Run With My Heart (Texas Tornadoes Sports Romance Book 1)

by Lorana Hoopes

  He stood, stretching his stiff legs, and crossed to the open door. “Thanks, Mike, my dad finally show up?” Tucker hadn’t wanted to get his father involved, but better him than anyone on the team. So he’d used his one call to phone his father. Perhaps with his money, he could make the whole thing go away before anyone found out. He’d been working, of course, but had promised to do what he could.

  The guard dodged his stare and shifted from one foot to the other. “Something like that.” He blinked and Tucker noticed the back of his eyelids were tattooed as well. He couldn’t imagine how painful that had been; and he wondered if Mike was just a sadist, or if he had been using the pain from the needle to cover up some larger pain in his life.

  Mike locked the cell door after letting Tucker out and then led the way out to the processing area. However, as the door opened and Tucker caught a glimpse of the figure waiting for him, his heart sank. It was not the stocky figure of his father, but the lean physique of Blaine Hollis waiting for him. How in the world had Blaine found out? And why was he here?

  Tucker gathered his personal items, taking an extra moment to compose himself as he shoved his keys and wallet in his pocket, before turning to face Blaine.

  “He all set?” Blaine asked Mike as if Tucker wasn’t standing right next to him.

  Mike glanced quickly at Tucker before dropping his gaze back to the counter. “Yes, sir, he’s good to go.”

  “Good. Let’s go, Jackson.” Blaine headed for the exit without giving Tucker a chance to say anything. Tucker’s stubborn streak wanted to refuse, to demand to know where his father was and why Blaine was here, but he could tell from the stiff set of the quarterback’s shoulders that this was not the time nor the place. What could he say anyway?

  The tense silence filled the space between them like some invisible third party as Tucker followed Blaine to his Ford Mustang. Red, yellow, and orange streaked the sky in a beautiful artistic pattern as the sun rose, but Tucker couldn’t enjoy it. He was too worried about his future. Blaine unlocked the doors and motioned Tucker into the passenger seat, but he said nothing until they were both inside and the doors were closed.

  “What were you thinking, Jackson?” Blaine’s voice was low, but Tucker did not miss the anger that threaded it. “This isn’t what I meant when I told you to think about your job.”

  “I wasn’t trying to start the fight, Blaine.” Tucker hated that he was having to defend himself to Blaine of all people. “I was trying to enjoy one beer. One. But then the man poked me and spouted off about my sister, so I got up to leave. He tackled me from behind, man. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You’re supposed to keep your cool,” Blaine said in a tight voice. “We are in the public eye, Jackson, so everything we do is scrutinized. On top of that, our record isn’t where our fans or the owners would like it to be. You may not like it or agree with it, but that puts added pressure on us. We can’t afford any negative publicity right now. Not that it matters, but what was the fight about?”

  Tucker shrugged, knowing his explanation changed nothing. “The guy was drunk and evidently he bet a grand we would win the game yesterday. Needless to say, he wasn’t too happy when we lost.”

  Blaine’s sigh shook his broad shoulders, and he gazed out the windshield as if trying to think of what to say. Tucker took the opportunity to ask the question burning in his throat.

  “Why are you here, Blaine? I called my father, not anyone from the team.”

  For just a moment, Blaine’s jaw tightened, the muscles rippling beneath his skin. “Your father was buried in a case, Jackson. He couldn’t make it, so he called Coach and Coach called me.”

  Disappointment blanketed Tucker’s shoulders. His dad couldn’t even find time to help out his son when he was in jail? He shouldn’t be surprised; he couldn’t remember the last time his father had been there when he needed him. “So, what’s the verdict? Am I suspended?”

  “No, not suspended. Your father may not have been able to be here, but he is still influential. Your charge was only going to be disorderly conduct anyway; but he got it dropped completely, so you wouldn’t face suspension. However, you will have a hefty fine to pay, and we’re going to have to find some way to improve your image in case this gets out. Some sort of community service.”

  “Community service?” Tucker exploded. “I was defending myself.”

  Blaine shot him a silencing look. “Community service is not negotiable. You have a chip on your shoulder, Jackson. It’s affecting your game play, and now it’s affecting the whole team. I don’t know what your story is, but I think it’s time you took a look at how the less fortunate live. Maybe that will give you some perspective.”

  Perspective. Blaine knew nothing about perspective. His father was probably in his life, and he probably attended every game Blaine had ever played. Tucker clenched his jaw to keep from saying the words rising in his throat. It would do no good to argue with Blaine right now. “What kind of community service and for how long?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Coach and the public relations guy are going to look at some options. The judge didn’t officially assign any, so that means they don’t have to align it with the incident at the bar. This is more a requirement from the team. I’m sure it will be low key, but I would keep your evenings free. At least for the foreseeable future.”

  “What about practice? What about the next game?” This couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t started the fight. He’d tried to leave. Yes, he might have punched the guy one too many times, but he was only defending himself. Who could blame him?

  “You’ll still attend every practice and every game. The service will be done in your off time, and if you don’t fulfill the time, then you will be suspended without pay for the remainder of the season. Should we happen to lose before the championship game, you will fulfill that suspension at the beginning of next season. Am I clear?”

  “Crystal.” Tucker said as he slumped against the seat. He should be grateful. It was better than being suspended, but giving up his evenings to do charity work was certainly not how he had planned to fill his time.

  * * *

  Shelby stared at the phone as she thought of what to say. How could she persuade the football team to send one of the players to help her out? She had nothing to offer in return besides the good karmic feelings of helping others out.

  “You can’t make the sell if you don’t at least try,” Kenzi said from behind her.

  “I know, but what if they say no? Our usual donors have been so quiet this year. What if it stays like this? What if people are too busy or too focused on themselves to care about others? What if we’re seeing the end of charitable donations?”

  Kenzi’s right eyebrow lifted as she chuckled. “Wow! Doomsday much? Seriously, you were made for this. Call them, tell them the amazing things you do, and ask them for a player to hold a clinic or a signing or whatever. I’ll bet you’ll be surprised by humanity’s response. I don’t think we’ve completely fallen into the abyss yet.”

  “You’re right,” Shelby said with a shake of her head. She wasn’t usually this dramatic, but it had just seemed the last few months that people cared less about the other people around them and more about their electronics. She’d seen more and more people scrolling their phones as they walked or during meals while others sat across from them, and their last fundraiser — a carwash in the summer — had been an absolute flop. People had said they were too busy to stop or that they’d come by later. Except they never had. The kids had been so disappointed. Shelby just didn’t want to have to disappoint them again.

  She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. She’d Googled the information for the team when she’d first arrived at the center and had found the public relation manager’s number. As her fingers pressed the buttons, she sent up a silent prayer for the right words to say.

  The phone rang once, twice, three times in her ear. Disappointment pressed down on her shoulders, but just as she was about to
hang up the phone, a voice answered.

  “Hello? This is Blaine Hollis. How can I help you?”

  Blaine Hollis? She didn’t think that was the name she’d seen on the website. Had she dialed the wrong number? Her fingers hadn’t been shaking that badly, had they?

  “Oh, hello, I thought I was about to get a voicemail.” Shelby’s words spilled out in a frantic ramble. She took a calming breath and tried again. “My name is Shelby Doll. I’m the director of the Southlake Community Center. Perhaps you know that we serve the community as a low-cost alternative for after school and summer care for children.” Ugh, she sounded like a bad saleswoman, the kind who didn’t know what to say and therefore just rattled off all the details.

  “I’m calling because we are looking for donations to keep our doors open. I don’t know if your organization does this sort of thing, but I wondered if there might be any players on your team who would be willing to host a clinic that we could charge for or an autograph signing or something.” Shelby shook her head as she paused. She really should have scripted her speech better. Practiced it on Kenzi or something.

  “You want a football player to come and host a clinic at the community center?”

  The man on the other end said the words slowly and thoughtfully, but Shelby wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just chewing the idea over.

  “Yes, sir. It would be great community service, and I imagine it would be a great outreach for the team as well. Meet the community, sign some autographs, I’m sure your fans would eat it up.” Finally, she sounded like someone who knew what she was talking about. She waited as the silence drew out. What was he thinking?

  “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Shelby. Shelby Doll.”

  “Well, Shelby Doll, I think I know of just the player for you.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice and her heart sped up. Could she really be about to get her miracle? “You do?”

  “I do. His name is Tucker Jackson. I’ll send him over this afternoon, and you can work out the details.”

  Shelby felt like jumping from her chair and dancing around the room. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “No, thank you, Shelby.”

  She found his wording odd as she hung up the phone. Why did he sound as if she had just given him the miracle instead of the other way around?

  “They have someone?” Kenzi asked.

  She had been so quiet that Shelby had forgotten she was still in the room. “Yeah, a Tucker Jackson.”

  Kenzi’s eyes grew to the size of quarters as her head dropped forward, sending her brown hair swishing across her thin shoulders. “Tucker Jackson? The running back?”

  “Uh, maybe?” Shelby wasn’t even sure what a running back was, much less if Tucker Jackson was one. “I didn’t ask. The guy said Mr. Jackson will be here this afternoon.”

  “Oh my gosh! This is huge. Can I take a slightly longer lunch to go home and change?”

  “Change?” Shelby’s eyes roamed over Kenzi’s outfit. Tight stretchy pants that accentuated her figure and a flowy blouse was her outfit of choice today. Not exactly what Shelby would classify as professional attire, but Kenzi generally worked with the kids where her full outfit was rarely seen by parents, and no one had complained yet. “Why? You look fine.”

  “Yes, but fine is what you wear when the cute UPS guy is stopping by with a package. It is not what you wear when Tucker Jackson, star running back for the Texas Tornadoes, is stopping by.” Kenzi flashed her best puppy dog face and clasped her hands together under her chin. “Please?”

  “Fine.” Shelby rolled her eyes. She certainly hoped Kenzi didn’t lose herself over this guy. It wouldn’t be the first time, but she needed her friend’s head in the game if they were going to save the center.

  4

  “Jackson, Tony, I have the perfect solution.”

  Tucker looked up as Blaine re-entered the room, a giant smile on his face. He had been manning Tony’s phone while Tony gave Tucker an earful about public image. As if he didn’t understand the importance of public image. His father had never attended a game, but he’d made sure Tucker and Whitley were by his side every time he made some big donation to the school or a local charity. “Public image,” his father had told him once when he asked why they had to be there. “If the people love you, business is always better.” Somehow, his father had lost sight of the fact that your children loving you was just as important.

  “What solution, Blaine?” Tony’s voice held a note of irritation. No doubt he’d had at least another ten minutes of brimstone he’d wanted to rail down on Tucker’s head. The man was great at his job, slick and professional without being slimy; but Tucker believed he was as good as he was because he loved the sound of his own voice. He would talk your ear off any chance he got.

  “I just took a call from the community center. They are looking for a way to increase revenue, and they want a football player to host a clinic and sign some autographs.”

  “A clinic? What would I do at a clinic?” Tucker asked. He’d heard of clinics but not usually by active players. They were normally put on by retired players looking to stay active in the limelight, either to help with endorsements or because they just couldn’t handle no longer being in the public eye.

  Blaine shrugged. “Who cares? Teach them how to hold the ball, how to run routes, bore them with football stories, whatever you want.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  But Tucker didn’t get to finish because Tony held up his hand to interrupt him. “Now, hold on, Tucker. Blaine might be onto something. If we do this correctly, we could show you doing a good deed for the community. Build morale for both you and the team.”

  “But I’ve never held a clinic before. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

  “Nonsense, how hard can it be to teach a few kids how to hold the ball and run a play?” Tony asked.

  Tucker shook his head. Tony had never played football, so he didn’t understand the complexity behind the game. And he didn’t seem like the type to hang around kids, much less teach them, but Tucker knew he wasn’t going to win this argument. Besides, as far as community service, he could probably have been assigned worse. Picking up trash on the side of the road or helping out in a nursing home definitely sounded like more work than teaching kids about football.

  “Will the clinic satisfy all my required hours?”

  “Probably not. The team wants you to fulfill twenty hours. The clinic itself would only be a few hours, but I bet the center could use some help during the week, especially with kids being out of school for Christmas break. They are out next week, aren’t they?”

  Tucker shrugged. He didn’t have kids, so keeping up with a school schedule was not something he did.

  “Well, you can find out for sure from Shelby. If you helped out before and after practice all next week, then it might satisfy the hours. Right, Tony?” Blaine turned his attention to the PR director who was nodding thoughtfully.

  “Yes, I think that could work. Try to get the clinic scheduled in the evening so parents can come. That way it benefits the kids and helps build our fan base.”

  “Exactly. Plus, it would show your good will and all,” Blaine said.

  Though he phrased it as a suggestion, Tucker knew it wasn’t one. Blaine expected him to spend the next week at the center as if it were a job. “Fine, I’ll report there Monday morning.”

  “Actually, the director is expecting you this afternoon to hash out the details of the clinic. She’ll need time to organize and promote it, so you should head over there now.”

  Tucker sighed as he nodded. There was no use arguing with Blaine once he grabbed hold of an idea. And how hard could it be, really?

  * * *

  Shelby tapped her watch again and sighed. Kenzi had been gone over an hour, and their doors would open for kids in less than forty minutes. There was no way she could run the center and watch the kids by herself.r />
  “Excuse me, I’m looking for Shelby Doll. Do you know where I can find her?”

  Shelby glanced up at the masculine voice she did not recognize and blinked. A dark-haired man stood before her. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and his chocolate brown eyes looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. Normally, she might take offense to that, but at this moment, she’d rather be somewhere else too. Somewhere where she wasn’t in charge, where kids weren’t counting on her, and where she wouldn’t have to stare at disappointed faces all day.

  “I’m Shelby Doll. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Tucker Jackson. I’m the football player who will be running the clinic and whatever else you need next week.”

  So this was Tucker Jackson. He was definitely not what she’d expected. She’d expected someone with a friendly attitude or a smile at the very least. This man before her looked as if just being here pained him, and she wondered if he’d been assigned to do this for some reason instead of volunteering out of the goodness of his heart. She supposed she shouldn’t care. Though she had no idea who he was, it was clear Kenzi did, which meant other football fans probably would as well. And she was desperate, so as long as he could be nice and bring in a crowd, he would do in her book.

  She stood and extended a hand, plastering a big smile on her face in hopes it would prompt him to do the same. “Of course, Tucker. Nice to meet you. Have you ever put on a clinic before?”

  “Afraid not,” he said with a shake of his head and a nonchalant shrug, “but how hard can it be, right?”

  Shelby swallowed her sigh. She had been hoping he would come with ideas at least, something she could work with, but it appeared she’d have to be helping him with the whole thing as well as dealing with his surly attitude. “Okay, well, why don’t you come around here and join me? We can hammer out some details.” She motioned for him to proceed through the main door and then met him in the hallway.