Play Maker Page 7

  As I watched her shuffle off, I cringed, wondering if I should have suggested that Ross and I hit the local Denny’s for dinner instead.

  “Shelby, can you check the timer on the green beans?”

  I bent to open the oven just as the doorbell rang. My heart slammed up into my throat and the oven door snapped shut with a loud bang when I lost my grip on the handle. “They look great,” I said over my shoulder as I made a beeline for the front door. Aunt Maggie and my dad were watching some Christmas movie on TV in the den, and I didn’t want either of them getting to the door first. I ditched my apron on the way, leaving it hanging over the railing of the stairs, and tugged the elastic band from my ponytail. I gave my hair a shake with one hand poised on the handle and then plastered a smile on my face.

  Ross was looking ten times more delicious than all the food in the kitchen—which was saying something since my mom was one hell of a cook—in a navy blue parka and black jeans. He carried a potted poinsettia and extended it toward me as I pulled the door open all the way to let him inside. “Hello, Shelby. Good Lord, you look gorgeous.”

  Heat rose in my cheeks. “Thank you. You look—” Edible? I blinked, discarding the word. “You look great. Please, come in.”

  Ross stomped the snow off his boots and stepped inside. It had been snowing steadily for days and showed no signs of stopping. “How are you?”

  I balanced the plant on my hip as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. We’d spoken on the phone a few times in the days leading up to Christmas. Still, there was something about seeing him in person and being near enough to touch him—or for him to touch me—that made me nervous all over again. “Good.”

  “These are pretty,” he said, reaching forward to graze his fingers over the diamond post in my exposed earlobe. “New?”

  I shivered at his feather-light touch and nodded. “My parents. They shouldn’t have.”

  That had been my big gift of the year: a pair of diamond earrings, my first real pair.

  “They look great on you,” Ross said, pocketing his hands as though that were the only way he could keep them to himself.

  “Thank you. Let’s get you something to drink, and I’ll introduce you to my mom since you’ve met Aunt Maggie and my dad already.”

  Ross reached for my hand, and my breath hitched as he locked his fingers with mine. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” I said, marveling at how true the sentiment felt once the words left my mouth. I had missed Ross. He was quickly becoming an integral part of my life even though we’d only met a little over a week ago.

  “The CIA guy?”

  I squeezed my eyes together at Aunt Maggie’s booming voice. She was the embodiment of the big personality in a small package stereotype.

  “Hello, Maggie,” Ross said.

  I pried my eyes open and turned to face Aunt Maggie, my hand still locked with Ross’s. “Aunt Maggie, this is Ross Leverette. He’s a football player, not a spy.”

  Aunt Maggie folded her arms. “Football, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She worked her lower lip for a moment. “Where are you from?”

  “Arizona, ma’am.”

  She continued to eye him as she searched her mental records. Aunt Maggie was a college football fan, and I could almost see her flipping through her memories for any hint of Ross’s name. After a long moment, her eyes went wide, sparking with light. She snapped her fingers. “Ross Leverette! I remember you, now. You were one hell of a quarterback”

  Ross chuckled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” Aunt Maggie waved a hand at him as she shuffled across the floor. She threaded her arm through his, tugging him toward the kitchen and out of my grasp. “Tell me something, any of those football friends of yours into older women? Cougars, as all the kids say.”

  I slapped my hand over my mouth and shook my head. Only Aunt Maggie.

  By the time dinner was served, everyone was getting along easily. My mom had enough booze in her system to forgive Aunt Maggie’s increasing levels of inappropriateness. My dad and Ross proved they could talk football forever. And I was feeling warm and sleepy after having had a few too many glasses of wine while preparing the meal.

  Ross pulled my chair out for me, and I glanced up at him with a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Such a gentleman,” Aunt Maggie said, flashing a tipsy grin. “You hold onto this one, Shelbs. Tall, broad-shouldered, manners. Obviously, comes from good stock. Plus,” her smile went from warm to devious in the blink of an eye as she leaned forward, “he’s probably hung like a—”

  “Margaret!” my father boomed, nearly jumping out of his skin.

  Aunt Maggie snorted and then dissolved into giggles as she reached for her wineglass. My mom swooped in and dragged it out of her path with a scowl. Aunt Maggie shrugged. “Look at his big ol’ hands! You know what they say...”

  “No, we don’t, Maggie,” my dad told her sternly.

  My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I didn’t dare glance at Ross as he took his seat beside me. “Sorry,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

  “Please, everyone, let’s pray,” my mother said, shooting another deadly glare at Aunt Maggie.

  We all joined hands around the table, and my dad led us in the traditional holiday prayer. I couldn’t really pick out the words as I was distracted by the way Ross’s thumb was brushing against the inside of my palm. With everyone’s heads bowed and eyes closed, I peeked over at him, and he lifted my hand to plant a slow kiss on the ridge of my knuckles.

  Holy. Hot. Damn. Shit. Fuck. Me.

  “Amen!”

  I jolted to attention and added an Amen of my own. Beside me, Ross chuckled under his breath.

  Dinner went on, the conversation flowing as we all passed dishes back and forth. It was surprising how easy and natural it felt. I’d never brought a guy home before. Certainly not for Christmas. He fit in seamlessly, even gracefully handling Aunt Maggie’s open ogling and muttered comments about how he should have been a tight end.

  “Where are your folks, son?” Aunt Maggie asked, her words slightly slurring together.

  I sucked in a breath as Ross cleared his throat. “Umm. My mom lives in Arizona. She’s remarried. My dad isn’t in the picture.” The tightness of his voice cut through me like a hot knife. He’d been the same way on our date the other night. His family was obviously a pain point, one that I was still curious about, but I didn’t want to press on. And I especially didn’t want Aunt Maggie pushing it either.

  “Well, I’m delighted you were able to join us,” Mom said, cutting off Aunt Maggie before she could dig any deeper.

  Thank God for Mom.

  Maggie’s diner was a gossip haven for the city, and she prided herself on always having the goods on the locals. I wasn’t going to let her spread gossip about Ross. She wouldn’t mean it maliciously, but there was no telling what damage it could do. Besides that, it really wasn’t anyone’s business.

  “Yes, we all are, Ross,” my dad said, smiling cheesily across the table while swiftly elbowing Aunt Maggie beside him.

  “Thank you,” Ross said, though his smile seemed forced.

  An awkward silence settled over the table, accentuating the sounds of utensils on the fancy china my mom only busted out for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I searched my mind for a way to start a new conversation but came up short.

  “Anyone ready for dessert?” my mom asked, pushing away from the table.

  “I’m always ready for dessert,” my dad said.conversation,

  My mom placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Pumpkin pie or chocolate torte?”

  “Both?”

  She scoffed at his reply, but then turned her eye to Aunt Maggie. “Margaret?” She only called her that when she was pissed off.

  “I think it’s time to trot out the eggnog.”

  My mom sighed and marched into the kitchen.

  “I�
��ll help,” I said, hopping up from my own chair. “Ross? Are football players allowed a slice of Christmas pie?”

  He smiled up at me. “Chocolate sounds good. Thanks.”

  I followed my mom into the kitchen and found her pouring herself another glass of wine. “I’m sorry about her,” she said, catching my eye as I went to the fridge where the two desserts were stashed.

  “It’s fine.” I pulled the two pie pans from the fridge and set them on the island before returning for the freshly whipped cream. “She means well. Ross’s been going to the diner for a while, so I’m fairly sure he knows she’s spunky.”

  “That’s a word for it.”

  I smiled and found a knife. “What do you think? Of Ross.”

  “He’s great. Seems like a nice young man. Your father is star-struck.”

  I laughed and sliced the pies into eight equal pieces. “Makes it a lot easier. Not that I was all that worried that he’d drag out a shotgun and set up shop on the front porch.”

  My mom chuckled around her wineglass and pushed away from the counter to help me plate the desserts.

  When the last crumbs of pie were gone and all the plates and silverware were stacked in neat rows beside the sink, my dad and Aunt Maggie retired to the den to finish up the Christmas movie they’d started before dinner. Maggie was stumbling a bit and would probably fall asleep on the couch.

  My mom went to work on the dishes. When Ross and I offered to help, she waved us off and we wound back through the dining room and stopped in the living room. Finally, alone. Ross hadn’t quite been the same since talking about his family at the dinner table. I laced my hands together, suddenly wishing I’d worn something with pockets, and glanced up at him. “Do you want to stay? We can go watch the last part of the movie and drink cocoa and eggnog.”

  Ross reached behind him and rubbed his palm over the back of his neck. His eyes glanced back and forth a few times as though he were torn about what to say. After a moment, he dropped his hand and grabbed mine. “I’d love to, but I should get going before the roads get too iced over.”

  “Right.” I nodded and forced a smile. He located his coat from the rack by the front door and pulled it on. “Well, thank you for coming. I’m glad you could join me. Us.”

  “Shelby, I” He shifted his weight back into his heels. His jaw went tense and he worked it back and forth. I waited for him to say whatever he was could, but he swallowed it down. “I had a great time. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.” I pulled the front door open, ushering him out, even though it made my heart ache to have him leaving so soon, especially since I didn’t know what he was thinking. With a quiet smile, he turned and left, walking down the slick, ice-coated driveway before I could find out.

  11

  Ross

  “Damn, Leverette! You gonna leave some of that bag for the next guy?”

  I threw another right hook, then blasted a series of punches and jabs, ignoring whoever was jeering me from the corner of the gym. The punching bag swung, and I jumped back a split second before delivering a roundhouse kick. Kickboxing wasn’t exactly a football workout, but it had always been my favorite, especially on mornings when I couldn’t shake the anger that hung around me.

  “Guess that’s a no” the voice that I finally recognized as Beauman, our middle linebacker, added under his breath. “You okay, man?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied, the answer grit between my clenched teeth as I went back to raining blows against the bag.

  A glance over to my right told me he wasn’t going to drop it. Instead, he leaned against the wall and pocketed his hands. “It’s just that most of us are still in a Christmas dinner coma, and you’re in here tearing it up like Rocky Balboa on crack.”

  A hard punch rattled through me. Damn it. He was throwing off my concentration. I dropped my arms and glared at the bag as it swung to a stop. When it went still, I pivoted on the heel of my sneakers and stalked a few paces closer to where he was lounging. “I said I’m fine.”

  The problem with Beauman was that he wasn’t afraid of anyone. He could face down a three-hundred-plus-pound lineman without blinking. I was just about his same height, and he had a good fifty pounds on me, so if we got into it, I wasn’t sure who would win. Not that I wanted to fight him. He wasn’t my problem.

  I shrugged my shoulders back, releasing the tension built up between them. “What do you want, man? I had a shitty night and needed to come in here to blow off some steam today.”

  Chance didn’t break eye contact. He glared at me with a cool, unflinching stare. “Listen, man, I don’t know your story, and it’s cool if you don’t wanna tell me, but if you do, just know I’m here for you. All right?”

  My teeth dug into the side of my cheek as I wrestled with whether or not to tell him. After the sleepless night I had, tangled in the sheets, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, I was tired of living inside my own head. Maybe spilling my guts would help.

  At the last second, I shook my head. “I’m good, man. Thanks.”

  He didn’t move as I left the room and hit the showers.

  The coaching staff kept practice long, even though it was the day after Christmas and most of the guys would have probably rather been home with their families. But we had a playoff game coming up and I needed to squeeze out every spare minute of practice time in preparation. Which was fine with me. All I had to look forward to was a night of mindless TV and a pre-cooked dinner.

  I’d avoided my phone all day, but when practice was finally over, I pulled it from my locker and noticed that among the list of missed calls and text messages, there was a missed call from Shelby. My heart twisted in my chest as I stared at her name. I swallowed it down and shoved the phone back into my pocket. “God, you’re such a jackass, Leverette,” I said to myself, slamming my locker closed.

  Halfway through my microwaved dinner and a shitty made-for-TV movie—the only thing I could find that wasn’t Christmas related—the hole in my chest had gotten wide enough that I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I pushed up from my reclining chair and went to the small table by the front door where I usually left pocket change, car keys, and my phone. I grabbed the phone and scrolled through to find Shelby’s missed call. Without giving myself another moment to think, I dialed her number and started pacing my living room as I waited for her to pick up.

  Just when I thought it was going to click over to voicemail, her soft voice answered, “Hello?”

  I raked a hand through my hair, still damp from my post-practice shower. “Shelby? Hey, it’s Ross.”

  “Hi, Ross. How are you?”

  Damn it, this was awkward. I knew I had some explaining to do. I just wasn’t sure how to start. Or where.

  “I’m all right. Unfortunately, I was at practice most of the day and missed your call.”

  “Practice the day after Christmas? Wow, slave drivers.” There was a hint of amusement to her voice that melted me a little.

  “Yeah. What about you? Hanging with your fam?”

  “Mostly. We kind of have a tradition that the day after Christmas we go to the shelter and serve up food for the folks gathered there. Many people volunteer on Christmas, so we fill the gap and sign up for the day after.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s really cool.” Shelby blew my mind a little more every time I talked to her. As she revealed more pieces of her life, I became more convinced that she was an angel. Granted, with a body made for sin.

  “It’s always a good time. The people are so kind.” She paused, and I heard a noise in the background. Was she out somewhere? “I was on my way to see my friend Rayna for a little while. Uhm, would it be all right if I called you back a little later?”

  My heart sank again. I dropped into my chair and nodded to myself. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be up late. So, uh, don’t worry about that.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later then.”

  “Great.”

  “Bye.”
/>
  We hung up, and I let out a deep sigh. I knew the instant I’d made a quick exit from her parents’ house that things were off. I’d managed to pop that bubble we’d stepped inside after our first date. The worst part was that I couldn’t tell her why. I couldn’t find the words to explain the suffocating feeling that had grabbed hold of me after having dinner with her family. I couldn’t tell her that I hadn’t seen my own family for Christmas in six years. And I definitely couldn’t tell her the reasons as to why.

  Because that would mean admitting I was broken. Fucked up. Damaged.

  And I didn’t want her to know any of that.

  To my surprise, Shelby called back a few hours later. I answered quickly, simultaneously muting the TV. “Hey, how’s your friend? Rayna?”

  “She’s all right. It’s kind of complicated. Listen, I’m not really the kind of girl to tiptoe around shit. I’m not very good at it. So, can I just ask if you’re still interested in seeing me or whatever it was, is, that we’re doing?”

  A startled laugh broke free at her bold question. “What? Are you serious? Of course, I’m interested.”

  She hesitated for a moment before saying, “I just yesterday felt off toward the end. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong or maybe my family. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if Aunt Maggie scared you away.”

  I chuckled. “No, that’s not it at all.” I was overwhelmed with the urge to hold her, to pull her into my arms and never let go. I needed to fix how I’d made her feel. “Where are you? Can I come get you?”

  “I’m at home.”

  “Is that a yes?” She didn’t answer right away, and my heart slammed against my chest. “I’d love to see you.”

  “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be ready.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  We hung up, and I hurried to get out of my sweats and into a pair of jeans and a soft t-shirt before bundling into my winter coat and heading for my truck. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up out front and before I could get the driver’s side door open, Shelby was on her parent's front porch. She pulled the door closed behind her and came down the walkway. I leaned across and pushed the passenger door open for her, and she climbed inside. Her hair was down in long waves, trapped under the collar of her coat. Her face was rosy from running through the brisk air, and a few snowflakes glistened from where they’d landed on her face.