Slow and Steady Rush (20 page)

He’d seen her body, touched it, licked it, entered it. Her body was a mystery no more. She needed to let go of the sheet. Her numb fingers finally opened and made a grab for her bra. Keeping her head down, she fought the bra clasp, finally latching it and pulling the straps over her shoulders. Panties next.

She stole a glance at Robbie. He’d pulled on boxer briefs and dark green pants. He watched her watch him, a smile tugging at his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded and sensuous. Before she could reign herself in, her gaze trailed over his chest, the blond hair shining in the sunlight.

He plucked the black scrap of cloth from the knob and rubbed it between his fingers. “Here you go.”

She caught her panties but didn’t tug them on until he’d pulled a black T-shirt over his head, covering his chest and breaking the spell he’d cast over her.

Panties in place, she darted out of his bedroom. Avery shot outside when she opened the front door. Her shorts lay puddled by the column, and her shirt hung from an azalea. Her phone was still in her pocket, and thankfully there were no messages from Ada or Logan. It was seven thirty.

Now what? Did she go back inside and thank him for showing her a good time? Did she set out for home? As she waffled with the decision, he joined her on the porch. “Look, I have to go. Jake found another sounder of pigs.”

“I gathered as much. I need to head back to Tuscaloosa to check on Ada anyway.”

“When will you be back?”

Through her lashes, she studied him. He scratched his nape and bit his lip. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he felt as awkward about the situation as she did. “Does it matter?”

His arms dropped to his sides. “Last night was … I’m not sure … I’ll text you. We can figure out a time to hook up again.”

“So, I should wait for your booty text?” As crass as it sounded, the thought of exchanging some racy texts turned her on.

His laugh was rueful, but a glint of excitement animated his face. “Something like that. Wait a sec and I’ll give you a lift home.”

He jogged down the steps to his detached garage and rolled out the four-wheeler, throwing his leg over.

She mounted behind him, curling her body around his. The memory of his weight falling on top of her after his orgasm had her tightening her arms around his chest and her legs around his hips.

They shot off down the lane, the trip too short in the daylight. After he rolled to a stop, she swung off and faced him, tucking her messy bed hair behind her ears.

She hummed and focused on the woods over his right shoulder. “Thanks for last night.”

He circled her wrist and tugged her forward. After brushing his lips over hers, he said, “No, thank you, sweetheart.”

He rumbled away, toward the bridge over the river. She stared long after he was out sight and bird song muffled the growl of the machine.

She spent the week with Ada in Tuscaloosa, sleeping on a cot. Although, sleeping was an overstatement. Doctors and nurses bustling in with their scheduled checks interrupted her all-too-brief dozes.

She composed a few sexy texts but chickened out before hitting the ominous, red send button. Instead, their texts were mundane and brief, mostly about football and Ada.

Finally, the doctors gave the go-ahead to move Ada to the rehabilitation center in Falcon. Darcy got Ada settled in her new room that Saturday afternoon. Darcy was sweaty, tired, and drooping like a willow tree. She couldn’t ever remember being so exhausted.

The team was headed out of Falcon for a rare Saturday night jamboree game, and she’d let Logan off the hook. After all, he’d done the same for her when Ada got out of the hospital the first time.

The rap on the door startled them both. Robbie’s head popped around the side.

The move out of the hospital had invigorated Ada. “Well, I’ll be. Come in here, young man.”

Removing his cap, he slipped in the door wearing crisp khakis and a Falcon High School navy blue polo.

Stealing a sidelong glance at herself in the mirror, Darcy rubbed color into her wan face and raked fingers through her lank hair. “Logan just left. You might be able to catch him.”

“I know. I didn’t … I wanted to check on the two of you.” He fiddled with the brim of his cap.

“How’s the team looking for tonight’s game?” Ada asked.

“Strong. How’re you feeling, ma’am?” On his way to pay respects to Ada, he skimmed his gaze down Darcy’s body and back to her face. Crinkles deepened around his eyes.

Why did he have to see her looking like hell warmed over? Finding an elastic holder in her pocket, she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail.

“I hope to be home again soon, but this place is better than that hospital in Tuscaloosa. Sleep was hard to come by there, wasn’t it, Darcy?”

As if it wasn’t obvious by the circles under her eyes. “Not easy,” she mumbled.

“You going to stay at the house?” he asked her.

“Yes.” She drew the word out with equal amounts relief and longing.

“I’ll check on you both tomorrow. We’re loading the buses now.” The tense set of his jaw hinted at more to say. He tangled her in the blue of his eyes. What she wanted more than anything was to walk into his arms, rest against the solidness of his chest, and steal his strength.

Ada said, “We’ll listen to the game on the radio. Do us proud, Dalt.”

“I’ll surely try, ma’am.”

Then, he was gone, along with whatever energy Darcy had left.

After a few beats of silence, Ada said, “Well, well, what’s happening between the two of you?”

As honestly as she could, Darcy said, “Nothing serious. We’re having fun.”

Ada’s delicate eyebrows arched. “Fun? Yep, the two of you were really yukking it up.”

“What are you insinuating?”

Ada’s puffed-up smile had Darcy wondering, but her mind was mired in molasses, unable to nimbly question her grandmother. Ada shooed her home long before the game got underway. Darcy stumbled from the shower and fell into her bed with wet hair and the sun still shining.

Chapter 15

Robbie climbed off the team bus wanting nothing more than to wash the sticky energy drink out of his hair and off his skin. The win felt phenomenal. The soaking from his players? Not so much. Avery had licked his hands clean on the bus ride home, leaving him smelling of limes and doggy breath. The sight of Sheila in the parking lot dented the euphoria of the win and the satisfaction of knowing Darcy was within city limits. Logan shot him a commiserating wince.

Her hips swayed, her blue wrap dress a size too small and split to her upper thigh. Her braless tits bounced with each step. Several of his players stared over their shoulders at her ass. Zits were probably rising like volcanoes from the sudden onslaught of testosterone.

Sheila’s lush beauty took work whereas Darcy’s was effortless. Robbie’s truck sat halfway down the parking lot. The sound of engines and raucous laughter filled the night air. He had about ten minutes to stage an escape.

“Nice game, Coach.”

“The boys played hard tonight. It was a solid win for our program.” He spouted the standard media answer.

She paced him all the way to his truck and cornered him on the driver’s side, away from the prying eyes of the team. Her shoulders shimmied, and her breasts drew his gaze. Was she planning to jump him right there in the parking lot?

“I think you deserve a bonus. Would you like a bonus?” She ran a hand up and down the edge of the dress and fingered the tie.

“All I want at the moment is a shower,” he said truthfully.

“I happen to have one of those at home.” She tugged at the rope of cloth standing between her and the night air.

It conceded silently. The strained cloth sprang apart to reveal an entirely naked Sheila. She shook her hair over her shoulders and skimmed her hands over her breasts and hips.

He looked. It was a naked woman, after all, but not a whisper of temptation or desire sounded in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me. In your truck, on the grass, at your place, my place. I don’t care.”

“It’s late, and I—”

“We could be good together, Dalt.” A single pink-tipped finger traced down his shirt to circle his pec and flick at his nipple.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested.” He sidestepped around her, but she clutched his arm. Pointy nails dug into his skin.

With a childish foot stomp, she said, “It’s Darcy, isn’t it? What do you want with that little slut?”

Anger burned through his body. Darcy wasn’t the slut in this equation. He tossed his duffle in the truck bed and opened the door for Avery to hop inside the cab. Best to ignore her.

“She’s like her mama. Can’t keep her legs closed. Ask her who her daddy is. Betcha she can’t even narrow it down to ten men.”

“I don’t care.”

In equal parts desperation and satisfaction, she said, “Rick’s been screwing her since the night she got home. And Ryan and Ethan said they had a three-way.”

Robbie turned to face her. She fumbled with the tie, the edges of her dress barely pulled together. Any semblance of kindness or decency had been stripped off her face to reveal self-loathing and dissatisfaction. Strangely, though, the ugliness humanized her. He understood something about self-loathing.

“None of that’s true. What’ve you got against her?”

“She always acted like she was too good for this place. What right does she have to sweep in now and act like a queen bee?”

“What happened between you and James wasn’t fair, but you’re better than this. Move on.” Although the words were harsh, pity superseded his earlier anger. Sheila had sat on the throne in the small empire of Falcon for a long time. Everything that had been handed to her was crumbling like a sand castle in the rising tide.

His advice got lost in her resentment. A flurry of movement foretold her actions, and he forced himself still as her hand flew. Her stiff retreat was a mockery of her earlier sensual display.

Rubbing at his stinging cheek, he slid behind the wheel with a sigh. The closer he drew to the familiar washed-out lane, the looser the cords binding his chest became. Several lights burned at Miss Ada’s. Was Darcy still up? She’d looked exhausted and at the end of her tether that afternoon. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms and ease her troubles. But, that would have hardly seemed casual.

The trouble was he didn’t feel casual around her. In fact, he’d tamped down the intensity of his feelings after they’d had sex, afraid he’d scare her. There was no way in hell he would’ve let her escape his bed that night. The feel of her soft skin and curves soothed the beasts that prowled his dreams. He couldn’t remember ever having slept so well.

After a quick shower, he debated his move, as nervous as one of his teenage players. Actually, most of his team probably had more experience doing boyfriend-type things. Jesus, he had to be careful thinking of himself that way. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was her booty call.

He threw together a bag of food knowing she probably hadn’t had energy to hit The Pig. Granted, the box of condoms he tossed on top might have gone a bit beyond neighborly.

With Avery at his feet, he walked through the dark night. When she didn’t answer his knock, he let himself into the kitchen. He left his shoes at the door and padded through the house, the only noise the click of Avery’s nails on the wood floor. As he confirmed the emptiness of each room, he flicked the lights off. He found her facedown on top of her covers, the overhead light still on. The fan made a slight thump with every turn.

The frayed pink T-shirt she wore rode up to reveal tiny white cotton panties. He swallowed. Her ass was perfection, her hair a tangled, dark mass against the white pillow. She looked young and fresh and infinitely more desirable than Sheila. He covered her with a quilt, and she stirred, curling on her side and tucking her hands under her cheek. Unfamiliar, tender emotions swamped him.

For the second time, he settled himself on the couch, too exhausted to mind the lumps.

Beams of sunlight woke him. Dancing dust motes came into blinking focus. A lax contentment kept him under the ancient blanket. A ticking clock, the trill of birds, a dog’s soft whine.

He reluctantly left his cocoon. Avery jetted out the kitchen door and gave the rose trellis a long, healthy watering. Relieved, he bounced around the yard and snapped at the dry, blowing leaves. His dog’s infectious joy even in the face of his disability made Robbie smile.

He tiptoed up the stairs, avoiding the creaky step, and peeked in her cracked door. She was sprawled spread-eagle across the bed. A pillow obscured everything but her chin. He wanted to wake her with a kiss … and maybe more. Damn, he’d left the condoms downstairs.

Considering he’d snuck in her house last night, slept on her couch, and stared at her unawares in bed, she might accuse him of being the creepiest motherfucker on the planet. If he left now, she’d never know he’d even been there. He backed out of her room like a thief.

He let Avery back inside. The dog bounced to the refrigerator and looked over his shoulder. “Breakfast? You think?”

Avery yipped and licked his muzzle. Maybe his dog’s instincts were better than his.

After finding bacon and pancake mix, he rummaged for pans. Even after reading the instructions twice, the batter seemed too thick and lumpy. A dishtowel covered with brown and orange flowers protected his hand as he scraped under pancakes to flip them.

“Mother—” He cursed the blackened side of the pancakes and tossed the towel on the counter. Bacon popped hot grease on his unprotected arm. He released another torrent of curses.

“What’s going on in here?” She stood in the doorway and rubbed at still-tired eyes. “Bed head” was an understatement. One side lay too flat while the other swirled with tangles and frizz.

His stomach lurched, and he ran his hands down the front of his jeans. Dammit, he was pathetically nervous. “I’m—well I
was
—making you breakfast. I burned the pancakes.”

“The bacon is meeting the same sad fate.” She pointed toward the stove.

He whirled. Hot grease bubbled around overly crispy strips. He wrapped the handle with the dishtowel and moved the skillet off the red eye.