Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks)

by Jami Davenport

  “You missed all the Super Bowl parties.” Derek pulled out the other bar stool and plopped his ass on it. He took a pull on his beer, and Tyler braced himself for whatever the hell came next.

  “Been there, done that. Besides, my car shoved its nose up a cop car’s butt. I had a little explaining to do.”

  “Yeah, you sure have a nose for trouble.”

  “You let the team down again by driving drunk so you’re hiding out here.” Murphy inserted himself into Tyler’s private conversation. How he’d managed to hear over the din, Tyler couldn’t fathom. He shot the jerk a glare. Murphy just raised one eyebrow and saluted Tyler with his beer can.

  “Seriously, why are you here? A little scandal’s never driven you out of town before.” Derek turned his back on the rest of the team, blocking Tyler’s view of Murphy. An intentional move, no doubt.

  “Some obscure great uncle left me this run-down piece of crap, but I have to live here in hell for ninety days before I take ownership.” Even Derek didn’t know about his friendship this past year with Uncle Art.

  “It’s rustic but not really a piece of crap, just needs some cosmetic work.”

  “I’m working on restoring it.” Tyler appraised the den, imagining it from his cousin’s neutral position. Faded wood paneling, he wasn’t even sure what kind of wood, but definitely exotic and expensive and most likely irreplaceable, covered the walls, along with an impressive array of scarred wood trim, hardwood floors in need of buffing, and worn area rugs. Arranged around the massive fireplace, pieces of antique furniture were scattered, and not dainty shit either, but furniture made for men to use. Good thing, considering the size of the men currently sprawled on his furniture.

  “You’re doing the work yourself?” The asshole Murphy frowned at the television then jabbed at the remote. The picture on the television showed nothing but squares of color, a digital snowstorm.

  “Some of it.” Tyler hated admitting to manual labor, not good for his image.

  “What the hell’s wrong with this damn TV?” Murphy shook the innocent remote, obviously wishing it were Tyler’s neck instead. Well, back at you, dickwad.

  Tyler fought back a grin. “Give it up. My TV service goes in and out. It’s all part of living on the island. Welcome to my life without working electronics.”

  Murphy picked up his phone.

  Tyler chuckled, loving Murphy’s initiation into island life. “No cell service either.”

  “How the hell do you stand it?” Murphy paced the floor a few times then grabbed another beer. Grumbling, he slumped in the armchair by the window, shoved on his earphones, and ignored them all. Coug helped himself to Murphy’s lap, his paws kneading on the linebacker’s leg. Murphy yelped when the cat’s claws dug too deeply.

  “You can leave anytime. Let me show you the door.”

  “And miss out on all the fun. Not on your life.” Murphy leaned forward and snapped his fingers at Bryson who’d found a deck of cards. “Deal me in, Bry.” Bryson scrambled to do so. Tyler rolled his eyes at the pathetic way the defense catered to Murphy.

  “So how’s it going? Really.” Derek lowered his voice and leaned closer. Tyler could have sworn Murphy’s ears pricked up, even though the guy faked disinterest.

  “Just counting down the days until freedom.”

  Derek shrewdly assessed his cousin. “You don’t seem to mind it here that much.”

  “I hate it. I’m just being a good sport.”

  “You are never a good sport.” Derek knew him too well. He didn’t buy Tyler’s bullshit. “Hiding out isn’t going to give your attitude a kick in the ass. Plus as soon as you come out of hiding, the press will be all over you.”

  Tyler sucked on his beer and didn’t answer. Tolerating a weekend with these assholes required a lot of beer. He’d send the rookie to the store for several more cases.

  Derek changed tactics. “What’s with the cat? You hate cats.” Coug, the traitor lap slut, luxuriated on Murphy’s lap. The man petted the cat absently as he stared at his poker hand.

  “I was taken hostage and turned into slave labor.”

  Derek’s grin turned ruthless, the rat bastard. “Ah, I get it. You’ve met a woman, and she’s into cats.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact which hit too close to home.

  Ty shrugged, not about to give away anything.

  “You have. You’re an animal lover, but not cats. Never cats. They’re not manly. It’d ruin your bad boy image. So who is she?”

  “No one you know. Have you seen Cass?” He patted himself on the back for his deft sidestep.

  “Nope, she left town right after the Super Bowl and never looked back.”

  “Oh, well.” He meant it. He didn’t really care, sad but true. He’d spent years with the woman, and she’d barely caused a blip on his emotional radar. He’d bet the feeling was mutual.

  “She was all wrong for you, Ty. You were toxic for each other.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Tyler put the empty bottle in the bar sink. He popped the top off a cheap beer and handed it to Derek then opened a microbrew for himself.

  “I liked her, but not for you.” Derek stared at the beer and frowned before taking a sip and making a face.

  “Weird thing is I don’t miss her.”

  “Not even the makeup sex?”

  Tyler shrugged and his cousin studied him with shrewd appraisal. Even Murphy turned his head to hear the answer.

  “Ah, ha. I knew it. There’s someone else.”

  “I’ve found a hot body to warm my bed.”

  “Just a hot body? That’s all?” Derek’s skeptical expression said it all. He considered Tyler full of shit. “By the way, Steve wants to know what the hell is up with you?”

  Tyler sighed. His cousin was an annoying bastard and his agent, Steve, even worse. “Look around you. I’m stuck in nowhere hell.”

  “That doesn’t stop you from returning your calls.”

  “It does when I have to travel five miles just to get cell service.”

  “What’s stuck up your ass, anyway? Don’t think I didn’t notice your attitude during our last playoff run and the Super Bowl.”

  “I always have attitude. I’m the king of attitude.”

  “No, actually, it was the lack of attitude which worried me and everyone who knows you. You were on auto pilot, and you were just good enough to pull it off.”

  “No one really knows me.”

  “I do.” His cousin stared him straight in the eye, his gaze unwavering. Ty knew he’d been outed.

  Derek did know him better than anyone, yet even his best buddy didn’t know what lurked in Tyler’s murky depths. Most times, Tyler didn’t know himself.

  “Ty, you won the Super Bowl on pure technical ability. You weren’t bringing it on the field. Our defense won the game for us, and you know it.”

  Ty looked away, unable to answer his cousin’s question because he didn’t know the answer himself.

  “What’s wrong, Ty? Hey, man, if you’re not leaving your heart out on the field every game, you need to hang up the cleats.”

  The room had gone unusually quiet. Murphy grunted his agreement, but for once, kept his mouth shut. The rest of his teammates studied their cards and pretended they didn’t hear a thing.

  “Nothing’s up with me. Nothing.” And that was the problem. He felt like a big fat nothing. The only time he felt alive was with Lavender, but that was a spring fling. As soon as his ninety days were up, he’d haul ass to the first ferry out of here, sell the place, and never look back.

  Never.

  * * * * *

  Lavender snuck through the gate between her property and Tyler’s, more than a little peeved at him for bringing up her father once again. For a man who insisted on keeping their relationship purely physical, he sure got himself involved in her family dynamics. She didn’t know what to make of the mixed messages he kept sending.

  Several vehicles were parked in the circular driveway. Each one bigger and mor
e expensive than the one before it. Tyler had company, a team full of company, and curiosity drove her to check them out, while admittedly, check out whether or not a house full of gorgeous women came with his hunky guests. Hey, she was sleeping with the guy, and he’d damn well better not be messing with other women while he was sleeping with her. It was one of her unwritten rules. Regardless of how casual their relationship might be.

  One of the guys who’d hauled a duffle bag up Tyler’s steps earlier looked so much like Tyler she knew it had to be his cousin, Derek Ramsey, consummate good guy and Tyler’s exact opposite. The straggler of the group wore his bad attitude for all to see, just like Tyler. Every one of them was big and built. Judging by the pushing and shoving as they jostled onto the front porch, they’d come ready to party.

  Since Tyler wouldn’t come to the team, the team came to Tyler.

  Lavender paused in mid-knock and listened. The noise inside the large mansion reverberated against the thick walls and shook the window panes. They’d never hear her. She turned the door handle of the unlocked door and let herself inside.

  Following the racket to the den, Lavender hesitated in the open doorway. Several guys had draped their big bodies in Tyler’s overstuffed antique furniture. Many held cards in their hands, others played pool, a few more watched a hockey game. Well, attempted to watch since Tyler’s television reception went in and out. All of them drank. Tyler and his cousin sat on a couple bar stools and attempted a conversation over the racket.

  The big guy with the attitude lounged on the leather couch. He looked up and caught her eye. A slow smile crossed his ruggedly handsome face. His brown eyes lit up as he did a slow perusal of her body. Remote in one hand and cards in another, he muted the television and stood. An inch or two shorter than Tyler, he moved his husky body with incredible ease and grace for one so large. Despite her declarations against any football knowledge, the coach’s daughter in her recognized the infamous Zach Murphy, the best linebacker in the league, perhaps ever. The man’s handsome face was plastered all over the gossip mags and the web due to his notorious reputation and racy underwear ads.

  “Well, pretty lady. Come on in.” Zach held out his hand to lead her into the room. The jock’s compliment dripped with country boy charm.

  She’d picked her clothes carefully before coming over and knew she looked pretty darn good in her form-hugging green sweater and best blue jeans. She’d tied her unruly hair back in a ponytail and put on a little makeup, anything to give her the edge in a house full of randy jocks.

  Upon hearing Zach’s words, Tyler jerked around and almost fell off his bar stool. Something akin to jealousy and possession shone in that blue gaze. He literally vaulted across the floor in a few long strides, reaching her before his teammate even knew what hit him.

  With a possessive gleam in his eyes, Tyler pulled her to his side and held her there. Zach stopped a few feet away and regarded them with undisguised amusement. Tyler glowered back, gripping her so hard she fought for her breath. She’d walked into a powder keg fueled by male testosterone and professional dislike.

  Refusing to be the pawn in anyone’s game of revenge, Lavender stomped on Tyler’s toes and elbowed him in the ribs. He yelped and loosened his hold just enough for her to escape. She walked forward and accepted Zach’s outstretched hand. “I’m Lavender, and you must be the nefarious Zack Murphy.”

  Zach held her hand in his big paw and stared into her eyes. “Nefarious. I like that. And I like you, you just might be my favorite color.”

  Lavender laughed and yanked her hand from his. Her back bumped into Tyler’s unyielding chest in the process. Tyler’s hot breath tickled the back of her neck. His body shook with barely controlled fury. She could feel the heat of his anger radiating from him to her shoulders, down her spine, even her butt. His big hands locked onto her shoulders. He’d claimed possession, which was nine-tenths of the law.

  Regardless of what he might need to prove to his teammate, no man treated Lavender like his personal piece of property, especially one who continually made it clear their relationship was physical.

  Tyler Harris did not own her.

  While she harbored no interest in Zack Murphy or any of Tyler’s other teammates who gathered round and introduced themselves, Tyler didn’t need to know. The obnoxious jock deserved a little discomfort in his privileged life.

  “So, boys, are you going to invite me in for a drink?” The guys fell all over themselves as they moved aside and offered her their recently vacated seats. She sat down on the couch. Zach immediately claimed the spot next to her. Tyler rousted the rookie from the other spot and sat down on the opposite side. His arm on the back of his couch, he tucked her close to his side.

  Derek grinned and winked at her. Tyler’s cousin enjoyed this as much as she did.

  Turning to Zach, Lavender blessed him with her best smile. “Deal me in.”

  Zach wagged his eyebrows. “How about a little game of strip poker, honey.”

  “No fucking way in hell.” Tyler’s warning didn’t deter Zach one tiny bit. In fact, it egged him on. A few of the other guys cringed, while others just chuckled.

  This might be the best fun she’d had in a long while. Tyler Harris was certainly off his game tonight, and Lavender had the better game plan.

  Chapter 17

  Fumbled Return

  After a few rounds of poker, in which Lavender lost her shirt, figuratively speaking only, she left the boisterous, drunken group of jocks and escaped to the privacy of her little home. Tyler walked her to the door, still pissy and behaving like a cave man, and incredibly sober. He’d had the gall to demand she leave her door unlocked. She’d half a mind to latch every deadbolt in the place, but in the end lust won out. Sex with a hot and angry Tyler appealed to her way more than it should. He’d become her chocolate-dipped-strawberry craving, her weakness, her secret yearning.

  After unlocking the back door, she sat down on her bed in her lonely little room. At first the silence had welcomed her, now minutes later it smothered. She missed the rowdy noise of Tyler’s team.

  Tyler. What the heck was she going to do about Tyler?

  Tyler, the self-proclaimed asshole who wore his bad attitude like a merit badge. For almost two months she’d fooled herself into believing she was a much better person than the arrogant, entitled jock could ever dream of being. Yet, Coug attached himself to Tyler as if it was his cat-given right. The Brothers embraced him as one of their own, whether he liked it or not. Tyler’s teammates cared enough to travel to the island to spend some time with him. Tyler might pretend they were pains in his ass, but she knew better. He liked having them there. Well, except for Zach. He hated Zach, but that was another story.

  She’d crashed his jock party tonight to pay him back for bringing up her father yet again. Unfortunately, her strategy turned inside out. Sure, she’d ruffled Tyler’s feathers by flirting with Zach.

  Unfortunately, all those jocks sitting around reminded her of her younger years. In her father’s high school coaching days, his team filled their house. Guys came and went at all times, day and night. Her father’s door had always been open. As a result, he’d given so much to the team, he’d left very little for his family.

  Even so, Lavender had been daddy’s little girl, a star female athlete sure to get scholarships for softball or volleyball. Brian Gerloch had doted on his princess until the day he packed his suitcase and walked out of her life forever when she was fifteen. She locked herself in her bedroom all weekend and cried, completely inconsolable. At first she blamed her mother for nagging so much she drove him away. After Mom died, she saw the light and put the blame on her father. She never picked up another ball and never went to college on a scholarship or otherwise. In fact, for the remainder of high school, she drowned her disappointment in alcohol and partying. Her grades sucked. She struggled for a year at community college and dropped out.

  Always drawn to senior citizens because of a wonderful set of now-deceased g
randparents, she worked in various nursing homes and swore she’d find a way to better their lives. Now that dream was swept out with the tide, thanks to Artie’s one-eighty in his will, and Tyler’s selfish intentions. Despite all those disappointments, ultimately she could only point a finger at herself. She’d believed the promises of the people in her life, instead of creating her own good fortune.

  No more. Especially when it came to Tyler Harris and her father.

  Viciously, Lavender swiped a hand across her cheek to remove the one lone tear. Why thoughts of her dad still brought tears after all these years, she didn’t know. He’d been a no-show in her life for twelve years. She’d buried her pain so deep, not even her controlling, over-protective grandmother suspected how much Brian Gerloch’s absence shaped the woman Lavender had become.

  If her own father didn’t love her enough to stick around, why would anyone else? Maybe she’d driven her dad away, caused all of this somehow. Or maybe her father, a jock himself, made typical jock choices and never once regretted his decision to walk out on his son, daughter, and wife without so much as a look back. Obviously, they didn’t fit into his new life as a Division 1 football coach.

  Well, guess what, Brian Gerloch, you don’t fit in mine.

  Tyler didn’t fit in her life either, despite her screwed up fascination with him. Sexual attraction she could handle easily, but she’d be kidding herself if she believed that’s all there was. Not that she’d fallen in love, she still didn’t like him. The jock did have a few minor redeeming characteristics, if a girl looked hard enough. Like those hard, lean muscles, the way his hair stood up on end after a wild night in bed, or how his blue eyes sparkled when he was giving her shit. Or his soft spot for animals. And maybe he wasn’t as dumb as she’d first thought. In fact, his sharp mind impressed her. None of it mattered because, she’d never attach herself to a man with a sports career. Athletes were married to the game and the game only. Everything else fell by the wayside in the endless pursuit of the next championship.