Yeah, that would go over real well.
Taylor stabbed another brussels sprout and pointed it at him. “You never told me about Hou—”
Her words were drowned out by an eruption of cheers.
Jamar glanced at the fifty-two-inch flat screen mounted above their table and discovered why. He took a long pull on his beer, washing down the mix of longing, nostalgia, and jealousy that collected in his throat as he watched UT’s running back eat up yardage on his journey to the end zone.
The foot stomping and overall chaos from the people surrounding them caused the walls of the Tavern, one of Austin’s oldest sports bars, to vibrate with unrestrained excitement. As with the previous three touchdowns, a host of fans came up to Jamar and Taylor’s table to offer high fives.
He reminded himself that interacting with the public—having them see him out with Taylor—was the main reason they chose to come to this bar to watch one of the most anticipated games of the season. Though tempting, asking Taylor to move to one of the more secluded tables would defeat the purpose of their being here.
“I guess the Longhorns did something good,” Taylor said once the volume in the sports bar had returned to just below jackhammering at a rock concert decibels. She propped both elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “As I was saying, you haven’t mentioned your trip to Houston. Is everything okay?”
“It is now,” Jamar answered. “Well, except for the fact that I walked in on my parents in an…umm…compromising position on the kitchen counter. I’ll never be the same again.”
“Oh, God, no. That is the worst! It happened to me when I was eight. My mom said they were wrestling, so I ran in the bed and joined them. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. And I’m sorry to confirm it, but you’re right, you will never be the same.”
“I’m trying to put the entire ordeal out of my mind.”
She barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
“You’re having too much fun at my expense,” Jamar said.
“I’m laughing with you,” she said. “So what was the point of your trip to Houston, other than an impromptu visit to surprise your parents that went horribly wrong? I thought it was an emergency. You sounded…I don’t know…unsettled when you called to cancel our session.”
“I was a lot unsettled,” he said.
He glanced up at the screen just in time to see Texas Tech’s kick returner get clobbered in a bruising tackle. Jamar winced, recalling with painful clarity how it felt to have 260 pounds of muscle crashing into him at twenty miles an hour. That was one thing he didn’t miss about football.
“A friend—no, more than just a friend,” he corrected. “A man who is like a grandfather to me suffered a fall and ended up in the emergency room. He’s the grandfather of my best friend from high school.”
“Silas Cannon?” she asked.
Jamar’s shoulders stiffened with shock. How did she know about Silas?
As if she’d heard the question in his head, she continued. “My friend Samiah is from the Houston area. She told me about your friend Silas and, well, what happened to him. You should have told me,” she said in an accusatory tone. “I had to find out the full story from Google.”
“Or you could have called or texted me,” he said with a casualness he didn’t feel. He was still trying to process the fact that she knew about Silas and hadn’t said anything. “In the future, if there’s anything you want to know, that’s all you have to do. I’m a much better resource than Google.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Google is how I discovered that you ran track in high school. You should have told me that too.”
“It sounds as if Googling me is now a favorite pastime for you.”
She laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Twenty-Three. After witnessing the way people go crazy over you, I had to find out what all the hype was about. It was obvious that I was missing something.”
“Ouch.” He slapped a hand to his chest as if covering a wound. “You know, as my trainer, you can do a slightly better job at pumping up my ego instead of taking a sledgehammer to it.”
“You hired me to build up your muscles, not your ego.” The amusement glittering in her eyes dimmed as her soft smile sobered. “I’m sorry about your friend. It must have been so hard to lose him.”
“He was my brother in every way but blood,” Jamar said. “I know there are things I may face in the future that would possibly be harder than losing Silas, but it’s hard to imagine them.”
It wasn’t lost on him just how rare it was to talk about his Houston ties with anyone. He recognized the shift it signified in how he regarded Taylor. He’d never discussed Silas in even the most superficial way with any of the women he’d dated in the past.
Of course, none of his past relationships had been deeper than those kiddie pools they sold at Target, but this revealed a lot about what was happening between them. He felt…comfortable with Taylor. More comfortable than he’d felt with anyone else in so long.
“Anyway,” Jamar continued. “Big Silas—that’s what everyone calls Silas’s grandfather—he needs round-the-clock care, but he’s stubborn as hell. Silas’s sister, Andrea, is looking into hiring a full-time nurse.” He caught her gaze and did his best to communicate how important this was to him. “I want to make sure Big Silas gets the best care possible, not just right now, but for the rest of his life.”
Jamar could tell the exact moment she caught the meaning behind his words. She nodded, then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
To anyone looking at them, they would appear to be a normal couple on a date, sharing a relaxed smile as they held hands. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her wrist, sending a silent message of gratitude for the way she just sat and listened as he talked about people she didn’t even know. It meant so damn much to him.
After several more moments passed, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go.
“So this game we’re watching, what’s so important about it?” she asked in a voice that was meant for others to hear.
“Texas versus Texas Tech? The honor of winning the Chancellor’s Spurs trophy? You’re kidding me, right? Even if you don’t follow college football, you can’t live in Austin and not understand the importance of this game.”
She hunched her shoulders. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Twenty-Three. I’ve been here almost two years and I have no idea what any of it means.”
Jamar ran a hand down his face. “I still have so, so much to teach you.”
The server came around with a second round of drinks for them. Jamar started to order more wings, but Taylor stopped him.
“I can’t eat any more.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She looked up at the server and said, “Thanks. We’re good with the drinks.” Once the guy had left the table, she looked over at Jamar with a sly smile. “You think you’re slick. I know you were just trying to prolong your splurge meal.”
He pointed at his chest. “Me? Never.”
She rolled her eyes as she lifted the laminated menu from the condiment holder in the center of the table.
“I’ll agree to dessert, but only if we split it.”
Jamar observed the way her lips moved as she read over the menu, even though she wasn’t speaking loud enough for him to hear. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed her doing that.
“Hey, have you—”
“Looks like we got ourselves a star in the house,” a brash, inebriated voice called from somewhere nearby. “None other than Diesel Dixon. That is you, isn’t it, Diesel?”
He glanced in the direction of where the voice had come from. There was a group of guys sitting two tables over, dressed head to toe in Texas Tech red and black.
Shit.
He was hoping this would be a case of quickly appeasing a couple of tipsy fans with an autograph or two, maybe a couple of selfies. But these guys didn’t want his autograph.
&nb
sp; “You here living out your glory days, Diesel?”
Taylor hooked a thumb toward the table of four. “Who’s that?”
Jamar made a cutting gesture with his hands. “Nobody. Don’t worry about them.”
Several of the other fans in the sports bar had turned their attention from the TV screens. Jamar knew he needed to defuse the situation before this got out of hand.
“Don’t worry about these guys,” he said loud enough for those at the surrounding tables to hear. He infused amusement into his voice in an attempt to convey an air of joviality he wasn’t really feeling.
“Yeah, Diesel was all big and bad when he played for those Longhorns,” the guy continued, his words slurred. “The boys in the NFL showed you what real football is about, ain’t that right? How’s that knee treating you?”
Taylor twisted around in her seat.
“Taylor,” Jamar warned, but it was too late. Poor bastards.
“Has your skinny ass ever even played football?” she asked the mouthy one. “Why don’t you just shut up and watch the game.”
There were murmurs of agreement from some of the other patrons.
The guy cackled. “Oh, you got your girl fighting your battles for you?”
“I don’t need—” Jamar started, but Taylor talked right over him.
“He knows that I can kick your ass with one hand while I finish eating my cheese fries with the other. Why should he waste the effort?”
The guys at the table burst out laughing, but Jamar wasn’t willing to take a chance that their good-natured ribbing wouldn’t turn ugly. He stood and made another attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’d watch what I say around her if I were you,” Jamar said with a laugh. “Not only could she kick your asses, but she would have fun doing it.” He threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “Let’s get out of here, Taylor. Maybe if the Raiders had come to play, it’d be a game worth watching.”
Jamar did his best to ignore the table of heckling Texas Tech fans as he and Taylor headed out of the sports bar. He reminded the offended Longhorns faithfuls to ignore the guys. The last thing anyone needed was a brawl to break out.
Breathing a sigh of relief once they exited the Tavern, he glanced over at Taylor and grinned.
“You really were ready to kick some ass, weren’t you?”
“Hell yes,” she said. She hooked a thumb back at the sports bar. “Is this the kind of bullshit you’ve had to put up with since you got hurt?”
He shrugged as he opened the door of his SUV and helped her into it.
“Usually guys aren’t that drunk this early in the day,” he said. “But, yeah, I get some version of that at least once a month.”
“How haven’t you landed yourself in jail on an assault charge!”
“You’re cute as hell when you’re angry on my behalf,” Jamar said.
“I don’t want to be cute. I want to go back there and kick that guy in the face.” She caught his arm before he could close the door. “This shit just became personal. If it means shutting up assholes like the ones we just had to deal with, I’m ready to do whatever I have to do to get you on a football team.”
“It sounds as if I’m going to have to suffer even more in the gym because of these guys.”
“In the gym and out of it,” she said. “It starts tonight with our survivalist training.”
Jamar winced. She’d asked him to join her for some lost-in-the-woods-type experience she wanted to develop for Taylor’d Conditioning. Even as he’d agreed to tag along, he knew he’d live to regret it.
“Are we still doing that?” Jamar asked.
“You bet your ass we are,” Taylor said. “Get ready to rough it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The last fading rays of sunlight cast dappled shadows on the leaf-covered ground of Pace Bend Park. Taylor led the way through the uneven terrain, trying her best to avoid unwelcome surprises left by the critters who called this densely forested patch of land home.
She’d considered a number of local parks for tonight’s adventure but had settled on this one in Spicewood because of its primitive campsites that would give them the “roughing it in the woods” experience she was going for.
She and Jamar had veered off the marked trail a good half mile back. They should be nearing the innermost area of the park soon.
“Let’s stop for a second,” Taylor said. “I need to get my bearings.” She reached into one of the zippered pouches on her backpack and pulled out her compass.
“Is that a compass?” Jamar asked.
She laughed at the incredulity in his tone. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
He slipped his phone from his pocket, swiped his thumb across the screen, then held it up to her. “Not sure if you know this, but these cool little computers that fit in your pocket? They come equipped with a compass.”
“Ha ha, smart-ass. What if that cool little pocket-sized computer doesn’t have cell service, or worse, what if you lose it? Knowing how to use an actual compass can be a lifesaver.” She studied the compass and confirmed that they were still headed in the right direction. “Remember, the whole point of this exercise is to be a survivalist. At least that’s what I’m hoping people will sign up for.”
Taylor had convinced him to join her on the test run of the survivalist camp experience she planned to offer on Samiah’s Just Friends app. She’d been honored when her friend asked her to put together a curated experience for Taylor’d Conditioning.
They continued their hike, maneuvering around the remnants of a dank, crumbling log. Fallen leaves carpeted the earth, their crunch seeming to get louder as darkness fell.
“We’ll need to pick up the pace if we’re going to make it to the campsite before the sun goes down,” Taylor said.
“Tell me,” Jamar called from just behind her. “Did you consider how cold it would be before you decided to do this?”
Taylor raised her voice to be heard above the crunching pine needles underfoot. “Survivalists don’t get to pick the weather on the night they get stranded. The point of this exercise is endurance. I’m building this for those people who want to put themselves to the test. Who want to see just how far they can push themselves, and then push a little more. And have fun while doing it.”
“Maybe I should pull up my Dictionary app and show you the definition of fun. Something tells me you still don’t know what that word means.”
“And something tells me that you’re still a crappy comedian.”
“Admit it. My jokes are growing on you.”
“I will not admit to any such thing,” she said, unable to mask the amusement in her voice.
The fact is, he was growing on her.
For the hundredth time, she fought the urge to suggest they end this ridiculous game where they pretended they didn’t want each other. She only had to say the word. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Jamar would be ready, willing, and able to pick up where they’d left off on Mount Bonnell.
She wouldn’t have to rely on her vibrator and the memories of that afternoon for relief. He would give her the release her body so desperately craved.
She ignored the hot, growing ache in her belly and continued on their hike.
Using the compass, she navigated them to the spot she’d picked out to spend the night. Because of an ongoing drought, they were not allowed to use the fire rings, so they would have to make do with thermal blankets and their sleeping bags.
Taylor unrolled the blankets from her backpack, then unhooked the bag that held her tent, which Jamar had carried strapped to his back. When he tried to help her, she shooed him away.
“I appreciate the chivalry, but I want to prove that I can do this.”
“You plan on getting lost in the woods?”
“Does anyone ever plan on getting lost in the woods?” She looked back at him over her shoulder. “You are not getting into the spirit of this. I’m extremely disappointed.”
“You’re right. I�
��m sorry,” he said. She thought he was sincere until he added, “Should I go chew on some tree bark or find some bugs for dinner? That’s the kind of stuff they eat on Survivor, right?”
She pitched a skinny tree branch at him. “Smart-ass.”
His rumbling laugh sounded even louder in the quiet of the forest.
She refused to give him the satisfaction of laughing with him as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He unpacked his knapsack and cleared away some of the larger branches that had fallen to the ground.
She should be happy that he’d agreed to camp out with her this cold November evening. It was more than any of her past boyfriends had ever done.
Except Jamar wasn’t really her boyfriend. He wasn’t her significant anything. He was a client—a client whose dick had been pressed up against her as he kissed her against a tree, but still just a client.
Taylor stifled a groan.
She excused herself and went in search of the waterless toilets placed throughout the campground. According to the map, there was one about thirty yards from their campsite.
When she returned, she found Jamar sitting on a fallen tree that had no doubt served as a couch to many campers in the past. He was bundled up in his thermal blanket with…was that…?
“Is that a heater?” Taylor asked.
“You said we wouldn’t be able to start a fire. You didn’t expect me to sleep out in forty-degree temperatures without some form of heat, did you?”
She guessed that was a bridge too far.
“Is this thing battery operated?” she asked.
He nodded. “I had Amazon overnight it.” He patted the downed tree. “Come on. It’s warm.”
She was about to tell him no, but then a brisk wind blew, rattling the trees overhead and cutting through her jacket like a sharp knife. She skittered over to his sofa log and huddled in beside him.
“Okay, yeah, this is much better,” she admitted.
“Told you.” He pulled her in tighter. “Now, if we really wanted to warm up, I’ve heard body heat is the best kind of heat.”
The Dating Playbook Page 15
