Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks)

by Jami Davenport

  Hefting the bale as if it weighed ten pounds instead of one hundred and ten, Tyler carried it to the back of her ramshackle barn. Without a word, he returned to the truck and grabbed the next bale. Lavender stood back and watched, not one to bother a man on a mission. Especially when that mission kept her from being a flat spot on the barn floor.

  The chickenshit jock had avoided her all week. Even when he came into the VC, he sat with the Brothers and slithered out the door while she still had customers. He hadn’t brought up her father, just as she’d asked, yet it hurt her feelings he didn’t care enough to push anyway.

  Care enough? How stupid of her. He’d done as she asked and not gone there. Still, she wanted him to ask. Unreasonable for her, she knew. She kinda missed the sex, too.

  “Thanks for rescuing me from death by straw bales.”

  Tyler paused from his spot in the bed of her truck, hay hooks grasped in his gloved hands. He looked down at her. “I can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

  “I can’t resist a Prince Uncharming.”

  “Hey, I’m the king of asses.” Tyler graced her with his trademark lady-killer grin, as if that’d work on her. Nope. No way. This girl was immune.

  Then again—

  Her weak-willed body didn’t get the message from her brain and melted at his feet. One week was a long time to go without her neighbor’s talents. The man played on a mattress as well as he played on a football field.

  The muscles in his strong thighs bulged from the weight as Tyler heaved the last bale of straw to the top of the stack as if it weighed no more than a pillow. He flexed his throwing arm then rubbed it, as if he felt a twinge.

  “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, playing the Mr. Tough Guy. “I’m fine. Just side effects from playing a violent game for a living.”

  He waited, as if he expected a smart comeback. She didn’t have one. Not today. The NFL paid him well for the physical abuse he suffered every Sunday. Those were the trade-offs.

  Tyler pulled off his gloves and wiped his hands on his thighs.

  “You don’t have animals. What’s the straw for?”

  “For mulch? To lock in the moisture? Heck if I know. Gram insists we have it for the garden.”

  “I’m all for moisture. Makes things stand up better.” His eyes flicked to her drooping garden plants and back. “Moisture looks good on you, too.” He traced the sweat trickling down her neck with his calloused finger, not stopping when it disappeared under her T-shirt but following the line down to where her sweaty shirt stuck to her cleavage. Their gazes locked, and she knew they’d be vertical in no time. His blue eyes smoldered, singeing her with the promise reflected in them. Dang, how she’d missed his body. He moved close to her, pinning her against the truck. Grabbing her waist, he hoisted her butt onto the tailgate and pushed her knees apart, stepping between them.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.” Lavender ran a hand across his cheek.

  His eyes darkened, and he pressed closer. “Yeah, well, my coach being your dad is weird. I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”

  “I haven’t seen him in years. He’s a father in name only so don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay.” He looked anything but okay.

  “Can you deal?” She arched her back and pushed out her breasts, using her body to distract him and get beyond this too personal thing growing between them. Lavender had always enjoyed sex, but she’d become a slave to her desires, thanks to this gorgeous, self-proclaimed asshole. She would not let her obsession with getting this man naked temper her emotional dislike of him.

  “I’m working on it.” Tyler pushed her down on the bed of the truck. His hard cock rubbed against her crotch. He shoved her sweatshirt and her bra up to expose her breasts. She moaned as his warm breath teased one pebbled nipple followed by an even warmer mouth. His tongue drew lazy circles around her nipple as his mouth sucked—now, that took talent. When it came to sexual expertise, the jock stood in a league of his own.

  He drew back and admired her generous breasts. “I’m going to buy you some new jewelry for these babies. Something to remind you of me. Maybe some little footballs.” She writhed against him, as he toyed with her nipples.

  “Anything but footballs. Oh, my. Oh. Ty.” Lavender arched her back, loving his touch. He bent down. His mouth covered hers. She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair. He tempted her with his lips, tantalized with his tongue, and she yielded to the web he wove. Completely under his spell, Lavender lost herself in the feel of his marauding mouth and did a little marauding of her own.

  Cougar leapt onto the truck bed and crawled onto her shoulder. Tyler pulled back when the cat stuck his face between theirs.

  “Get lost, Coug.” Ty pushed him away. “Get your own pussy.”

  Coug ignored them and swatted at a lock of Lavender’s hair.

  She heard the slam of a car door followed by a second slam. Oh, crap. Lavender wrenched out of Tyler’s grasp, kneeing him in the groin. He yelped and doubled over. Ignoring him, she yanked down her shirt and bra, as she leapt off the tailgate.

  “What the fu—fudge?” Tyler ground out through his teeth. Geez, the bet was over, and he was still trying to clean up his mouth. He’d never cared before about his swearing. This wasn’t good.

  “Grandma and Grandpa just drove up.” Lavender smoothed her hair and straightened her clothes. In another few minutes, he’d have been inside her. They would’ve been humping like rabbits, and her grandparents would’ve witnessed it all. The grief Doris piled on would’ve reached epic proportions.

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler groaned from his bent over position.

  “You have to go.” She fought to control the panic in her voice, even though embarrassment colored her face a bright red. A grown woman shouldn’t allow her family that much control over her life, but most families weren’t like her family. Lavender learned to travel the path of least resistance—give her grandmother what she wanted on the surface then fly under the radar and do whatever the hell she pleased.

  “Hell, I can’t even stand up straight, let alone walk.”

  “Don’t be a wuss. Get out of here.”

  Tyler looked up, still hunched over. “No.” His blue eyes drilled into hers. She cringed at the determination reflected in them.

  “Ty, please.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll be here any second.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.” She knew where he was going with this.

  “So who cares what your grandmother thinks?”

  “You don’t get it,” she hissed. “You’ve never cared what anyone thought, even your mother. Never needed to keep the peace.”

  “You have no effing idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Please, Tyler, out the back door.”

  “No.” Tyler stood up straighter. His face still a little pale from the pain. He put his hands on his hips. His jaw jutted out in a display of cussed stubbornness. She knew enough about him to realize he wasn’t budging. “You don’t want to be seen with me.”

  If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect she’d hurt his feelings. “Please, she’ll be really pissed to see you here.”

  “So? You’re over twenty-one. You’re an adult. This is your life, she doesn’t get a vote.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re damn right I don’t understand. Every time she shows up—and that’s a lot—you kick me out or tell me to stay home.”

  “Tyler, please.”

  “Nope, I’m staying. Payback’s a bitch.”

  Too late for more pleading, Lavender pasted a fake smile on her face and accepted her fate.

  * * * * *

  Tyler hadn’t a clue why he’d insisted on staying. Maybe just to be contrary. Maybe curiosity about his college coach’s ex-wife, or maybe for reasons he damned well shouldn’t explore, such as sensing their relationship was about to turn a corner
, and he needed to remind Lavender what an ass he could be. Just by the furious expression her face, his message had been received loud and clear. And he wasn’t done yet.

  Tyler instantly disliked Lavender’s grandparents. By the sour looks on their faces, the feeling was mutual. Despite the fourteen-plus inches’ difference in height, Doris Mead looked down her nose at him as if he was some kind of vermin infesting her space. Long-festering bitterness added extra lines and years to her scowling face. Maybe she’d been attractive forty-plus years ago before the hatred and anger made her a vindictive old woman.

  Larry Mead let his wife do the talking but stood back with a smug, self-righteous smirk on his ruddy face. The guy barely reached Tyler’s chin and wore his disdain like a billboard. Obviously, he also ate a little too well, as evidenced by his ample belly. His gray hair was combed back and a little longish behind, like a television evangelist.

  “Gram, Grandpa, this is Tyler.” When neither of them responded, she turned to Tyler, her expression pleading with him to behave himself. “Ty, this is my grandmother, Doris Mead, and my grandfather, Larry Mead.”

  Doris sniffed as if she smelled something foul, while fat Larry inspected the stack of straw. If Tyler was lucky, one of the bales would fall and bury the prick. He plastered a fake smile on his face. “Mrs. Mead, it’s a pleasure.” He nodded to her husband. “Mr. Mead.”

  “Dr. Mead.” Larry rewarded Tyler’s rare politeness with a curt nod and continued to poke and prod the stacked hay. Lavender rung her hands together, her eyes full of worry.

  “Larry’s a psychologist.”

  Oh, man, her grandfather was a shrink. She’d never mentioned that. He hated being psychoanalyzed because he knew he’d come up lacking.

  Catching Tyler’s pained expression, Lavender bumbled on. “He’s not a practicing one. He’s a retired professor from the University of Washington.”

  Like that made it any better. They were just the type of people who made Tyler feel inferior, and he detested feeling inferior to anyone. He stood up straighter, using his height to intimidate.

  “What did you get your degree in?” Larry grinned, as if he already knew the frigging answer.

  “I went pro before I got my degree.” Hell, with his grades, he’d still be trying to finish his first year if he hadn’t joined the NFL.

  “You’re a football player.” Doris Mead spat out the words like some foul-tasting medicine.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stifled a grin, enjoying toying with this woman.

  Doris rounded on Lavender like a prize fighter going in the for the knock-out blow. “Lavender, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? Will you ever learn?”

  “Gram, he’s just a neighbor. I needed help unloading the straw.”

  “Larry could have helped you.”

  Tyler doubted the little prick had the strength to wrestle with a field mouse, let alone those bales. “Mrs. Mead, not to worry. Lavender keeps me around for my brawn.”

  The woman blanched and turned to her husband. “Larry, perhaps, we should return when Lavender doesn’t have a guest.”

  Tyler sprawled in a plastic lawn chair. “Mrs. M, I’m not company. I spend too much time here for that.” Tyler grinned with sheer, cussed joy.

  Lavender choked and her witch of a grandmother stiffened like she had her broomstick stuck up her ass. “I prefer to be here when you’re not.”

  “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I must stink. Next time you drop in, I’ll make sure I shower.” Tyler smelled under his arms, and he thought the woman might faint. Damn, needling this hag provided great sport, so why stop now. “You know, it’s sure a small world. I had no idea Vinnie’s dad was my college football coach until a few days ago.”

  Lavender’s face paled.

  Every muscle in Doris’s body broadcasted her intent to see him six feet under or sinking into the channel. “We don’t refer to that man as Vinnie’s father. He doesn’t deserve the title.”

  “No, shit? I have the highest respect for your former son-in-law. He was my college coach and a mentor. I would think he’d be an excellent father.”

  Larry sputtered, while Doris’s eyes flashed fire. He might as well have said he idolized a cannibalistic serial killer. He’d made an enemy, or two, but he couldn’t stop himself, despite a twinge of guilt over Lavender’s obvious alarm.

  “You, young man, have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. How dare you defend that man in my presence and my granddaughter’s presence.” Doris perched her chubby hands on her hips. Larry hurried to her side and stood helpless behind her.

  Lavender jumped into the fray. “Please, Tyler. Don’t refer to Brian Gerloch as my father. As far as we’re concerned he’s dead to us. Thanks for the help with the straw.” Despite her anger, the pain and betrayal broadcast on her face kicked him in the gut.

  Tyler recognized a ‘fuck off’ when he heard one. His head pounded from all the tension, while Doris’s oppressive selfishness smothered him. It was all about her, to hell with her granddaughter and what she wanted. He’d never witnessed such an impressive job of brainwashing, even if his old coach might deserve their ridicule, which he doubted.

  Tyler turned to leave when Doris called to him. Turning back, he saw her lip curl into a cruel snarl. “My granddaughter needs a man with integrity, with brains, with a future. She needs a man who has more to show for his life than a Super Bowl ring.”

  “Two Super Bowl rings.” Tyler faked a cocky grin. For a minute, he swore the woman would launch herself at him and start punching.

  “Regardless. You are not that man.”

  With an indifferent shrug, Tyler strolled away, purposely keeping his gait slow and easy, as if these crazy people didn’t affect him one bit. What he really wanted to do was beat tracks back to the relative quiet and safety of his mansion. When he passed the gate between the properties, Cougar jumped off the fence post where he’d been waiting and ran ahead to the back door.

  Irritation ruffled Tyler’s ego, along with a bone-deep fear of his inadequacy. He wasn’t good enough for Lavender, wasn’t good enough for anyone. He was just a dumb jock. A guy who wouldn’t have anything going for him if it wasn’t for his arm, his talent for reading defenses, and his ability to make something out of nothing. Not to mention his money.

  But money didn’t buy respect or piece of mind.

  If it wasn’t for his athletic ability, he’d be homeless and living under the Alaskan Way viaduct because he’d never have made it out of high school, let alone college. His only marketable skills depended on his muscles and his no-quit attitude.

  Except that attitude had deserted him last season, leaving him with a big fat zero in the positive qualities department. Without his killer instincts, his drive, his ambition, he didn’t have much else going for him. A blanket of fear smothered Tyler, made it hard to breathe, like he was on the bottom of a dog pile of three-hundred-pound linemen.

  He slumped into a chair and stared mindlessly at the flames from the fireplace. Coug perched on the back of the chair. His tail whipped back and forth in annoyance over God knew what. Tyler felt like shit. Not on the outside, but on the inside. He really was a first-class ass, and he didn’t deserve all the good things that’d come this way in his life.

  Hell, he couldn’t even grant a dying kid’s last wish. That’s how much of a failure he was. And he’d just been a real ass to Lavender and made her life hell when it came to her grandparents for no reason other than to be the asshole everyone expected him to be.

  Tyler sighed and wondered if he could sink much lower.

  Chapter 14

  Broken Tackle

  Tyler strode into the VC, pretending he owned the world and everyone in it. His asshole mode served him well, especially when confusion reigned inside his head. At least on the outside, he appeared in control.

  He hesitated when he saw Xandra, not Lavender, mixing drinks. He considered leaving, but driven by curiosity, he kept walking across the room. He sat his butt o
n his bar stool. Xandra slid a beer across the counter to him. He stared at the label of his favorite brew and decided not to ask how she’d known what he wanted to drink.

  “Where’s Vinnie?” He glanced around the bar. The Brothers played cards in the far corner. Except for their table, the place was deserted.

  “She’s off today. My day to work. She volunteers at the senior center then she makes the Brothers dinner at Homer’s house.”

  “Oh.” Tyler had no clue that she cooked for the Brothers or volunteered with seniors. Not knowing this detail of her life rankled him. Not that he cared one darn bit. He smiled to himself, proud that he’d used darn not fuck, and in his thoughts. Lavender would be impressed, not that it mattered.

  “Besides, she’s not speaking to you.”

  Crap. “I figured as much.” He scrubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath, but nothing eased the shame weighing him down.

  “Don’t you get it?”

  “Not really.” Which was the crux of the matter. He had questions. Zan, as Lavender’s best friend and cousin, should have the answers, at least to the less personal questions—the ones about his coach.

  His instincts warned it was best to let sleeping dogs lie and not get any deeper into this. He couldn’t. He’d already seen his high school coach accused of points shaving, now his revered college coach appeared to be a deadbeat dad. In the four years he’d been around Brian Gerloch, he’d never mentioned a daughter, just a son who’d played college ball for a few years.

  But first he needed to settle a score with Zan. “So what’s with this sensitive crap?”

  “Being called sensitive disturbs you?” She rubbed a wine glass dry with a towel and gave him one of those all-knowing looks that really got under his skin.

  “Hell, yeah. You insulted my manhood.”

  “Tyler, you are one messed up guy.”

  He couldn’t dispute that fact. His frown tightened the mask of indifference on his face. “I’m not sensitive.”

  “You are sensitive. It’s common for alpha males to hide their sensitivity behind an asshole exterior, but you’ve honed it to an art form. I’ve never seen someone so out of touch with their real self.”