Playing for Hearts (76 page)

“Funny, jerk.” She dropped her chin to her chest and lowered her voice. “Believe it or not, I only want what is best for Gary.”

“Angie. Think about what you're doing. You've had a lot going on in your life. You're starting a new job, finding a new place to live, and the stress from the last few months are finally catching up to you. Don't ruin your friendship with Gary over some fleeting idea you've got in your head that you can make his life better,” Drew said. “Concentrate on your life.”

“I think I know what I'm doing,” she whispered.

Several seconds went by with neither one of them saying anything. Finally Drew spoke. “Then talk to him first. Make sure you do it in terms he understands, not your usual back and forth way of talking. No guy wants to have a woman thrown at him and be taken by surprise.”

“Yeah?” She raised her gaze to the field.

Drew chuckled. “Yeah. Remember the last time you set one of your friends up with me?”

She groaned. “I am sorry about that. Samantha was not who I thought she was.”

“I still love you.” Drew muffled the phone and came back on the line. “Listen, I got a customer. I need to go.”

“Okay.” She stood and walked back toward the players' bench. “Thanks, Drew. I'll talk to you in a few days.”

“Hey, before you hang up, Dad called.”

“About?”

“He was looking for you. I told him you'd moved back to Seattle. He wants to talk to you about keeping the kids again,” Drew said.

She closed her eyes; she'd barely survived the last time she babysat them. “Okay, I'll watch for his call.”

“Cool,” Drew said. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. Teak Swanson, her father, always went about life at his own pace. Unable to settle down while he was married to her mom, they quickly divorced, while he traveled the world. His second wife seemed to keep him by her side, but she enjoyed traveling as much as he did, which meant the kids were foisted off on either Angie or Drew while they were gone. She loved her half siblings, but it took constant supervision and she had no idea how she'd manage to watch them with a new job.

“Angie Swanson?” A male voice came from behind her.

She turned and smiled. “Yes, I'm Angie.”

“John.” He shook her hand. “Great to have you on board. Should we get started?”

“Absolutely,” she replied.

Dressed in jeans and a Seahawk sweatshirt, John led the way to the other end of the field. Tall, fit, and longish blond hair curling around his neck fooled her for a minute. He looked nothing like any physical therapist she'd met. But his easygoing attitude put her at ease as just another guy who enjoyed football.

Gary's stomach heaved. He bent at the waist, bracing himself on his knees. Finishing the 40-60-80 sprints signaled the end of practice for the day. Three hours of hell, where he pushed his body to the extreme, and he loved every minute of it.

He hurt in more places than he was aware of before practice. The contents of his stomach, which was mostly water, threatened to come up. Most people believed he put his sweat and blood in the games, and they were right. They called it conditioning for a reason, and it wasn't unusual to dislocate a finger, slice open a knee, or puke your guts out on the sidelines.

If Coach asked him to get down to a six point—hands, knees, feet, and crouch—he'd probably topple over, he was that tired. But, he'd survived the day and he'd be ready for more on Wednesday.

“Shit, man. I need answers.” McCormick sucked wind down the line from Gary. “Someone has got to get me that girl's phone number.”

Beside him, Yeager answered. “What girl?”

“The new lady with the magic fingers,” McCormick said, grabbing his crotch. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

“Bullshit,” Gary shot back. “Wimping out is more like it. Suck it up, cupcake, season's only beginning.”

He'd heard the talk the last hour. Every single man and half the men already taken eyed Angie any time they got a free second. He couldn't blame them, but he hated it. Deciding to keep his roommate status secret, so to keep everyone away from Angie, he checked himself anytime she was mentioned. If they knew she was a friend of his, and stayed at his place, they'd be stopping by all the time.

He started the long walk back to the other side of the field to grab his bag. All he could think about was going home, sinking down into the hot tub, and crashing for a few hours until he forgot about the exhaustion.

Hell, he couldn't even imagine next week when they actually put their pads on and scrimmaged with the extra weight on his body. He'd survive and be better for it, but every year got tougher, the players younger, bigger, and he was only getting older.

As he reached his bag, took out a towel, and mopped his head off, he kept his eye on Angie. Twenty yards away, she stood talking with John and Benton, the quarterback. Both men laughed at something Angie said, and she smiled, shaking her head in pure happiness. Jealousy sparked inside him. Of course everyone liked her. She was perfect.

But she belonged to him. At least until she found her own place to live.

“Hey, Angie,” he called.

She turned, waved, spoke with John and Benton, then jogged over to him. He hung his towel around his neck. The other guys watched him, and he turned his back to them.

“You ready to go?” he said. “I'm skipping the locker room and heading straight home before I pass out.”

“Yeah. I'm ready.” She picked up his bag with a groan.

His hand closed around hers on the handle. “What are you doing?”

“You're exhausted. I'll carry the bag, and you can concentrate on walking to the car,” she said.

He took the duffle from her. “I can handle it.”

They walked together. Angie glanced at him, fairly bouncing with each step. His body screamed in protest, but he could damn well carry his own bag. He wasn't helpless.

At the car, he tossed his stuff in the back seat, and leaned against the car for a moment to gather his strength. His legs had turned into jelly fifty paces back and his head swam. He needed to hydrate.

She studied him over the roof of the car. “You okay?”

“Beat.” He grinned. “It's like this every year. If I survive the first week, there's a good chance I'll live.”

“Poor baby.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “The big, bad pro football player is tired…”

“I'd walk over there and spank you for that if I could make my feet move.” He shook his head. “Right now, I'll be thankful if I make it to the hot tub.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

For a second, he honestly contemplated letting her slide behind the wheel of his Camaro. “No, once I sit down, I'll be fine.”

A half hour later when he climbed out of the car, he regretted his stubbornness. Every muscle screamed in protest. He would've felt better if he walked the entire distance home and not let his muscles tighten up.

In the kitchen, he peeled off his shirt. In the living room, he toed off his cleats and over exerted himself. Angie or not, he was going to be bare ass naked by the time he hit his bedroom and slipped out the sliding door onto the balcony where the hot tub sat.

“Go ahead and soak.” Angie unzipped his bag. “I'll throw your things in the washing machine and make you a couple of sandwiches to eat. Then you can sleep.”

He nodded, or maybe he didn't. He couldn't be sure, because even that much movement hurt as he dragged his feet across the floor.

Thankfully, he'd known the condition he'd be in when he returned home and earlier had removed the top off the hot tub. All he had to do was climb two steps and ease himself into the water. He stood on the deck, eyeing the steps as if he were a geriatric patient who'd only snapped out of a drug-induced coma an hour ago and had yet to figure out how to move his feet.

Eventually, he made it to the top, heaved his leg over the side, and slid down into the jetted water. His body seized and quickly succumbed to the power of the warmth in blessed relief. He sighed long and loud. At that moment, nothing compared to how he was feeling. Not even sex or winning the Super Bowl felt better.

He let his head fall back on his shoulders and he closed his eyes. His arms half floated out to the sides. All his muscles gave away their tight control and he succumbed to the weightlessness of the water. Only then was he able to breathe without any pain.

Today's practice pushed him, and despite the soreness, being back in the routine that he loved felt good. Angie's presence in his life upset the balance, in a good way, but even thinking hurt when he'd given one hundred and ten percent on the field. But with the season also came the control he needed to keep his head in the game, and hopefully distance himself from Angie.

He thought about Drew and all the phone calls that went unanswered. It wasn't uncommon for it to take days to make a connection. They both lived busy lives, and they were guys. They rarely called to chitchat. If he left a message and told Drew it was important to return his call, he had no doubt Drew would contact him. He just wasn't ready to come clean.

Once he took a snooze, he'd try calling the gas station again. He'd feel out Drew for any sign that he would raise hell if Gary put the moves on Angie. He dunked his head, and came up shaking the water out of his hair. It was going to be a long season if the other players kept on with their fascination over Angie.

“Sit up.” Angie materialized beside him. He hadn't even heard her come out over the noise from the jets in the tub.

She handed him a towel. “Wipe your hands off, and you can eat while you relax.”

“Not very hungry yet.” He took one of the sandwiches off the plate. “But thanks. I know I'll be starving in an hour.”

She climbed up on the step, and perched on the side of the hot tub. Despite the exhaustion and the high temperature of the water, his body hardened instantly.

“Uh, honey, I don't have shorts on.” He popped the last bite into his mouth.

She handed him the second sandwich. “I know.”

To his surprise, she glanced down at the water. Holy shit. She was looking. It took all of his willpower not to stretch out fully or stand up and let her see. He was proud of his body. More importantly, he had the mother lode of all hard-ons, and he wanted to show it off.

“Anybody ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?” he said, trying his best to ignore her.

She laughed softly. “Sure, but I also was told recently that to cross the end zone, you have to put your head down and run, giving it everything you've got.”

“Huh?” He wiped his mouth off with his hand. “What does that mean?”

She rolled her eyes and hopped off the edge of the tub. He watched her close the sliding door and go inside the condo. End zone? Giving it everything?

Fuck. She was talking his language, and he sat here like an idiot.

He pulled himself out of the water, wrapping the towel around his hips, and grabbed his phone from where he'd left it on the lawn chair. Drew better answer the damn phone. He had an emergency on his hands.

If he was going to move forward with Angie and be honest, he needed to talk to Drew first.

The ringing stopped. Drew answered, “Yo.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Gary clutched the ends of the towel.

“Working,” Drew said. “Some of us don't play for gold and diamonds for a living.”

Gary grunted. Now that he had Angie's brother on the phone, he had no idea how to broach the subject.

“Everything okay with Ang?” Drew asked.

“Yeah.” Gary cleared his throat. “She started work today and seems to like it. The players have definitely noticed her.”

Drew cussed. “Assholes.”

“Exactly.” Gary leaned against the railing, peering out into the woodsy area behind the gated community.

“So, what's so important, you filled my voicemail over the weekend?”

Gary blurted, “I've got a problem.”

“What can I do?”

He stooped over and leaned against his elbows. This was why Drew was his best friend. He never questioned, yelled, argued, or bullied. His quiet acceptance and position in his life was to support and back him. He never took that friendship for granted.

“It's not easy living with your sister,” he said.

Drew laughed. “Tell me about it.”

“I'm serious, Drew. I think she's messed up. Something big is going on in her head and making her act crazy.” He rubbed his hand over his face.

“Talk to me,” Drew said, quietly.

He sighed without saying anything. What he and Angie talked about was between the two of them, no one else. There were certain things she probably wouldn't appreciate him saying, especially to her brother. He had to come clean with Drew about his feelings, and leave Angie out of the conversation.

“Your sister's an attractive woman.” He squeezed his eyes shut. God, he sounded like a prick. Attractive didn't begin to describe her. Hot, sexy, luscious, fantasy material…

“Good looks run in the family, man.” Drew laughed.

“I'm serious,” he said. “The guys on the team are noticing. You know your sister; she's going to fall for their bullshit and we'll have more trouble on our hands. With the season going now and her always with the team, massaging them, there will be times I'm not around to protect her.”

Silence.

His chest tightened and he exhaled his held breath. “I'm thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to start a rumor that I'm dating Angie. Hell, she already lives with me, it wouldn't be hard to drop a few hints and let them see her with me.”

Jesus.
He couldn't do it. All he had to do is blurt out the truth that he loved Angie, and he chickened out.

“I just want you to know that it's not the easiest thing having her in my house, in my life twenty-four/seven, in my business,” he said, mouthing
in my bed
.