Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance) (10 page)

“Actually, I can. Turns out, I’m very skilled at opening a door and walking through. I also possess the amazing ability to lock it. Which I did.”

She approached one of the sinks and turned on the water. “How did you find me?” There was something a little too intimate about rinsing her mouth and splashing water on her face in front of Nathan, but there was no way around it.

“I followed your bloody footprints.” He pointed to the floor where there were, indeed, spots of blood. “Here.” He lifted her by the waist, sat her on the counter, and wet a paper towel. She had no energy to stop him.

“I guess I cut my foot.” He pressed the warm towel to her wound. “Ouch!”

“I told you not to wear shoes that won’t take you where you need to go.”

So the bickering had begun. Might as well stop it the only way she could — admit he was right. “Go ahead. Say it. I know this was my fault. I’m not capable of taking care of him. I almost let him get killed.”

“Actually — ” Nathan wet a fresh towel and proceeded to wash her other foot, though it wasn’t hurt “ — this was not your fault. It was the fault of the woman who pulled out in front of Tim Jenkins.”

“Tim was driving? Is he okay? What happened?”

“Everybody’s basically fine. A little banged up. After they cleaned the stadium this morning and watched film, Kirby, Tim, and Jack Randolph were on their way to get something to eat out by the mall. A woman talking on her cell phone ran a red light. It could have been worse. There.” He threw the towel away.

“Thanks.”

“Sit tight.” Nathan took off his running shoes and then his socks.

“What are you doing?”

“Your feet are cold.” He put his socks on her and then crammed his feet back into his shoes. His socks were still warm from his feet. They felt good.

“I guess I’d better see about getting Kirby out of here,” she said.

“Not to mention that there are probably seventeen women lined up out there who need to pee.”

When he helped her down from the counter, he left his hands on her waist for the barest second — just long enough to make her revel in the warmth of his hands. And then someone pounded on the door and the moment was over.

After talking with the doctor and taking care of paperwork, Tolly found Kirby and Nathan in the waiting room among about thirty teenagers and parents who had gathered after hearing about the wreck. Nathan was holding her shoes and talking to Jack Randolph’s parents.

Jamie Fisher, with tears streaming, was trying hard to get Nathan’s attention. Tolly couldn’t mention her suspicions to Nathan again but she could break this up.

She stepped in front of Jamie and smiled at the Randolphs. “Karen. Jackson. I’m so glad Jack is all right.”

Karen gave her a hug. “We’re all very lucky.”

“We are that.” She turned to Nathan. “The doctor wrote Kirby a prescription for some pain medication. Would you mind going by the pharmacy for me, so I can take Kirby straight home?”

“Sure thing.” He exchanged her shoes for the prescription, oblivious to Jamie who was scowling at Tolly. “Anything else?” he asked as the three of them made their way toward the door.

“Maybe go by the diner and see if Lou Anne has any fried chicken and pecan pie.”

“All right!” Kirby pumped the air. “Peach cobbler would be just about as good.”

As Nathan walked away from them muttering something about “spoiled rotten quarterbacks,” Tolly realized that in the space of three hours, she’d asked Nathan for help with Kirby three times and he had washed her feet.

Not good.

What the hell had come over him? Nathan threw the bag from the pharmacy on the seat of his truck and drove the two blocks to the diner. Admittedly, it had shaken him when Rayford Stumps called with the news that three of his players had been in a wreck, but by the time Townshend got to the hospital, he’d recovered.

And what was with her? When she’d rushed into the ER cubical frazzled, he had softened a little at seeing her in such a panic. Even barefoot with her hair flying out of the little bun she wore when she was at work, she looked classy. And beautiful. Then without warning, she’d reverted to her icy, uncaring self and he’d followed her to tell her to get her butt back in that room and be a grownup. Paperwork and peeing could wait. Kirby was putting on a good show, but he was shaken up.

Then he’d waited and waited outside the restroom door until he decided he wouldn’t wait anymore. She was probably in there fixing hair and putting on makeup when she ought to be taking Kirby home. He had a whole head-full of steamy anger until he heard her crying.

Crying. He hated it. Criers did not move him. They annoyed him. But Townshend wasn’t a crier for the sake of it. She hadn’t even cried that day in his hospital room when he’d been so cruel, when he’d
tried
to make her cry, but here she was, nigh on hysterical. And clearly she hadn’t meant for anyone to know.

And what was that foot washing and sock swapping about? Was he crazy? Clearly, because he’d walked out of that hospital with Townshend and Kirby like they were a happy little family of three. And now he was collecting up medicine and fried chicken like some sort of personal assistant to Townshend Harris Lee.

Seven ought not to even be eating fried food. But had he said that? No!
Yes, ma’am. Absolutely. I’ll get it. Anything else?

Damn, he hated himself. He needed to get laid.

• • •

Nathan parked in front of Caroline Brantley’s house and started around the path toward the carriage house. Get in. Get out. Make it quick. No more forgetting who he was. No more forgetting who
she
was.

“What’s all this?” Townshend asked as he set the gargantuan box of food on the kitchen counter.

“Food. Lou Anne sent it. I don’t like Seven eating like this.”

“We’ve done really well, Nathan. Stuck right to the plan. Let’s let him have what he wants the rest of the weekend.”

That wasn’t unreasonable, but he wasn’t going to say so. He made a noise that meant nothing, but Townshend didn’t seem to notice.

“Goodness. This is enough for an army. Or a football team.”

“That’s pretty much what Lou Anne predicts you’ll have on your hands tomorrow.”

“That would be nothing new.” She took the top off the squash casserole and sniffed. “I love this.”

He took the pharmacy sack from his pocket. “Here are the meds. They put it on your bill.”

“Good.” She unwrapped the chicken. “Oh, yum.”

“Where’s Seven?”

“Changing into sweat clothes. He’ll be right down.”

“Tell him I said to rest up.” He moved toward the door.

“Nathan?” she said tentatively.

“What?”

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

“I can’t,” he said almost a little too quickly. “I’ve got a date.” It was a lie. All these years he’d taken pride in the fact that he had never lied to her and now that was gone.

Her face fell and his gut turned over. Not that he cared. “Oh well, then. Have a good time. And thank you.”

As he walked toward his truck, he scrolled through the numbers in his phone. He could make that lie true. He just had to decide with whom.

• • •

Nathan took another sip of his bourbon and looked across the table at sleek, pretty Audrey Evans. He’d chosen her not just because she was one of the first names to come up alphabetically in his phone, but because she loved to drive fast and he knew she would be happy to make the forty-five minute trip from Birmingham to see him. He’d barely had time to shower and change the sheets on his bed before she called to say she’d just passed the Merritt City Limits sign.

Audrey twined her pearls around her conservatively manicured fingers. “I never figured you for the country club type, angel.”

He winched at the name. “I’m not. They gave me a lifetime membership here when I took the job as head coach.” He never used the club for anything, except an occasional game of golf. They had decent workout equipment, but not as good as Merritt High’s. But tonight it was either dinner here or a chain out by the mall, which was not Audrey’s style at all. He knocked back the rest of his drink and signaled for another. “I haven’t been the Angel in a long time. Please don’t call me that.”

Audrey smoothed back her pale blond hair and raised her wine glass to her lips. Though he hadn’t known her then, she’d been a freshman at Alabama in his heyday. Now she was a sportscaster at one of the Birmingham stations. Her goal was to work for ESPN and she’d probably make it. He’d met her last January at the press conference where it was announced that he was the new Merritt Bobcat head coach.

“Maybe I meant it as a term of endearment.” Maybe, but he doubted it.

“Then pick another one.” He took a bite of his steak and watched her slide a bit of asparagus into her mouth.

“What?” She smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Precious? Stud? Luscious?”

That grated against him, though it shouldn’t have. She was joking and trying to be charming — something she hadn’t seen much of from him tonight.

He forced a smile. “I lean more in the direction of Cupcake or Twinkie.”

She laughed with a little too much pleasure, clearly relieved he’d decided not to be a bastard — at least for a moment. “I’ll take those under consideration. You
are
tasty. Though I admit, I was wondering if I was ever going to get another serving.”

So there it was — the dig. He hadn’t returned Audrey’s calls in months. He hadn’t seen her since last spring, right after Lanie Heaven told him she wasn’t going to be his pretend girlfriend anymore, that she was going to start dating Luke Avery. At the time, when he and Lanie had started deceiving the citizens of Merritt, Nathan told himself it was because Missy Bragg had been so relentless in her matchmaking that he wanted her to think it had worked out so she’d leave him alone. But maybe he’d hoped that dating Townshend’s best friend would hurt her. If it had, she’d never shown any signs.

Speak of the devil, Missy and Harris Bragg entered the dining room.

“So how goes the season?” Audrey asked.

He suspected she knew, but he answered anyway. “Five wins, three losses. And I expect to win the last two. We should have lost two of the wins and won one of the losses. No playoffs for us this year, but, all in all, I’m satisfied for a rebuilding season.”

“How’s the climate?”

She wasn’t talking about the weather. This was sports talk for how the people of Merritt were reacting to the season.

“Pretty good. They had only won five games in the last three years, but this town is accustomed to state championships. Most of them realize I am going to produce that, but it’s unrealistic to expect it this year. Of course, there are the few who can’t be pleased.”

“You always have that,” she said sympathetically.

“Yeah.” He took another sip of his drink.

“How’s your steak?” Audrey asked.

“Fine. Your pasta?”

“Good.”

He could see over Audrey’s shoulder that Missy and Harris were glad-handing their way across the room and this table was their next stop.

“Hey, y’all!” Missy called.

Nathan got to his feet and was about to introduce Audrey when Harris put his arm around Audrey from behind and kissed the top of her head. Apparently they knew each other.

“Are you all right, brat? After what happened today?” Harris said to Audrey.

What?

Audrey’s mouth flew open and she turned to look at Harris, who jumped back like he’d been scalded. Missy’s eyes widened with surprise.

“I am sorry.” Harris put his hands in the air. And was he blushing? Yes, it was that same Townshend apricot blush, though he’d never seen it on Harris before. “Please forgive me. I thought — that is, you look like someone else from behind.”

Like someone else from behind?
Pale, straight blond hair, petite stature, expensive dress, the way she held her shoulders. Of course. Why had he not seen it? Or had he?

Audrey was on her feet now, laughing with Harris and Missy. They had all recovered and introduced themselves — with no help from Nathan. Audrey was delighted to meet another former football star and was, even now, exchanging business cards with him and extracting a promise of an interview for her popular “Where are they now?” series.

Finally Harris and Missy moved on and Nathan and Audrey settled in their seats again. “Well, that was funny!” She took a bite of her pasta.

“Hilarious,” Nathan agreed.

“And to think I got an interview out of it. Nathan, you know what would make it even better?”

“I told you before. No interview. So, if that’s why you’re here — ”

“You know it’s not.”

He did know that but he said, “I’m not so sure.”

“Then let’s go,” she said softly. “I’ll show you.”

And she would. She had before. But he just couldn’t. What if he looked into brown eyes expecting to see blue gray ones?

He had loved Townshend’s eyes. They didn’t beckon you from across the room like neon. In fact, it could be said they were nondescript, but only by someone who had not seen them close up. That was the thing he liked best about her eyes — they were a private show. Only someone who had been allowed close enough to smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her skin and silkiness of her hair got to know how amazing they were. Bright blue and silver mosaic — sapphires with little diamond points, backlit by stars. What he
didn’t
like was the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one in the universe who had been treated to a peek at Townshend Lee’s magic kaleidoscope eyes. He wondered how many there had been, how many bullets it would take to kill them.

The refection of Audrey’s wine glass brought him back from the hell of another Townshend Harris Lee memory. Audrey was smiling over that glass. Tilting her head, imploring him to follow her. He should.

“Audrey, you are a beautiful woman but I need to watch game film. If it wasn’t football season — ”

“This story would end the same.” She put her glass down, folded her napkin, and put it by her plate. “Look, Nathan, I like you and I’ve tried. But it’s time you deleted my number. I’m going to delete yours.” She stood up and he followed suit.