Slow and Steady Rush (7 page)

“My brother never pretended to be anything but what he was. Soon as he saved enough money, he left.” Kat took another long pull on her Coke until she hit ice. “Let me get this right. Coach Dalton said, ‘I’m gay.’”

Darcy rubbed her forehead. “Well, not in so many words—”

The squeak of the bathroom door froze them. Kat put a finger to her lips and popped her head around the side. “Shitfire. Margie’s hot-footing it back to the bleachers.”

“Do you think she heard us?” Darcy crouched and stuck her head below Kat’s to watch the women.

“Is everyone pulling out phones?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Kat turned to face Darcy. “What does ‘not in so many words’ mean?”

“Logan insinuated he was gay, and then Robbie said Avery was waiting for him and that Avery wasn’t a girl. He talked about Avery like he was really special. It was humbling.”

Kat’s face waged a battle between laughter and horror. “Avery? You think Avery is Dalt’s gay lover?”

With her stomach crushed somewhere beneath her feet, Darcy wiped at sweat that wasn’t caused by the heat. Her underarms grew damp. “Who the hell is Avery?”

The hand over her mouth distorted Kat’s words, and Darcy wasn’t sure if she was trying to stem laughter or a horrified gasp. “He’s on the field.”

“He’s here?”

“He’s never too far away.” Kat jerked her head toward the cacophony of yells and grunts and crashing helmets.

Darcy left the shelter of the restrooms to scan the field. An occasional glance was fired over a shoulder from the bleachers, but no one acted like they had the choicest piece of gossip to hit the town in years between their teeth. “Is it the running back coach?”

“Nope. That’s Laurence Malone. Think shorter and hairier and with three-legs.”

“Three-legs …” Her gaze settled on the dog. “No,” she repeated over and over. “The dog? The freaking dog? That’s Avery?”

Darcy dropped into a squat and wrapped her arms around knees, rocking back and forth. Along with the blanket of guilt, embarrassment, and shame came a stab of relief. She pushed herself back up as if she were the one with two broken hips. “Should I go make an announcement? Apologize publically?”

Kat paced and fiddled with the ends of her scarf. “This is tough. What if Margie didn’t hear anything? If you go over and announce Dalt isn’t gay, it’s going to raise all sorts of unnecessary questions. Any rumors about him will spread like kudzu.”

“Maybe I should wait it out. If Margie heard, then we’ll hear and I can …” She gnawed the inside of her mouth. What kind of damage control could she implement at that point?

“Have sex with Dalt? Preferably with witnesses? Halftime at the first home game on the fifty-yard line would do it.”

“Very funny. Not helping, Kat.” There was no reason for Kat to know how alluring Darcy found the possibility. But now she knew Robbie wasn’t gay, other questions arose. Why hadn’t he made a move in his truck … or her bedroom, for that matter? Was he that much of a gentleman? Which only made him even more attractive, dammit to hell. Or was he not interested?

Clanging metal and an increased buzz of voices filled the air. The bleachers were clearing of women, and the boys were running back into the football pavilion. Too late now to do anything. She rubbed at the lump in her throat. Rumors could be dangerous, hurtful things. Once spread, they lived and breathed and destroyed.

Kat checked her watch. “I’ve got a land transfer to file. I’ll be over sometime this weekend to see Ada. Mama and Daddy are expecting you for a visit. You’d better make it this week or you know Mama will get her feelings hurt.”

They walked in silence to the door of Kat’s law office. Her sweet-smelling hug imparted a small amount of comfort. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Darcy trudged back to her car. Her headache was back, acerbated by the smashing heat. The pantry still needed stocking. Her guilt went into overdrive. What said “I’m sorry for thinking you’re something you’re not”? A German chocolate cake? Peach cobbler? Banana pudding?

Chapter 5

“Dude …” Logan drew out the innocuous greeting, imbuing it with a wealth of questions. He took a seat across from Robbie’s desk in the football pavilion and settled his hands on spread knees.

Christ, had Logan divined the confused, lustful thoughts Robbie had entertained about his cousin? He’d seen Darcy in the bleachers. Normally, he tuned out the buzz of female chatter and laughter during his practices. He lasered his attention on conditioning the team for their first game, but his gaze had darted to her more times than he cared to admit. Her swinging ponytail, T-shirt, and shorts were in sharp contrast to the rest of the bleacher babes.

His stoicism had turned him an unwilling challenge for every unattached female in Falcon—and even some of the married ones. Football practice had become a minefield of lipstick, short skirts, and cleavage.

Logan was his best friend—outside of Avery. Did he believe Robbie had taken advantage of Darcy? Robbie’s anxiety grew to fill the silence. He broke. “Nothing happened with Darcy last night. I didn’t touch her.”

Not for lack of wanting to
, he failed to add.

“Obviously.” Logan chuffed and gestured from Robbie’s head to his toes.

“She was buzzed, and I—wait, why ‘obviously’?” Robbie held his hands up and stopped his excuses. “I’m not a troll living under a bridge.”

“You could have told me, you know. I’m open-minded and accepting.” Logan wagged his finger toward Robbie. “But you’ve been with women, unless you were faking it. Are you bi?”

His blood picked up speed. Adrenaline, shock, incredulity hammered at his heart and disembodied his mind. All he could do was stare at Logan and blink.

“I’m not bi,” Robbie finally said.

“Gay?”

“I’m not gay or bi. Where the hell did you get the idea I was? Did Sheila say something?”

Logan crossed his arms and slouched back in the chair. “Sheila said Darcy outed you at practice.”

“Why would Darcy think I’m gay? Last night …” Robbie shuffled a hand through his hair to rub at his nape. A headache due to the heat and the late night throbbed at the base of his skull.

“You said nothing happened.” Logan’s voice turned hard, protective, as did his stance, elbows braced on knees.

“Nothing did happen … but I thought … I mean, she seemed … never mind.” She had been attracted to him, hadn’t she? Had he completely misread her signals? “Has she got something against me?”

Logan scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t know. She’s worried you’re being nice to Ada to get all her land.”

The destructive rumors bordered on hateful. Maybe his first impression of her at the river was right. Maybe she was flighty and selfish. But last night she’d been funny and sweet. “Is she trying to get me run out of town?”

“If Darcy said you were gay, she believed it.”

Robbie grabbed his baseball cap and stood so forcefully the chair rocketed back into a whiteboard, scattering markers. “Where is she?”

“Back home with Ada by now, I’d guess.”

Without another word, he whistled for Avery and walked out. Pulling his brim low, he ignored the sideways glances and whispers. He’d served side by side with gay men. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” was a farce to appease the political machine. You couldn’t live with a man, face the danger they faced, and not know. Never bothered him.

But his foothold in the town and with the football team was tenuous. Not everyone on the school board had wanted to hire an outsider. He still had to prove himself, and he wasn’t naïve. Rumors circulating about his sexual preference weren’t going to garner him fans in the generally conservative town.

By the time he slid into his truck, he recognized his anger had grown too hot. Avery licked his hand. Robbie closed his eyes and caressed his dog’s soft ears while he breathed deep and counted. By the time he’d reached twenty, his boiling anger had reduced to a simmer.

The bouts of panic and anger he’d struggled with since childhood came less and less frequently and had become easier to control. He drove toward Miss Ada’s with determination tensing his muscles. He’d fight to stay in Falcon.

His truck tossed gravel onto her little convertible in its skidding stop. With Avery on his heels, he hopped out, circled the porch to the kitchen by habit, and yanked the screen door open. Avery bounded inside, and Robbie followed. The screen door hit hard, startling Darcy like a quail ready to take flight, her hands braced on the counter. Avery fed on Robbie’s agitation and barked at their cornered prey.

A black cotton T-shirt dress hung loosely but exposed miles of leg. Damp hair waved over her shoulders, and bare feet shifted on the dark-planked floor. Her face was makeup free and pale. Her teeth pulled on both lips, drawing the only color into her face. In contrast to the tension clouding the room, something smelled wonderful and comforting. Sweet and rich.

He skipped the pleasantries. “You announced to everyone I’m gay. Why?”

“I did not.” She pushed up straighter against the counter.

“None of those women got the idea I’m a homosexual from you?”

Her face dropped to her shoulder before popping back up to his. “Well”—she drew the word out—“one of the women eavesdropped on a private conversation I was having with Kat. It was certainly not my intention to wrongly out you to the town. I really thought you were gay, but now I know you’re not.”

He used his size to intimidate her, feeling like a jerk even though he couldn’t stop himself. She pressed farther back against the counter. Avery’s hackles rose, and the dog added a threatening throaty growl to the already dark undertones. Her gaze bounced between them.

“Stand down,” he said to Avery, accompanied by a hand signal. The dog sat, but the reverberating rumble continued. Robbie switched his attention back to Darcy. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, drawing his eye. “Of course not. It was a total misunderstanding. Logan told me you were a ‘man’s man,’ and when I asked if Avery was your girlfriend, you said no. You talked about him like he’s your best friend or something. Like you love him.”

“I
do
love him. He
is
my best friend.” Christ, why had he admitted
that
? Next, she’d be telling everyone he was into bestiality.

“I’m so sorry. I’d had a bit too much to drink and wasn’t thinking … straight.” Her eyes widened, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, but he couldn’t tell if the Freudian slip amused or embarrassed her. “It’s just that, normally someone like you wouldn’t, you know, be into someone like me. When I thought you were gay and being neighborly, everything made more sense.”

Her words dented his ego. “What? A dumb jock couldn’t be interested in an intelligent, beautiful woman?”

Her face shot to his on a quick, indrawn breath. She tucked hair behind an ear before rubbing the ends in a nervous gesture. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

He closed the distance between them, close enough to see every freckle dotting the bridge of her nose. “How are you going to make this right?”

“I made you a banana pudding,” she lilted, pointing to the casserole dish on the counter.

“A banana pudding? Seriously?”

Her hunched shoulders and the fingernail between her teeth transmitted her nerves in waves. Her gaze was stuck on Avery, and Robbie realized the dog had stepped forward with him, his stance protective, teeth bared. A short whistle had Avery retreating to the door with a whine.

“I could tell everyone you were the best lay of my life and when you blew me off in the morning, I got jealous?” she suggested.

The uncertainty in her voice was in stark contrast to the woman he’d sparred with at the river or flirted with at The Tavern. He relaxed his stance and propped one hand on the counter, leaning in. She pulled back as if afraid. Finally, he had the upper hand. A smile wanted to curl his lips, but he forced his face to stay bland.

“Gee, that makes me sound like a real Boy Scout, doesn’t it? While there’s something appealing about your humiliation—unlike you, lying goes against what I stand for.”

“I didn’t lie exactly.”

He ignored her weak defense and wagged his finger in her face. “Not that I wouldn’t be the best lay of your life, I would. But still, as I didn’t close the deal—”

“Close the deal?” Her shoulders dropped, and her chin jutted forward. The fire he’d sensed yesterday flared between them. “You’re not recruiting me to your football team. And, if you wanted to ‘close the deal,’” she said with air quotes, “why didn’t you make a move?”

“Because you were blitzed, and excuse me for being gentlemanly, but I didn’t want you puking your guts up while I screwed you.” He kept his words intentionally crude.

“Yeah, you sound like a real gentleman.” Her drawl dripped sarcasm. “And, I wasn’t drunk enough for a one-night stand with you, Coach Dalton. You overestimate your appeal.” With a flip of her hair and an exaggerated eye roll, she shoved his arm away and started to the hall door.

Honeysuckle shampoo assailed him on his huge, annoyed inhale. He circled her wrist with reflexes honed on football fields and battlefields and jerked her around, ignoring her huff of surprise.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

He kept her wrist in a vise, while his other hand settled on the small of her back. The same frisson of desire from the night before seeped into his fingers and gentled his touch. Her face tipped up, her mouth parted, and her blue eyes rounded with an emotion he couldn’t interpret. “Closing the deal.”

His mouth descended. Even though he accepted that he should keep his hands off, his subconscious refused to abide by the logical commands. His tongue coasted along the length of her full, soft upper lip before he pulled it into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like the banana pudding behind her.

He deserved a slap, half-expected one, but instead she delved fingers into his hair and knocked his baseball cap to the floor. Her body melded with his without any encouragement from his hands, which were free to wander up and down her back.