.

  “Angie Swanson?” A male voice came from behind her.

  She turned and smiled. “Yes, I’m Angie.”

  “John.” He shook her hand. “Great to have you on board. Should we get started?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied.

  Dressed in jeans and a Seahawk sweatshirt, John led the way to the other end of the field. Tall, fit, and longish blond hair curling around his neck fooled her for a minute. He looked nothing like any physical therapist she’d met. But his easygoing attitude put her at ease as just another guy who enjoyed football.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gary’s stomach heaved. He bent at the waist, bracing himself on his knees. Finishing the 40-60-80 sprints signaled the end of practice for the day. Three hours of hell, where he pushed his body to the extreme, and he loved every minute of it.

  He hurt in more places than he was aware of before practice. The contents of his stomach, which was mostly water, threatened to come up. Most people believed he put his sweat and blood in the games, and they were right. They called it conditioning for a reason, and it wasn’t unusual to dislocate a finger, slice open a knee, or puke your guts out on the sidelines.

  If Coach asked him to get down to a six point—hands, knees, feet, and crouch—he’d probably topple over, he was that tired. But, he’d survived the day and he’d be ready for more on Wednesday.

  “Shit, man. I need answers.” McCormick sucked wind down the line from Gary. “Someone has got to get me that girl’s phone number.”

  Beside him, Yeager answered. “What girl?”

  “The new lady with the magic fingers,” McCormick said, grabbing his crotch. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

  “Bullshit,” Gary shot back. “Wimping out is more like it. Suck it up, cupcake, season’s only beginning.”

  He’d heard the talk the last hour. Every single man and half the men already taken eyed Angie any time they got a free second. He couldn’t blame them, but he hated it. Deciding to keep his roommate status secret, so to keep everyone away from Angie, he checked himself anytime she was mentioned. If they knew she was a friend of his, and stayed at his place, they’d be stopping by all the time.

  He started the long walk back to the other side of the field to grab his bag. All he could think about was going home, sinking down into the hot tub, and crashing for a few hours until he forgot about the exhaustion.

  Hell, he couldn’t even imagine next week when they actually put their pads on and scrimmaged with the extra weight on his body. He’d survive and be better for it, but every year got tougher, the players younger, bigger, and he was only getting older.

/>   As he reached his bag, took out a towel, and mopped his head off, he kept his eye on Angie. Twenty yards away, she stood talking with John and Benton, the quarterback. Both men laughed at something Angie said, and she smiled, shaking her head in pure happiness. Jealousy sparked inside him. Of course everyone liked her. She was perfect.

  But she belonged to him. At least until she found her own place to live.

  “Hey, Angie,” he called.

  She turned, waved, spoke with John and Benton, then jogged over to him. He hung his towel around his neck. The other guys watched him, and he turned his back to them.

  “You ready to go?” he said. “I’m skipping the locker room and heading straight home before I pass out.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” She picked up his bag with a groan.

  His hand closed around hers on the handle. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re exhausted. I’ll carry the bag, and you can concentrate on walking to the car,” she said.

  He took the duffle from her. “I can handle it.”

  They walked together. Angie glanced at him, fairly bouncing with each step. His body screamed in protest, but he could damn well carry his own bag. He wasn’t helpless.

  At the car, he tossed his stuff in the back seat, and leaned against the car for a moment to gather his strength. His legs had turned into jelly fifty paces back and his head swam. He needed to hydrate.

  She studied him over the roof of the car. “You okay?”

  “Beat.” He grinned. “It’s like this every year. If I survive the first week, there’s a good chance I’ll live.”

  “Poor baby.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “The big, bad pro football player is tired…”

  “I’d walk over there and spank you for that if I could make my feet move.” He shook his head. “Right now, I’ll be thankful if I make it to the hot tub.”

  “Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

  For a second, he honestly contemplated letting her slide behind the wheel of his Camaro. “No, once I sit down, I’ll be fine.”

  A half hour later when he climbed out of the car, he regretted his stubbornness. Every muscle screamed in protest. He would’ve felt better if he walked the entire distance home and not let his muscles tighten up.