Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance (36 page)

Harris sat on the bench and rubbed his
throwing arm. Zach hesitated as he walked by. “You being a pussy
again?”

“Screw you.” Harris looked up and almost
smiled. The quarterback looked haggard, beat-up, and exhausted. As
much as he’d like to, Zach couldn’t fault the guy’s heart in the
past few games, but even Harris couldn’t stop this plane from going
down.

Zach nodded. As long as Harris and he were
needling each other, things were as they should be. He watched the
man out of the corner of his eye, concerned one of those hits
Harris took might have damaged his arm. Without the game-changing
quarterback, they didn’t have a rat’s ass chance in hell of making
the playoffs.

They might not be best of friends—and never
would be—but Harris had earned a grudging respect from Zach lately
as the two team captains presented a show of unity and attempted to
keep the team together.

Only they were a platoon of soldiers with
half their men down, while the wounded survivors fought on for
honor and pride. Zach had spent the first twelve years of his life
playing for nothing but pride. He sure as hell hadn’t planned on
doing so this year with this team.

He pulled on his slacks and buttoned his
shirt.

“Now aren’t you stylin’?” Harris looked him
up and down. The QB shrugged into his shirt and winced when he
moved his shoulder.

Zach studied him with concern, even though
he wouldn’t voice it. “Kelsie.”

“I figured she’d been buying your clothes.
That woman is good for you. You’d be wise to keep her around. You
aren’t such a single-minded jerk with her keeping you under
control.”

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to pass that on to
her.”

“You do that.”

Kelsie.
The thought of her waiting
for him at home this evening picked up his battered spirits. Sure,
she’d been a little out of sorts about his Tuesday-night
meanderings. He should just tell her the truth, but for some
reason, he couldn’t. Working with homeless kids was so deeply
personal to him, and so private, he couldn’t tell her, even though
she’d spilled her guts about life with her ex.

He still didn’t completely trust her, but he
was getting there. They made a good pair in an opposites attract
sort of way. For so long, he’d been a loner who hated parties and
socializing and all those things she liked, yet parties weren’t so
bad with her at his side. She handled the small talk while he
listened with interest and nodded in all the right places. He
followed her lead on which utensils to use in what situations and
how to properly sip wine. Oh, yeah, he’d definitely become a wine
aficionado.

He smiled at the thought of Kelsie spread
out on the counter with wine dribbling down all her hills and
valleys. Damn, he loved those hills and valleys. They sure as hell
were compatible when it came to their physical relationship.

“You must be thinking about sex.”

Zach jerked his head in Tyler’s direction.
“None of your damn business.”

“That’s what I thought. Sex.”

“Have you seen his wife? I’d be thinking
about sex, too.” Hoss Price, their big center, bellowed for all to
hear. Several guys shouted their agreement and others chuckled. At
least Harris’s comment broke some of the tension in the room.

Instead of being pissed, Zach grinned with
pride. She was his, and he planned on keeping it that way. For
once, he didn’t care as much about the taunting as he once would
have. He just cared that Kelsie waited at home for him.

He’d show her how much she meant to him and
convince her they belonged together.

How the hell did a guy who didn’t have a way
with words romance a woman? Zach didn’t know the first damn thing
about romance, but he bet Harris did. Or Mabel Fay. Hell, maybe
there was a chapter in that book on romance etiquette.

An hour later, Zach settled into a seat on
the team plane and opened Mabel Fay’s book bent on gleaning some
tips on romancing Kelsie. She worshipped Mabel Fay so any advice
the old bitty might impart had to work on his beauty queen. First,
he took a picture of himself reading the book and texted it to
Kelsie, scoring some big brownie points. She texted back a picture
which inspired him to get this romance thing down.

Zach went to work. Mable Fay was dry reading
but he trudged through it. Four pages into the chapter, someone
ripped the book out of his hands. Zach grabbed for it, but not
before Harris read the heading at the top of the page.

“Chapter Twenty-Two—The Fine Art of Wooing
Your Sweetheart.” Harris threw back his head and laughed like a
fucking hyena. Then the dickwad dropped into the empty seat next to
Zach. A second later, Derek leaned over the seat in front of
them.

Zach said nothing, just gritted his teeth
and felt the heat rush to his now-exposed ears, wishing he’d kept
his hair long.

Harris wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his
shirt. “Damn, I needed a good laugh after today’s game. Seriously,
who calls it ‘wooing’ anymore?”

“Beats me.” Derek shrugged, even the nice
guy couldn’t seem to stop the smile spreading across his face.

Zach yanked the book out of Harris’s
oversized hand and tucked it under his seat.

“You got problems in the romance department,
Murphy?” Harris tapped his own chest. “You’ve come to the right
place.”

“I didn’t come to you. You invaded my
space.”

“Whatever. I’m the king of romance. Aren’t
I?” He glanced at his cousin.

Derek rolled his eyes. “More like king of
bullshit.”

“Ladies love bullshit. For example, if they
ask you if a dress makes them look fat, you don’t say, ‘Yeah, you
look like a sow about to give birth to piglets.’ No. No. No.
That’ll get you a night in the barn. Right, Dare?”

“That’s what happened to our Uncle Arnold.”
Derek’s smile grew wider.

Even Zach had to smile at Harris. Sometimes
the guy was a pure nut.

Harris sat up straighter. “Uncle Arnold was
lucky he survived with his dick intact. No guy wants to lose his
dick. So you say, ‘Honey, you’re as sexy as hell in that dress, and
I’d love to do you right up against the door of the dressing
room.’”

“You call that romantic?”

“He does,” Derek said. “Seriously, Zach, you
two got married really fast. Did you ever do the flowers,
chocolates, and the sappy words thing? Women love that crap.”

“Uh…not really.” Zach hesitated. He’d never
been much for that stuff, a waste of money, but it was money he’d
gladly spend on Kelsie.

“Oh, man.” Derek slapped his forehead.

“He’s not talking a grocery store chocolate
bar and a handful of daisies. You need expensive chocolates from
that gourmet chocolate place in downtown Bellevue. And roses.”

“Red roses,” Derek agreed. “The more the
better.”

“What do I say to her?” Zach couldn’t
believe he was asking for romance tips from these two clowns.

“Tell her that her hair’s softer than silk,
her smile lights up your life, and your world revolves around her,”
Harris suggested.

All true. Zach could say that because he
felt that way.

“Make sure she knows you think about her
night and day, and you’d rather die than live without her,” Derek
added.

“You guys aren’t very original.” Bruiser,
the worst womanizer on the team, swaggered over. “You gotta be more
poetic.” Bruiser got down on one knee and clenched his hands to his
heart. “Darlin’, you are my warm fire at the end of long day, my
sweet song when I need comfort, and my guiding light when all is
lost.”

The guys started laughing. Pretty soon other
players were pushing and shoving to offer their own advice. Zach
filed some away in his brain as possibilities. Most of it was pure
garbage, but it brought the team together, showed them that the two
captains could get along. He shook his head, realizing he hadn’t
thought of the game once since he’d boarded the plane. He’d been
focused on how to romance Kelsie.

What had she done to him?

He could do this. He could tell Kelsie how
much she meant to him without making a bumbling mess out of it. He
could say what was in his heart without sounding like Bruiser
delivering a line to his lover of the night. He’d make sure the
words came from deep inside, and he hoped like hell Kelsie gave
points for his sincerity, even if the words weren’t perfect.

* * * * *

On Tuesday evening just before 5:30 p.m.,
Kelsie pulled into the practice facility’s parking lot. It was
dark, but she located Zach’s big truck immediately, and she parked
several spots away in an unlit corner, out of sight from anyone
exiting the building.

She glanced around to make sure she wasn’t
being followed by trench-coat man, then realized it was the first
she’d thought of him in a long while. Out of sight, out of mind.
Hopefully, the guy had gone onto other prey. Maybe her ex had
finally given up. She shook her head at her own thoughts. Fat
chance of Mark becoming reasonable.

Popping a chocolate in her mouth, she chewed
slowly. Zach had been behaving so strangely for the past few days,
overwhelming her with roses and yummy chocolates, behaving like a
doting husband, or far worse, a cheating one. Guilt often drove a
man to shower his woman with material gifts when all the woman
wanted was his affection and undying devotion. Kelsie popped
another chocolate in her mouth. Is that what she wanted? Really
wanted? And why did he continue to hide where he went on Tuesday
nights?

She had to know and despite hating herself
for reverting to past devious methods, she reverted anyway. Tamping
down her guilt, Kelsie justified her actions every which way. After
all, Zach had evaded her every attempt to quiz him on his Tuesday
night activities, either because he didn’t want her to know, or he
wanted her to trust him and take his word for it.

Neither reason worked for a nosy woman.

Even though she did trust him. Deep in her
heart, she knew he wasn’t seeing another woman, but her inborn
female curiosity couldn’t let it go at that. When he came home on
Tuesday nights, he seemed so different, even more quiet than usual.
His change in behavior concerned her. If he wouldn’t tell her what
was going on, she’d find out for herself.

After an hour of hunching down in the car
seat, her butt fell asleep, and she had a cramp in her calf. Maybe
the joke was on her. Maybe he’d left hours ago in someone else’s
car. She’d give it until seven. If he didn’t show by then, she’d go
home. A slice of light spilled into the parking lot and caught her
attention.

The side door opened and someone walked out.
Even in the darkness, she recognized Zach’s distinctive, determined
stride. He got in his truck and barreled out of the lot. Keeping
her distance, Kelsie followed. She had an insurance policy if she
lost him. She’d grabbed his phone earlier that morning and
programmed it so she could “stalk” him using her new iPhone’s “Find
Friends” feature. He’d be pissed as hell that she’d gone to such
lengths, and there wasn’t one part of her not nursing some
deep-seated guilt over her deception. She’d come so far from her
mean girl days, yet she’d reverted to the lying and manipulations
when the going got tough.

She just needed to know. That was all. Once
she found out, she’d head home, and he’d never be the wiser. Then
first chance she got, she’d remove her permissions from his stalker
app.

She lost him on the wet city streets when he
gunned it through a yellow light, and she had to stop. The light
took forever to change. By the time she got to the intersection a
few blocks down from where he’d turned, his truck was nowhere in
sight.

Kelsie pulled out her phone and opened the
stalker app. She located him several blocks away and found his
truck parked on a side street in a not-too-desirable section of
Seattle. On one side of the street was a rundown hotel, on the
other a homeless shelter of some kind. Her gut said he wasn’t in
the hotel having a liaison with a woman. Getting out, she stepped
across the street to the shelter.

A man sat slumped on a bench near the door
outside the entryway, a tattered blanket wrapped around his bony
body. He wore a Vietnam veteran’s hat, and he gazed up at her, his
eyes haunted by horrors she couldn’t come close to imagining and
clouded with hopelessness. Her heart went out to him. Kelsie felt
compassion for this man because she knew how desperate she’d felt
not having a home. She dug in her purse and handed him a twenty. He
took it in his scrawny hand, yellowed by some disease and nodded at
her. A hoarse croak sounded from his parched lips. “Thank you.”

“Sir, thank you. For your service.”

For a moment he smiled a toothless smile.
“You are welcome.”

Swallowing back the choking tears and
swiping a hand across her face, Kelsie pushed open the heavy old
door, its glass smudged with a million fingerprints. She wandered
down a long, narrow hall, her heels clicking on the old tile floor.
At the end of the hall were double doors with small windows. She
crept closer and peered through one window.

At the end of decrepit gymnasium stood Zach
in sweats, surrounded by kids of varying sizes, ages, and
ethnicities. He held a basketball in one hand. The kids sat in a
half-circle around him and listened with rapt attention, laughing
at times and smiling at others. Quiet, intense Zach was animated
and enthusiastic. He picked out several of the smallest kids and
directed them to one basket, throwing a ball to them. Then he
placed a hand on a tall boy’s shoulder, handed him another ball,
and sent him and several others to the opposite basket.

The kids lined up, practicing jump shots and
free throws, while Zach and the taller kid shouted encouragement
and suggestions.

Kelsie sank away from the window. Why hadn’t
he told her he worked with homeless kids? Why had he thought she
wouldn’t want to know? Why didn’t he trust her enough to tell her
about something obviously so important to him?