Slow and Steady Rush (13 page)

“All my tours were in Afghanistan. Sniper. Avery had my back so I could concentrate on my targets.”

“I’m surprised the army didn’t want to keep you once you were stateside.”

“They made an offer.” He speared a bite of chicken parmesan into his mouth, his profile carved in ice.

She studied him, taking absent sips of wine. “Yet, you chose to come to a small town in Alabama to teach math and coach high school football.”

“So?” The sharpness of the single word threw up spikes on the wall between them. He chewed on another bite and swiveled his head away, apparently preferring the curious patrons to her. Silence piled up.

Undeterred, she continued, “It has to be hard being away from your family—where are you from?”

“Tennessee.”

“But, whereabouts?”

“Here and there. I moved around.”

“Is your family still there?”

“Drop it.” He said it like he was giving Avery a command and expected it to be followed. She was no dog.

“Will they come to your first game?”

“What’s the story with your mother?” He fired back.

Her forced laugh masked an old pain, and she hid bitterness underneath her lightly said words. “How can I put it politely? Mama got around. I don’t even know who my daddy is. I doubt Mama even knows.”

He brushed the back of her hand with a finger. It was only then she realized she had fisted the fork like a weapon.

“Did you get teased?” His understanding rumble wiped away her false lightness, leaving in its wake a raw wound no amount of stitches could heal.

It had been fifth grade when boys took outright jabs and girls whispered about her parents. None of them had been brave enough with Logan around, but after he’d moved on to middle school, she was an unprotected gazelle on the playground.

She’d bled from their lewd suggestions about her mama and teasing guesses about her daddy. Kat had developed her cutting courtroom technique defending her, while Darcy had retreated further into her books.

The clog in her throat dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper. “Of course, I did. That’s when I started planning my escape from Falcon.”

“Where’d you want to go?”

“Narnia?” Darcy tried a weak laugh, but it felt out of place. He covered the back of her hand on the table with his, but she flipped it so their fingers knitted together. She stared at their joined hands. He rubbed across the sensitive skin of her wrist with his thumb.

“Your mama still alive?” he asked.

“Haven’t heard otherwise.” She took a too large gulp of her wine. The strong tannic acid made her stomach lurch. “I couldn’t understand at six years old that she was too young and immature to take care of me. I wanted her to be like the other moms. Baking cookies, coming to PTA meetings, helping with my homework. I love Ada, but I wanted normal.”

Her gaze travelled from her wine to his face. He had swallowed the space between them. His every movement flexed a muscle against her. He smelled of pine, clean and outdoorsy. Even more appealing was the comfort in his eyes as if he felt her childhood pain poignantly.

“Do you think I’m a terrible person?” The pressure in her chest grew.

“Of course not. The things you’ve done for Ada, for Logan … the three of you were lucky to have each other to hang onto.”

The childhood pain she’d carried around, nurtured even, withered under the intensity surrounding them. Unspoken words made their way from his eyes to her heart.
I understand because I hurt too.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him and squeeze the radiating pain out of him. Could he see that in her eyes?

He pulled his hand from hers and fiddled with his fork. “What do you think of the team so far?”

She took a deep breath. Football was safe, and maybe they both needed safe. The tension ebbed as the talk moved to quarterbacks and play calling. She even managed a few bites of food before pushing her plate away.

Tyler cleared the table, as impersonal as if they were strangers, and left the check. She pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Here, let me pay since this debacle is my fault.”

“No. The man pays on a date.”

“But, it’s not a real date, is it? Let’s at least go halfsies.”

His eyes narrowed, and his gruff voice reflected frustration. “Don’t argue with me. I’m paying.” He slapped down some bills and slid out of the booth.

Her anemic smile was for the spectators. He opened the restaurant door and gestured her through. With her eyes on the ground, she took two steps and bumped into a warm body. Hands grabbed at her upper arms.

“So sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she said as the man used her to regain his balance.

“Darcy? I heard you were back.”

“Wolf?” She tilted her head back. Soft hazel eyes crinkled with his grin. His dark hair was longer than it had been in high school and curled over his forehead and at his nape. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tight. “How’re you doing? I thought you’d moved out west somewhere.”

His eyes clouded, and his smile faltered. “I did. I’m back now though. Got a job as an EMT, but I’m woodworking on the side.”

She stepped back and half-turned toward Robbie. His cutting gaze scissored her hands off Wolf’s arms, and she weaved her fingers together behind her back.

“Robbie, do you know Jon Wolfenbarger? We went to high school together. He was my prom date.” Why had she added that last factoid? Not that it should matter considering it was nearly a decade in the past, and they were on a fake date, but Robbie looked ready to punch something or somebody.

The two men shook hands. Jon politely extricated himself, but not before raising an eyebrow and sending her a smirk on his way inside the restaurant.

Robbie opened the truck door and helped her in before sliding behind the wheel. He started the truck and revved the engine. Urgency made her stomach jump. In the near darkness, the seatbelt became a complex puzzle, one she couldn’t fit together with clumsy fingers.

He twisted in his seat and grabbed the buckle to click it home. His hair brushed her cheek, and he whispered close to her ear. “Was Jon your boyfriend or what?

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. He took me to prom because I helped him with an essay for English. He felt sorry for me.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t have any boyfriends in high school.”

His cheek coasted by hers, the spicy, clean scent of his shampoo wrapping around her. “Why not?”

She took a deep breath, barely stopping herself from pressing her face into his neck. “I was a nerd. A geek. Not athletic in a town that values sports above all else.”

He pulled back to look at her. Dim light from the street permeated the interior. Her confusion escalated when the mouth she stared at moved closer.

The tempest she’d seen behind his eyes earlier wasn’t reflected in his kiss. The kiss was gentle, sensual, and devastating. A flash of the one they’d shared in Ada’s kitchen. His tongue flicked at her lips, and she opened. Her hand crawled to his bicep, clutching and tugging him closer. He cupped her nape, his fingers massaging. The heat of his body ignited an answering flare between her legs.

His face lifted, and her eyes fluttered open. She wanted more—so much more.

“There. That should satisfy the masses.” His words didn’t make sense until she looked out the windshield to see a half-dozen faces staring through the glass window of the restaurant. Tyler was center among them, his mouth agape.

Her eyes stung with humiliated tears. A deep breath kept them in check.

“Quit mauling me.” She shoved at the hand still caressing her jaw.

He retreated and squeezed the steering wheel before reversing. He didn’t say another word, and neither did she. He stopped in front of Ada’s and made a move to help her out, but she hopped out and slammed the door shut, rocking the truck. The care she had to take on the gravel in her heels muted her huffy stalk. His truck stood sentinel until she let herself in the front door. She twitched a drape to the side and watched his taillights disappear.

“How was your date?”

“For the love of—you scared me. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Darcy hung onto the drape, her heart pounding. Ada had crept up behind her, walker and all.

“I’m not a ten-year-old. I can party all night if I want. Anyway, it’s not even eight.”

Darcy glanced at the grandfather clock. The ebb and flow of tension during dinner and in the truck had left her exhausted. The soft hum of the radio and running water came from the kitchen. She kicked off her heels and led her grandmother back into the den, settling her into the hospital bed.

“How did your date go?” Ada asked again, seemingly casual, but her blue eyes pierced.

“It wasn’t a real date,” she said for the thousandth time. “We churned up new rumors. Next week, we’ll cement them.”

“Why do you sound so depressed about it?”

“Try mad as a hornet. That man is aggravating. I don’t understand him.”

“He’s probably telling Avery the same thing about you.” Ada chuckled.

“Did you know he went to Vandy?”

“Of course. He still holds the school record for tackles in a single season.”

“He didn’t mention that.” Any other man would have bragged about their accomplishments. She’d given him the perfect opportunity. Instead, he’d disparaged his collegiate experience.

“Dalt is rather too self-effacing.” Ada opened her book, her concentration transferred to the page.

After kissing Ada on the cheek, Darcy headed to the kitchen. Kat washed plates at the sink in rhythm to the rock song that played.

“Ada give you any trouble?” Darcy asked.

“She schooled me playing gin and crazy eights.” Kat turned with a smile and dried her hands on a dishtowel. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”

Darcy collapsed in a kitchen chair and rested her arms and head on the table.

“Went that well, did it?”

“Like walking on broken glass or hot coals or a bed of nails—”

“I get the picture. It’s temporary. Suck it up.”

“I know. Only for a couple of weeks,” Darcy whispered. She traced fingers over lips still tingling from his kiss.

After seeing Kat off and tucking Ada in, she took the steps to her room slowly. Robbie had worn her out, and their next date would likely prove just as stressful. Yet under the anxiety and embarrassment, fake or not, she hoped he would kiss her again.

Chapter 9

Every day, Darcy’s life got more tangled up in the fabric of town. She still played nursemaid when needed, but her grandmother required less and less help. They rediscovered the joys of cooking and baking together. Darcy soaked up Ada’s stories like the moistest of rum cakes, stories she had been unable to appreciate in her youth.

Ada guilted her into volunteering at the library, but the enjoyment of the people and books stifled the sense of obligation. Then, most evenings, she covered a chapter or two with the team. She cursed the flutter in her stomach as she checked out the window for Robbie’s truck, but he never made an appearance.

On her way to meet Kat for lunch early the next week, she spotted him in conversation in front of the bank and quickened her step toward him. They did have parts to play, after all, but the blasted man actually crossed the street to avoid her. His baseball cap obscured any hint as to his feelings while she’d felt like a fool with a smile plastered on her face and a hand raised in greeting.

She accompanied Kat to practice that afternoon anyway. It certainly wasn’t to see him but to check on her boys. They waved and catcalled to her in the bleachers. She called out taunts and encouragements but quieted down when she noticed Robbie frowning in her direction.

The man who’d been constantly on her mind taught his defense how to stop the run. His ripped white T-shirt induced fantasies of continuing the work until it lay shredded on the ground. She crossed and recrossed her legs.

A plump black woman clutching a patent leather red pocketbook sidled over. “Are you the lady Miles has been going on about? Miss Darcy?”

“That’s me. You can’t be Miles’ grandmother, you’re too young.” Darcy studied the woman’s unlined face.

The woman cackled good-naturedly, her yellowed teeth the only testament to her age. “Gemmalee’s my name. I surely do appreciate you tutoring the boys. It’s a shame, but several of them struggle with reading still, and Coach is a stickler for good grades.”

“That’s what the boys say,” Darcy said, her gaze drawn back to Robbie. He was in a three-point stance, demonstrating to his linebackers the meaning of explosive power.

“Now, listen here, young lady, you’re going to come over for dinner one night. It’s the least we can do to repay your kindness.”

Darcy dragged her attention away from Robbie. “It wasn’t completely selfless. Did Miles tell you I expect them to paint my porch?”

Another laugh accompanied the slap of her knee. “Good. Those boys have everything come too easy in Falcon, especially this season. Everyone has a lot of hope Coach Dalton can win.”

“What if he can’t? What then?”

“Don’t know. These folks aren’t too patient.” Gemmalee jerked her head toward the contingent of mostly white men hanging over the fence. “And, they don’t have anything but football to occupy them. If that’s not bad enough, vile rumors have been circulating.”

Darcy bit the inside of her mouth. The pain didn’t offer a smidge of absolution. “They’re not true. Maybe you could spread the word.”

“Already been doing it. But the truth is less exciting. People like to be shocked.” Gemmalee shrugged a wise shoulder. “Someone should horsewhip whoever was mean enough to start it.”

“They certainly deserve it.” Darcy rubbed her nape.

A long whistle signaled the end of practice and her self-flagellation. The boys trotted off the field, and Darcy made her way to Kat who watched Laurence Malone, the handsome black assistant coach, jog toward the practice pavilion with a goofy grin on her face. They fell into step, heading toward Main Street.

“What are your plans?” Kat asked.

“Library then the grocery. I swear those boys are like a plague of locusts. This will be the third time in five days I’ve had to shop. And, my free labor hasn’t even materialized.”