Completing the Pass (5 page)

“I keep telling you, the Inn is the best place to pick up chicks. But do either of you listen?”

“No,” they said together again.

“Because I'm fucking married, asshole,” Derrick added.

“Whatever. So I mention the bar, and she thanks me, and I say something like, ‘Maybe I'll see you there.' And do you know what she says to me?”

“Breathless with anticipation,” Josh told him, deciding against the third slice. Watching a little sauce dribble down Derrick's chin had been the kicker.

“She says, ‘Oh, well, that sounds nice but I think you're a little too old for me.'” Tony looked disgusted as he picked up the red plastic cup and took a sip of his draft beer. “Come on! I'm not even thirty!”

“Getting closer every day,” Josh reminded him, mostly to watch his friend's face pale a little.

“Evil,” Tony said, flicking a mushroom at him.

“Angie's pregnant,” Derrick said lightly.

Both men stopped and stared at their friend, eyes wide. “What?” Josh asked.

“My wife,” he said, as if they needed the reminder, taking another bite of pizza. He chewed a few times, then repeated, “Angie's pregnant.”

“On purpose?” Tony asked. Josh kicked his shin under the table. “What? It seemed like a legit question.”

“It wasn't,” Josh said with a silent warning look. To Derrick, “Congrats, man. You're gonna be a daddy.”

Derrick's face split into a wide grin. “Yup. Seven or eight or however many months she has left to go and I can call myself Dad.”

“Daddy Derrick should find out how long a human is pregnant before he can call himself Daddy,” Tony suggested, eyes wandering along until they locked onto a coed's short shorts as she walked by.

Josh kicked him again, just for fun.

“You have any chance of playing this year?” Tony asked, sneering a little in retaliation for the kicks. “Or are you just riding the bench again?”

“He makes more sitting on his ass for one game than you do all year busting yours at the store,” Derrick reminded their friend.

“And lives in a freaking one-bedroom economy apartment, perpetually alone, like a monk. Waste.” Tony sighed and took another sip. “Seriously, though. It would be a lot more fun going out with you if females actually knew who you were.”

“Lots of females know who I am,” Josh shot back. “Your mom, for example. She called me the other day and—”

Tony kicked him back under the table.

“Hey, I'm just hoping the Bobcats make it to the Bowl this year. And Owens is the guy to do it.” Derrick smiled as he started to reach for his sixth slice, then drew his hand back. “Better not.”

“You could call your gut a sympathy belly and Angie would probably love it,” Tony suggested.

Derrick looked dubious, then decided to go for it anyway and grabbed the last slice.

“I don't know about any of that,” Josh said, silently asking for forgiveness on the lie. He'd never been
in the know
before this season, and so any other time his friends begged for details, he'd been able to say with a straight face, “I don't know.” Now . . .

“Hey, didn't we go to school with that girl?”

Josh took a sip of his sweet tea and looked around in response to Derrick's question. “I don't know . . . where?”

“There, by the counter, picking up the order. Katie?”

“Carri,” Tony corrected, leaning out of the booth a little. “She was pretty hot back in high school.”

“Carrington Gray,” Josh added, taking a quick glance himself. There was Carri, looking more casual than she had the last two times he'd seen her, wearing cutoffs and a tank top, with sandals on her feet and her hair wrapped in a cloth headband.

As he watched, Carri handed the cashier some money and turned a little to wait for the pizza she'd obviously ordered.

“She got hotter. Damn.” Tony slapped a palm on the table. “Okay, let me out. I'm gonna give that a try.”

“She's too old for you,” Derrick said mildly, not moving.

“She was a year younger than us,” Tony said, then looked at Josh for confirmation. Josh nodded tightly. “Yeah, there. Only a year younger.”

“Which is still about five years past your preferred expiration date.”

Tony shoved at Derrick, but the man didn't budge.

“Leave her alone,” Josh said softly, but Tony didn't miss the edge in his voice.

“Oh, I see. You already staked some claim there? Wait, Carrington . . . Gray . . . you two were super-enemies back in high school.”

Derrick grinned and pointed his crust at Josh. “You totally hated each other.”

“We both thought you two were secretly going at it behind everyone's backs.”

Josh stared at his friends, jaw dropped. “What the hell? You did not.”

“Totally did,” Derrick confirmed. “It was the only explanation to either of us as to why you two couldn't get along.”

“We hated each other back then, and we're not that keen on each other now. I'm just warning you off for your own sake,” he told Tony.

“Well, if you're not going to call dibs, then . . .” Tony stood up halfway in the booth, since Derrick wouldn't let him out. “Hey! Carri! Over here!”

Josh let his head fall into his arms on the table.

***

“Hey! Carri! Over here!”

Carri fought against the rising panic. Of course, of damn course, there would be someone at Pizza Dan's who knew her. And she'd crawled out of the house looking like baked Southwestern roadkill. Just lovely.

Pasting a smile on her face, she scanned the crowd and quickly found him. Or rather, them. Three men sat at a booth toward the back, one of which was standing up and frantically waving. She glanced back to the cashier. “Uh, I'll be right back.”

“Pizza will be ready in about five,” the cashier told her, and Carri wandered toward the back.

She realized, after a moment, that the third man sitting with his back to her was none other than Josh Leeman. Which made the two facing her his best buds from high school, Tony and Derrick. Derrick had definitely filled out, and then some. But Tony looked remarkably unchanged.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Tony said as she approached.

No, he definitely hadn't changed.

“Hi. Tony, right?”

He flashed her a grin that she was sure had charmed girls in high school. It looked a little underwhelming on a twenty-seven year old man.

“You got it. You remember Derrick?”

Derrick gave her a friendly, nonthreatening smile and waved a little. His left hand had a wedding band on it. He had always been a pleasant enough guy, despite his lack of judgment on friends. She'd bet his wife was quite content with her choice. He'd be the kind of guy to never let his eye wander, be home before midnight, even on guys' night out, and bring home flowers on their anniversary.

“And Josh, of course.”

He glanced up at her—or halfway glanced up at her. “Hey.”

“Hello.” She stood awkwardly for a moment, hooking her thumbs into her pockets. “So . . . you guys live around here still?”

“Just south of here. I do IT for the hospital,” Derrick confirmed.

“Manager at Debraugher's,” Tony added. Debraugher's was the local grocery-store chain.

“Nice.” She nodded, unsure of what to say next. These guys hadn't been her friends in high school. She'd simply known them through Josh, who was not her favorite person at the moment. “Well, uh, I should probably get my pizza.”

Tony looked around her toward the counter. “Looks like it's not ready yet. Sit down.”

She looked at the bench Josh was occupying all by himself. He waited a beat, then nudged over about an inch. Coldest invitation, ever.

Perching herself on the edge so they wouldn't touch, she kept her hands in her lap. “So, life is good?”

“Yeah, sure. Are you back for good? Did you move away? You left the area, didn't you?”

“I did, yes. I'm just visiting my folks.” She glanced at Josh to see if he'd mentioned her father's situation. But his eyes stayed on his plate and the few stray veggies that remained from the pizza. “I'm not sure how long I'll be around.”

“You're in . . . Colorado, right?” Derrick asked.

“Utah. Salt Lake City.”

“What do you do out there?” Tony asked, giving her an interested look.

Josh grunted, shifted in his seat, and smiled grimly when Tony sucked in a breath.

She was definitely missing something.

“Uh, I'm a real-estate investor. I flip houses, or sometimes I keep them for rentals. Professors and grad students, mostly, being close to USU.”

“Fascinating. While you're here, we should get together. Go see some of the old haunts.”

She blinked at Tony's suggestion. “Old haunts?”

“Yeah, you know, the places we used to hang out. Memory lane, all that.”

She bit back the retort they had no memory lane to tread down, because they'd never been friends. The few times they'd been in each other's company had been because of Josh. “Uh . . . oh!” Relief poured through her as the cashier called her name to indicate her pizza was ready. “Sorry, gotta get the pie back home before my parents flip on each other.”

“I'll walk you out,” Josh said quickly, pushing at her to get out of the bench.”

“I can get to my car by myself,” she said, giving him a
do not dare
look of steel. It lost some edge when she took in his outfit of choice for the day . . . tight T-shirt and a pair of simple khaki cargo shorts. The T-shirt pulled hard over his chest and upper arms, sculpting a picture of his physique. He'd managed to get wider, even from college. Her hands itched to slide over the smooth fabric, feel if he was actually as hard, as taut, as he appeared.

She froze, everything in her going instantly hot and cold at the same time. Gross. Oh, just gross. Josh Leeman . . . This was Josh and she was thinking about playing seductress? What the hell was wrong with her?

Josh ignored the warning, and annoyingly, did just as he damn well pleased. Like always. That cooled some of the silent embarrassment she was harboring. “I have a message for your mom from my mom. Be back in a second, guys.” Then she was propelled from the seat as if he'd hit the Eject button.

“Nice to see you again,” she said in a rush while he pushed at her from behind.

“Let me know about getting together!” Tony called.

She just waved and walked straight ahead.

Jesus Christ. What was the matter with him? He waited for her to pick up the pizza, then took it from her and all but shoved her out the door and into the parking lot. The second they were on asphalt, she whirled around and gripped the box, tugging hard.

“What the hell is your problem,
Joshua
?”

“I don't have a problem,
Carrington
,” he shot back. “What's up with you hitting on my friends? Derrick's married, by the way.”

“Oh, is that what the wedding band on his left ring finger meant?” she sneered, pulling on the box. He didn't let go. “Give me my dinner.”

“No.”

Her eyes widened. “What are you, seven? Let go.”

“Not until you say you won't go out with Tony.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You can't be serious. You think I'm going to go out with Tony? That guy had, like, five STDs before he graduated high school.”

A vast exaggeration . . . Josh hoped. But the sentiment was on track. “Good.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other across from the box, both breathing heavily. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each labored inhalation and wondered for a moment if this was what she would look like under him, fighting for dominance in bed. The fire in her eyes, the tautness of her body, the ultimate
I'll go to the mat over this
attitude . . .

And then he realized what he was thinking . . . and shuddered.

“You're not the boss of me,” she said quietly. “Never have been, never will be. The moms might think it's cute to push us together, but we both know better. I don't live here, and you don't want me.”

It struck him as odd that for the first time, she hadn't shot back
and I don't want you, either.
Her eyes glittered with frustration and annoyance.

And had the most unsettling desire to throw the pizza to the ground, grab her and kiss her.

Waste of a good pizza, since she'd just slap him. Or scream for help. Probably both.

He let go when he realized her expression had slowly morphed from pissed to concerned.

“You okay?” she asked after another moment standing there watching him with those too-observant eyes. “You look sort of sick.”

The image of kissing his childhood enemy would do that to a guy. “Yeah, whatever. Just . . . leave Tony alone. He's my friend, but he's hell on women.”

“Believe me, I have no desire to be another notch on Tony's bedpost.” She took a few steps toward a car which he recognized as her mother's, then turned around and shot him a grin. “Tell me, does he still live with his mother?”

Josh bit back a grin and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Moved out last year.”

“So close.” With a one-shoulder shrug, she left without another look back.

Josh considered it penance—or maybe just nature—that his eyes tracked to her heart-shaped ass cupped in the cut-off denim shorts and felt the stirrings of a boner.

***

Carri set the pizza down on the kitchen counter and rummaged through her bag for her phone. She managed to answer it just before it kicked over to voice mail. “Hello?”

“Why do you sound like you've been running? Oh my God, you're a fitness freak now. They've changed you.”

“Shut up, Jess.” She walked back to the corner of the eat-in kitchen, where the chair her mother always dropped her purse on sat, and left her own there as well, out of habit. “I couldn't get to my phone in my bag. What's up? Everything good?”

“Yup, the tenants have moved out, agreed to pay the rent until we get a new tenant in, and thanked us profusely for letting them off the hook for the last four or five months—depending on when we get a new person in there. They also left it basically spotless and have been putting the word out on social media about the excellent landlords they had.”

“See?” Carri grinned as she reached into the top cabinet for the paper plates. Pizza demanded paper plates. Otherwise, what was the point of saving time and energy with ordering a pizza if you were just going to wash dishes later? “I told you spending the extra time and attention picking our tenants was the right choice. You wanted to go with the first person to pass a background check.”

Jess just grumbled.

“Anything else going on? No burst pipes, rotting siding, lawsuits?” Rental property was a good investment, but it definitely wasn't hassle free.

“No, nothing like that.” Jess hesitated. “There's a property . . . Remember that neighborhood on the west side of campus? The area you said you'd love to get into?”

“The quiet one, with all the professors living there? Hell yeah. Why, what's up?”

“There's a house . . .”

Carri winced as she set the plates down and went for plastic cups. “No, Jess.”

“The funds for renovations are there in the business account,” her friend shot back.

They were, but Carri refused to buy property unless she had looked at it herself. She trusted Jess with her accounts, with her tenants, with contractors, and more. But when Carri was about to plunk down tens—potentially hundreds—of thousands of dollars, she insisted on making the call herself. Even when investors stepped up to help out with the bulk of the money, Carri felt it was her responsibility to choose which properties to jump into. It was a preference, and one Jess didn't agree with. Jess wanted in on the real-estate action herself.

“You're going to miss out. It's a short sale. Priced a little high for the work I think needs to be done—based on peeking through a window, plus what I can see of the roof from the street—but it's going to go fast.”

“I'm sure it will. I'm sorry I'll miss out on the opportunity.” That hurt to say. Carri didn't buy real estate unless she could get a bargain. And often times, that meant she went without. Her goal from the start had been to not overshoot herself, overextend herself, overgrow herself. What she'd learned by watching and reading was that was where investors got into serious problems. Even so, she'd had to use investors more times than she was comfortable with.

“So then come back.” Jess huffed. “Your dad's out of the hospital, he's been home nearly a week. Come home.”

She nearly said, “I am home,” but refused to voice the blasphemous words. Salt Lake City hadn't felt like home, either. It was a great area, and she loved being there, but it wasn't . . . home. There was no other way to put it. Eventually, she'd find the place that suited her. Or she'd be content to make the place she landed in work for her.

“I'm trying, I really am,” she swore, shooting her dad a smile as he shuffled into the kitchen in his slippers, white undershirt, and flannel pajama pants. His salt-and-pepper hair that rimmed the back and sides of his head stuck out every direction, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. “Hold on a sec, Jess.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” Herb walked up to her, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and pulled back to smile at her. “You brought pizza. Did you get mushrooms?”

“On half, Dad.”

“Go get your mother, see if she's ready to eat.” He patted her arms and walked toward the pizza box on the counter.

She studied him a moment. He seemed steadier today. More with it. The same dad she'd seen so many months ago when she'd last visited. “Sorry, Jess. Thanks for waiting.”

“So, are you coming soon?”

“I'm . . . Maybe.” If her father was making progress, either because of meds or something else, maybe she didn't need to stay any longer. “I'll let you know. Bye.”

She hung up and watched as her father lifted a slice of pizza from the box and set it on his plate. Before she left, he called, “Maeve?”

“I'll get her, Dad.”

“Oh, there you are.” Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her a gentle smile. “What are all these brown flecks on the pizza? Seems pretty unsanitary to me.”

“Dad . . . it's Carri.” She approached carefully and realized he was picking off a mushroom. He loved mushrooms. “They're mushrooms, Daddy.”

“Maeve, we're not in the bedroom, you can drop all that
Daddy
talk,” he said sternly.

Ew.
Brain bleach, stat.

“I'll go get Mom.” Backing away, she hurried to get her mother while her father tossed his beloved pizza toppings into the sink one at a time.

***

Josh came back from his self-inflicted run soaking wet and wondering why he'd left the exercise for the most brutal part of the day.

Right . . . because he was still trying to work out the unfortunate, ill-advised sexual tension he felt every time Carrington Gray entered his thoughts. Which, unfortunately, was way more often than necessary.

When his phone, still in the arm band around his bicep, rang, he answered it with a breathless, “Yeah?”

“I first want to apologize,” an unfamiliar voice started. “Because you're about to find yourself in a new world, and it's mostly my fault.”

“Your . . . Apologize? Who is this?” Josh raised his arm to look at his phone's screen, but it was an unfamiliar Santa Fe number.

“It's Trey.”

Josh was silent as he processed that.

“Trey Owens, idiot. Who the hell did you think it was?”

“Honestly? No clue.” But now that he'd said it, the voice sounded more familiar, and it clicked. “Okay, now that that's out of the way, what are you apologizing for again?” He toed off his shoes and left them by the door, a habit he'd taken from his mother's home and been unable to give up when he moved into his own place.

“For putting you in the position you're about to be in.”

“And what position is that?” He headed straight for the kitchen and his water bottle he'd left in the fridge. Taking a long gulp, he analyzed the silence. “Not gonna say?”

“Me getting hurt, putting you in the firing range.”

“It's my job to step up when you're out of the game,” Josh reminded him.

“Yeah, it is. But usually that's because we're up, like, a bazillion points or we don't have a shot in hell of winning.” Trey paused. “No offense.”

“Hey, I pale in comparison.” It wasn't meant to be snarky . . . it was simple truth. Trey Owens was a franchise player owners dreamed about. Josh had been an outstanding high school QB, and a damn good college quarterback. But in the pros, he was best suited to second string. A spot he was perfectly content with . . . he thought.

“Yeah, well, the comparison part will come soon enough. I know you'll be getting a lot more attention during training camp, so again, sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing? Don't guys
like
attention?”

Trey was silent for a moment. “Some guys, sure. Matt Peterson would bask in it. Bathe in attention, if he could.”

Josh chuckled at that. So very true. Their flashy defensive lineman was all that glittered, and loved being the center of any party.

“But not everyone relishes the attention. I don't. A lot of others don't. I'm guessing, with how easy you've been as backup, you won't really love it, either.”

“I don't know,” Josh answered honestly. “But this really isn't relevant anyway. So I'll play a little more during the preseason games. People will just know they're saving you for the real deal. Nobody will look twice at me.”

Trey blew out a breath. “Man, I hope. But I think they're riding a little too high on expectations for me to get back. This ankle . . . it's pretty fucked up, man. That's just between us, you know? I'm a little worried.”

Josh's gut clenched. No, please . . . he wasn't ready to lead a team for an entire season. He wasn't That Guy. Trey was the clutch player, the one everybody watched to emulate, to take their cues from. He was a natural-born leader. Josh just threw a football. “Rest up, ice and heat and all that. You need to get back here.”

“If you have trouble with press, let me know. I've been there. I can give you a few pointers.”

“Positive healing vibes, positive healing energy,” Josh said, feeling a little panicked. He sank down onto the couch, heedless of the fact he was still dripping wet and would regret it later when his cushion was crusty with dried sweat. “Keep it positive, man.”

“Just prepping you for the worst. And when Simon comes to you to give you the rundown on media training . . .” Trey grunted. “Everything with a grain of salt. Be yourself. That's my best advice.”

“Thanks, that's great, but you'll be back.” Josh forced his voice to stay firm. “So this is a moot point.”

“Here's hoping,” Trey said lightly.

Josh waited a beat, then realized Trey wasn't done with the conversation. “So, uh, how's marriage? Cassie seems pretty great.”

“She is.” Sounding smug, Trey chuckled. “Marriage . . . it's not so bad. Anyway, last piece of advice before I get off here. Find someone who's gonna give you shit.”

“That . . . makes no sense.”

“Find someone who, no matter what happens, won't be impressed with you. Who won't let you get a big head. Even the most humble of guys can get caught up in the PR trap. Family, friends, whatever. Find that person and let them keep you grounded.”

Trey hung up before Josh could ask a follow-up question. He set his phone down and used the tail of his T-shirt to wipe his face.

Family . . . that was his mother. And while she knew nothing about football—except to cheer on her baby boy—she thought he walked on water, more or less. She wasn't the one to prick his ego. Tony and Derrick . . . God love 'em, but they'd probably get more excited about his added play time than he would.

Would
he get excited? Josh had no clue how he'd handle it. He'd been loved in high school, but that had never felt real. In college, he'd been revered again, and maybe he'd liked that a little too much, but he'd been a young guy, fresh into adulthood. Lacking maturity.