How to Score (35 page)

The final chord of the accordion squalled loudly through the receiver.

Beside Chase, Paul was facedown, gasping into the passenger seat.

“So what do you think?” Horace asked meekly.

“I think you’re the man.” Chase whacked Paul as he let out a snort. “You’re a halftime show and a half.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Have you ever thought about performing publicly?”

“Well, sure, I’ve
thought
about it. But I wouldn’t dare. Besides, where would I perform?”

“There’s a coffee shop near the river that has open-mike night for poets and musicians every Friday. It would be perfect for you.”

“Really?” His voice quavered with eagerness, then dropped to despair. “But I couldn’t. I’d be terrified! And Mother would have a fit.”

“Your mother wouldn’t need to know. Just think about it. Try picturing yourself jamming at a microphone, and imagine how it might feel.”

“Wow, that could be so cool!”

“It sure could. I want you to think about it and visualize it. That’s what extra point kickers do—they run the scene through in their minds, imagining it so thoroughly that they smell the sweat of the other team, hear the thud of their foot hitting the ball, see the ball sailing over the goalpost. They feel like they’ve already done it. So imagine it like that, and see how it would make you feel.”

“Okay. Hey, I’ve got an idea! Maybe I’ll picture myself rapping in public, and then saving a girl in the audience from a mugger.”

“All right, buddy. Talk to you next week.”

“Unless you mug me sooner.”

Don’t hold your breath
. With a sigh, Chase hung up the phone.

Paul lifted his head. His face was red and creased from being pressed to the car seat, and tears ran down his face. It took him several moments to stop laughing and catch his breath. “Wow,” he gasped. “That dude is seriously wacked!”

“He’s getting better.”

“That’s better?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, it is.”

Paul wiped his eyes. “I don’t know how you kept it together.”

Chase scowled at him. “You didn’t help.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Laughter rumbled in his chest as the mere thought set him off again. “I gotta say, I’m impressed with how you handled it.”

“Thanks.”

Paul ran his big hand down his face. “So how are you handling Sammi? Have you told her the truth yet?”

Chase’s stomach knotted. “No. I tried to, but… ”
But I slept with her instead
. Man, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have thought that was a good idea? Yet it had seemed like his only recourse at the time. She’d been so anxious and insecure and vulnerable.

Right, bucko. So you thought you’d fix things by boffing her?

Chase muttered a low oath and raked a hand through his hair. Some life coach he’d turned out to be. And now she was going to call, and he’d have to lie to her again.

“I’m planning to tell her this weekend.”

“Better do it.” Paul’s expression grew serious. “I gotta tell you, Melanie really likes her, and she’ll never forgive you if you break that girl’s heart.”

Melanie’s not alone. I’ll never forgive myself.
“I want to make sure she hears me out, so I’m taking her camping up at my property. I figure that if I get her alone out in the wilderness, she’ll be stuck with me long enough to calm down and listen. If nothing else, we’ll have a long drive back together.”

“That’s either brilliant, or the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

Chase lifted the nearly empty Starbucks cup from his drink holder and held it aloft. “Here’s hoping for brilliant.” He swallowed the last swig of cold coffee and grimaced.

“Guess you won’t be coaching anyone for much longer,” Paul said. “Isn’t your brother due back next week?”

Chase nodded. “He’ll be in Oklahoma City for the start of the trial on Monday, but he’ll be in protective custody. I won’t get to see him until after it’s all over and the nephew is arrested.”

Only problem was, the nephew had eluded surveillance, and no one had seen hide nor hair of him for the last week. It was only a matter of time until he was found again, but in the meantime, Chase was nervous.

He crumpled the empty coffee cup. “Luke’s not safe until Johnny’s locked up, because he thinks his uncles are as loyal to him as he is to them.”

Paul shook his head. “Blind trust is a sad and pathetic thing.”

Yeah. Like the way Sammi trusted him. Chase’s stomach churned as the phone rang. “That’s Sammi now.”

Paul reached for the door handle. “Know what—I think we should watch for this guy from two different angles. I’ll be across the street.”

“Good. ’Cause it’s kinda hard to do surveillance with your head in the car seat.”

Paul grinned and shot him the finger. Chase waited until the door slammed, then drew in a deep breath and answered the phone.

“Hi, Luke. It’s Sammi.” Her voice slipped around him, as warm and sensuous as tropical water.

“Great to hear from you. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I want to thank you so much for all of your advice.”

Guilt vise-gripped his chest. “You sound like you’re in a good mood.”

“I am. Chase came over this weekend, and… ” She managed to make the word “and” sound suggestive.

“And what?” Chase prompted.

“It was amazing.”

Chase grinned at the dashboard. How could he feel so good and yet so awful at the same time? “So you had a good time.”

“Fantastic. Beyond my wildest dreams.”

“So all of your issues—”

“Aren’t issues any longer. But I have a new one.”

Uh-oh. “What’s that?”

“I’ve fallen in love.”

Chase felt as if he’d been thrown out of an airplane without a parachute. He dropped his head onto the rim of the steering wheel, then forced himself to straighten back up. “Isn’t it awfully soon for that? You haven’t known him all that long.”

“I’ve known him long enough to know he’s everything I’m looking for in a man.”

His upper lip broke a sweat. “But… what if he’s not?”

“He is. And it’s not just my opinion; I’ve gotten to know his partner’s wife really well, and she says what you see is what you get. According to her, Chase is just as terrific as he seems.”

Oh, hell. He couldn’t let her go on thinking he was a frickin’ saint. “Hey—no one’s perfect. I mean, everyone has flaws.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s perfect—not by any means. He has a lot of flaws.”

Hearing that didn’t please him as much as it should have. “Like what?”

“Well, he’s something of a self-control freak. He’s kind of obsessive about planning everything out and keeping things neat. He grew up in chaos, so he likes to know what to expect.”

“Well, as faults go, that’s not too bad.”

“He has other ones.”

“Yeah?” he asked warily. “What else?”

“Well, he’s a little paranoid. He’s always looking around and watching people and kind of evaluating them. He’s hyperaware of his surroundings. But I think that’s part of what makes him really terrific at his job, too. He noticed that pedophile acting odd all the way across the restaurant.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad a trait.”

“That’s not all.”

Holy cow, just how many faults did she think he had?

“He’s terrible about staying in touch,” she continued. “He hardly ever calls. And he’s really reluctant to talk about emotions. After we’ve been close, he immediately tries to distance himself.” She paused. “At the same time, though, I’m pretty sure he has feelings for me.”

Oh, he had feelings, all right. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have a problem. His stomach twisted like a trailer in a tornado.

“The bottom line is, I trust him. And I was afraid I’d never trust another man.”

Chase ran a hand down his face, feeling like the lowest of the low. “You’ve learned to trust yourself, Sammi. This is about you, not him.”

“No. It’s about the two of us together, and how he’s changed my life.” She paused. “Not that you haven’t, too. You’ve been a big part of that. A huge part.”

Oh, man—this was just getting worse and worse. He mopped his suddenly perspiring forehead.

“Look, Sammi—you’ve done all the work. And if you were to find out tomorrow that Chase and I were both pond-scum bottom-feeders, it wouldn’t change the fact that you’ve made terrific progress.”

“It’s so funny that you’d use that term.” She sounded surprised. “Chase has called people that, too.”

Tell her
, his conscience urged. “There’s, um, actually a reason for that.”

A scuffling noise sounded through the phone. “No, Joe!” Sammi said, apparently speaking away from the mouthpiece. “Drop it!” More scuffling sounds. Her voice came back clearly. “Hang on a moment. My dog just dragged my leather jacket out of the closet, and he’s trying to make love to it.”

The phone rattled. “Give it to me, Joe,” he heard her say from a distance. “No, Joe. Down! Stop it, Joe. Joe, sit. Joe! Come back here, Joe!” The ruckus grew fainter. After several moments, she came back on the line. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s okay.”

“You were about to tell me something about bottom-feeders.”

Chase jammed a hand through his hair. He couldn’t just dump this on her over the phone. She deserved to hear it in person, as he’d planned.

“It’s a, uh, local term.” Time to shift the topic—fast. “How is work going?”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know I’ve been very assertive. I’ve invited the Preservation Commission, the museum board members, and the media to tour my home on Thursday. I’m turning the house into a museum. I’m labeling everything and putting up little signs explaining the significance of all the art deco features. I hope it’ll help them see the historic value of the place.”

“That’s a terrific idea.”

“Thanks.” She sounded pleased.

Hell, she should be. The idea was brilliant. She’d texted him—as Chase, of course—with the idea the day before, and he’d encouraged her to go for it. “What does your boss think about it?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“I tried, but she refused to listen. She said she didn’t want to hear another word about the house and she kept cutting me off.”

“So it’s her own fault.”

“Yes.” Sammi sighed. “I feel really bad about it, but I have to stand up for what I believe in, and I believe in saving this house.”

“Good for you.”

“Chase said that, too. You and he have a lot in common. I think you’d really like him.”

I’m not so sure about that
. He shifted uneasily on the seat of his SUV.

“Anyway,” she continued, “the fact that he believes in me has given me a lot of confidence. I can’t tell you how much it means to have his support. And your support, too, of course.”

“I don’t think you need both of us anymore,” Chase said. “You’ve really upped your game and learned how to score, so I think you’ve outgrown the need for a life coach.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“But I really like talking to you!”

“And I like talking to you. But my schedule is overbooked, and you’ve worked through your main issue. You’re on a winning streak, and I think now you can just talk to Chase.”

She paused a moment. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Chase hit a button on his phone. “My next client is calling. Remember to keep your head in the game.”

“Wait! I need to pay you. Tell me where to send a check. Or do you want me to use PayPal? I can—”

He clicked again. “Bye, Sammi. It’s been great working with you!”

He hung up and blew out a sigh.

There—he’d done it. He’d officially severed the coach/client relationship. Nothing stood between them having a romantic relationship now.

Nothing, that was, except for the truth—and the fact that she was likely to never want to speak to him again once she heard it.

A
rlene walked into her kitchen three mornings later, her white-and-blue flannel bathrobe cinched tight, and put on a pot of coffee. While it brewed, she unlocked the three locks on her front door, bent down, and picked up her newspaper from the porch.

As she straightened, Walter’s car pulled into her driveway. Her pulse quickened. What was he doing here? She hadn’t seen him since he’d come to her house for lunch, but he’d called her several times just to chat. Just last night they’d talked for over an hour, and they had plans to go bowling tomorrow night.

Oh, dear—she must look a fright! She ran a hand through her hair, tugged the sash of her robe, and gave a tentative wave.

He waved back as he climbed out of his sedan, a newspaper in his hand. “Good morning,” he called.

Her stomach fluttered as he walked toward her. Something in the way he moved reminded her of Clint Eastwood. “Good morning, Walter. What brings you here at this hour?”

He grinned. “Thought I might come by and get a cup of coffee.”

It was an awfully familiar kind of thing to do. If the neighbors saw a strange man’s car in her driveway first thing in the morning, they’d think he’d spent the night.

So?
The devil’s advocate in her mind responded.
He’s not married
—
and Lord knows we’re both of age.
It didn’t have to be a big secret, like when Chandler came to call.

She smiled. “I just put some on. Come on in.” She held the door, and he followed her through the living room to the kitchen. She self-consciously ran a hand through her hair. “If you’d given me some notice, I would have at least brushed my hair.”

“I think you look lovely.” He leaned against the counter as she pulled two mugs off little hooks under the counter. A thrill chased up her spine.

She fussed around, getting out milk and sugar. The coffeepot gurgled. “I must say, this is quite a surprise. A welcome one, of course, but quite unexpected.”

He shuffled his feet. “The truth is, Arlene, there’s something in the paper that’s likely to upset you.”

Arlene went very still. “What is it?”

“It’s probably best if you just read it for yourself.”

“Oh, dear. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s not all that bad. But I figure it’ll be a surprise to you, since you didn’t mention it on the phone last night.” He pulled out a chair.