Not Another Bad Date (12 page)

She might have laughed or cried or kissed his neck if the sound of voices hadn’t penetrated her sexual haze and instantly doused the hot lust burning deep in her stomach. She reached for her sweater and purse, and Zach pulled her into a stall as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“He’s in my math class,” a teenage voice spoke. “He’s kind of cute.”

“He’s hot.”

“He asked me out. Do you think I should go?”

Zach held her purse as she shoved her arms inside her sweater.

“I don’t know. His girlfriend’s Sara Lynn Miller.”

“She’s ugly.”

“Yeah, you’re cuter.”

The sound of running water drowned out the girl’s voices as Adele put the ends of her sweater together and zipped it up.

“Someone left their hat in here,” one of the girls said as the water turned off.

Adele glanced up into Zach’s face. He stared straight ahead as if could see through the door. His expression stony.

“It’s a Cougars football hat. Only the players wear these.” There was a pause and then, “Who’s number twelve?”

Zach handed her her purse and closed his eyes as if someone should just go ahead and shoot him.

“I don’t know.”

“How did it get in here?”

Good question.
Adele opened the stall door and closed it behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her white bra where it had fallen on the white tile floor. She hung the purse on her shoulder and moved to the sink toward two girls dressed in cheerleader outfits. She hoped they didn’t have to use the bathroom and notice her bra.

“Thanks,” she said, and plucked the black-and-green hat from one of the girl’s hands.

“That’s yours?” the girl asked.

“Yep.” Adele shoved it on her head and turned on the water. As she washed her hands, she looked through the mirror at one of the girls, who wore way too much eyeliner.

“Only the football players have those hats.”

And the coaches.
“This isn’t one of the player’s hats.” She turned off the water and tore off a paper towel.

“It sure looks like it.”

“It’s similar.”

The girl with the eyeliner chewed her gum thoughtfully. “Where’d you get it?”

From the guy hiding in the last stall.
She shrugged. “Internet.”

“Oh.”

They stared like they wanted to argue more, but in the end they gave her Kendra’s favorite “you’re so gay” look and walked out of the bathroom.

“Coast is clear,” she said as she tossed the paper towel into the garbage. The soles of her sneakers squeaked on the tiles.

“Zach?”

He didn’t answer, and she pushed the stall door. He sat on the back of the tank with his booted feet on the seat. His forearms rested on his thighs, and his hands dangled in front of his knees. “That was fucking close.” He looked up at her through his turbulent brown eyes. “You still think nothing is going to happen between us?
Ever?
”

No, she wasn’t sure. Not at all. “We stopped.” Which she could admit to herself was a pathetic answer.

He pointed to his right. “I was seconds away from getting you out of your pants and nailing you against that wall.”

She shook her head. “I doubt things would have gone that far.”

“Who was gonna stop me?” He dropped his hand. “You?”

She liked to think so, but she wouldn’t swear on it. “Clearly there are unresolved issues between us,” she said, striving to sound rational and make sense out of something that made absolutely no sense at all.

He raised one brow. “Unresolved issues?” He stood, and she took a step backward. “I’d call what’s between us good old-fashioned lust.” He hung a wrist over the top of the stall. “’Course, I’m just a dumb jock.”

“Zach, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I called you a dumb jock.”

“I’m sorry I called you a cock tease.”

A frown wrinkled her brow. “You didn’t call me a cock tease.”

He smiled. “No?”

“I’m not a tease!”

He leveled his brown gaze on her. “Then run along out of here before I make you prove it.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. She moved toward the door and walked out into the empty hall without looking back.

She tossed her purse on the table in the small entry and moved to the kitchen. She’d lost her bra while kissing Zach in the girls’ bathroom. How had it even happened? One second she’d been in control, and in the next she’d lost it. One second she’d told him that she didn’t want to be with him, and in the next she’d told him her bra hooked in the front.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Pepsi. She’d waited for the curse to kick in and turn him into a freak who repulsed her. But for the first time in three years, the curse hadn’t zapped anyone.

The one time she’d actually counted on the curse, it had let her down. With Zach. The last guy on the planet she should be kissing and touching. Especially in the girls’ bathroom at Cedar Creek High. She should feel appalled and embarrassed, and she did feel those things. But probably not nearly as much as she should.

Not nearly as much as she felt the urge to smile.

For three long years, she’d believed she lived under a curse. Tonight, the curse hadn’t shown up and turned Zach into a jerk. Maybe that meant it was broken. Perhaps there was a finite number of bad dates, and the curse had run its course. Or there never really was a curse at all. Either way, for the first time in a long time, she dared to feel free. Dared to hope that maybe the nightmare she’d been living was over.

Adele moved into the baby’s room and pulled Zach’s hat from her head, setting it on the desk next to her laptop. She dared to hope that Joe wouldn’t turn into a jerk Saturday night when she went out with him.

She liked Joe okay, the little that she knew of him. He was kinda cute in a cowboy-redneck sort of way. The kind of cute you’d see in a John Deere ad. Along with his Southern accent, he seemed to have nice Southern manners, too.

That next Saturday night, over beef fajitas and a pitcher of margaritas at El Rancho Restaurant and Cantina, Adele discovered that Joe Brunner did have nice manners. He held the door for her and helped her on and off with her jacket. Mostly though, she learned that Joe loved three things. High-school ball. College ball. And pro ball.

“That game made history,” he said, referring to a game he’d played at Virginia Tech. He’d picked her up at eight, dressed like a lot of other guys from west Texas, in a beige Western shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, new Wranglers, and a pair of Justin’s. A straw cowboy hat covered his brown hair. “You live in Boise right? They have a good program up there in the WAC.”

Despite his obsession with football, she also learned that he really was a nice guy, and she felt like a horrible woman because she kept comparing him to Zach. He wasn’t as tall or handsome, and when she looked at him, she didn’t go all weak like she seemed to do when Zach was around. Which should have been a point in Joe’s favor.

Several times during the course of dinner, Adele attempted to change the subject from football. Not only because she wasn’t a fan, but because the subject brought her thoughts back around to a certain retired quarterback. And when she thought of Zach, she thought of her shameful behavior in the girls’ bathroom. And when she thought of her shameful behavior, her stomach got tight, and her skin got all hot.

“Tell me what you do when you’re not coaching,” she’d asked Joe as she rolled up her first fajita.

“I own the Whistle Stop Mart.” His light green eyes looked into hers across the table, and he smiled. “It’s not very exciting, but I make good money selling gas and potato chips.”

When he smiled like that, she could almost forgive him for being such a ball fanatic. “Do you like it?”

“I do. It has its challenges. Not like coaching though. I love coaching.”

Clearly. “Who won the game last night?” she asked, giving in for the moment.

He paused in the act of eating and looked at her as if she had a single digit IQ. “Cougars. Didn’t you go?”

“I had to work.”

The topic changed to her writing for a few minutes, then Joe mentioned that he read books about sports, mostly football. Of course.

By the time Joe handed the waiter his credit card, Adele had caught a tequila buzz. Which helped dull the pain of so much football. “Didn’t you have a girlfriend you dated for quite a while in high school?” she asked, still making an effort.

“Yep. Randa Lynn Hardesty. She was a cheerleader.”

Figured. All ballplayers dated cheerleaders, didn’t they?

The waiter returned with the check, and Joe calculated the tip and signed the receipt. “And my first wife.”

“First wife?” Adele reached for her coat and slid from the booth. “How many have there been?”

“Just two.”

Just two?

He stood and helped her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “And you’ve never been married, right?”

She shook her head and looked up at him. “Clearly, I’m a slacker.”

After dinner, Joe drove her home and held her hand as he walked her to the front door.

She wished she felt something. Even a little of what she’d felt when Zach put his hands on her would have been nice, but it just wasn’t there. “I had a great time tonight,” she said, and shoved her free hand into her coat pocket. “Thank you.”

“I had fun too. Maybe we can go out again.”

“Maybe, but with my sister being in the hospital, I’m really busy.” She remembered her date with Cletus, and she held her breath, waiting.

Joe smiled and squeezed her hand. “I understand. With coaching and everything, I’m really busy, too. I don’t have a lot of time to date. So, the next time I have a free night, I’ll give you a call. If you’re free, too, we can grab a bite again. No pressure.”

She felt such relief that she fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and give him a big hug. He hadn’t turned into a jerk like Cletus. Maybe the curse really was over. “I’d like that, Joe.”

“Good.” He dropped her hand and turned to go. At the bottom of the steps he stopped and looked up at her. A smile still curved his lips as he said, “I imagine that you have some good-lookin’ girlfriends.”

She thought of her friends in Boise. “Yes.”

“It’s not even ten. Why don’t you call ’em up, and we can all party at my house. I’m in the mood for a skin sandwich.” He rocked back on his heels, and said, “I’ll provide the meat.”

Joe looked so miserable, Zach figured it was best not to laugh at his friend. “Did you say ‘skin sandwich’?”

The defensive coach nodded and took a drink of his Lone Star. “I’m pretty sure.”

But there was only so much a man could hear before he burst out laughing. It bubbled up from his chest and shook his shoulders. He had to set down his Pearl to keep from spilling beer in his lap.

“It’s not funny.”

From where Zach sat, it was funny as all hell. And a load off, too. Joe hadn’t so much as kissed Adele, and he was fairly sure there wouldn’t be a second date between the two of them.

“I hadn’t even been thinking about a threesome, and then I just opened my mouth and started going on about it. It was like something took over, and I had no control.”

Unfortunately, Zach knew the feeling, and his laughter died. Where Adele was concerned, he obviously had no control either. Just thinking about his loss of control scared him. Anybody could have walked into that bathroom while he’d had Adele up against the wall, his hands on her bare breasts, his hard-on pressed into the hot crotch of her jeans.

Not only did his lack of control scare him, it shocked him to the core. In his life, he’d enjoyed some fairly wild stuff, but he’d never put himself or his reputation at risk. He’d always kept control. Always called the shots. Been very careful not to create a scandal, and he didn’t even like to think about what would have happened if the football coach had been discovered going at it in the bathroom by a couple of high-school girls.

“I’ve never had a threesome,” Joe grumbled as he took another drink of his beer. “You probably have.”

Zach shrugged. “They kind of lose their shine after a while.”

“I don’t think I can ever face her again.”

There was no way Zach could avoid Adele. It just wasn’t possible. Tiffany and Kendra were friends and on the same dance team. They were bound to run into each other again.

Unresolved issues.
He reached for his beer as Denver scored a touchdown on a fifteen-yard drive. That was one way of putting it, he guessed. He thought about her standing in that bathroom, her pink nipples pressed into his palms, and figured there was only one way to resolve those “issues.” And it didn’t involve avoiding Adele and walking around with a constant hard-on.

After the game was over, he showed Joe the door and made dinner for himself and Tiffany. He grilled chicken, tossed a Caesar salad, and warmed up a loaf of artichoke bread he’d picked up at the local deli. His daughter was unusually quiet, and he asked her if there was anything wrong.

“No.” She shook her head and played with her salad. He really didn’t believe her, and it wasn’t until the following Thursday morning that she finally let him know what had been on her mind.

“I have my first dance competition this Saturday,” Tiffany reminded him from across the table in the breakfast nook. “I’m leaving for San Antonio tomorrow after school.”

Of course he knew. They’d talked about it all week. “I wish I could be there, sugar bug, but you know I’ve got the Amarillo game in Lubbock that day.”

She stirred her cereal and sighed. “I know. Not everyone’s parents can go.”

Zach took a bite of a toasted bagel with cream cheese and wondered if she was purposely trying to make him feel guilty. Or rather, guiltier.

“Kendra’s family can’t go. ’Course that’s because her momma’s in the hospital, and her aunt has to stick around in case of an emergency.”

“Tiff, you know I’d go if I could.”

She nodded, and they ate in silence for a few more moments before she said, “I’m thirteen.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Old enough to go to dance competitions without you.”

“That’s right.” His guilt eased a bit as he slathered strawberry jelly on his bagel.

“Old enough to pack enough money and make sure I don’t miss the bus home.”

He took a bite and chewed. “Yep. You’re old enough to do a lot of grown-up things.”

“And old enough to wear makeup?”

He swallowed. “What?”

She looked up at him. “Daddy, everyone at school wears makeup.”

“No.” The thought of his baby all tarted-up with rouge horrified him. “You don’t need makeup.”

“Just a little bit?” she wheedled.

“No.”

“If Momma were alive, she’d let me.”

That was probably true, but it wasn’t an argument that swayed him. “Honey, you’re pretty without it.”

“You never let me do anything the other girls do!”

“Now, that’s not true.”

“It is! Last summer you didn’t let me go to the fair with Lyndsy Shiffer, and everyone but me got to go.”

“That’s because Lyndsy’s momma does most of her parenting from a barstool over at the country club.”

“She wasn’t going to be drinkin’ that night.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tiffany stood. “I hate my life! I want my mother. She’d understand!” She turned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

Zach stared at the empty stairway, then lowered his gaze to the bread in his hand. What the hell had just happened? Was Tiffany really that upset over a little mascara and lip gloss? It wasn’t as if those things were really important. Nothing to get all worked up about.

He finished eating, then loaded the dishwasher. He didn’t even pretend to understand teenage girls. They were so…emotional. He shoved his car keys into his pocket and headed upstairs. He’d given Tiffany a good fifteen minutes to cry whatever was bugging her out of her system. It was time he took her to school.

He rapped his knuckles on the door as he opened it. Tiffany lay on her stomach in the middle of a big pink confection of a bed surrounded by pillows and stuffed animals. Cinderella’s castle was painted on one wall, complete with horse-drawn pumpkin carriage. The room had been designed for a little girl, not for the teenager sniffling under the gauzy pink canopy. The teenage girl who thought she was old enough to wear makeup.

Tiffany raised her head as Zach walked across the room. “I miss Momma,” she whispered.

Zach glanced about at the many photographs of Devon in the room and sat down beside his daughter. “I know you do.” He reached for Tiffany’s hand and played with her silver ring. “But she isn’t here, and I’m trying to do what I think is best.”

Tiffany rolled onto her back and pulled her hand from his. “If Momma were here, I could talk to her about girl stuff.”

“What stuff?”

She shook her head. “Just stuff I can’t talk to you about.”

“You can talk to me.”

She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“I know lots of girl stuff.” Which he figured was true, although his experience was more with big-girl stuff.

She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling. “There’s just stuff you won’t understand.”

“Like makeup?”

“Yeah. And…”

“And what?”

“Why all the other girls at school got their period, and I don’t.”

“Whoa.” Zach shot to his feet, and he heard ringing in his ears.

“See.”

He sat back down and felt heat creep up his neck. “You can talk to me about that stuff.”

“Um-hum.”

“No, really.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. There wasn’t a damn thing he knew about girls and their periods. Except maybe that they got bitchy around that time. God, he’d never thought about when girls should get theirs. He didn’t want to think about it now. Not about Tiffany. “So, all the other girls, huh?”

She looked over at him, his little girl who was trying so hard to grow up yet wasn’t ready to give up her Cinderella bedroom. “Dad. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No. No, this is good.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Are you worried that there’s something wrong with you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, we can take you to see a doctor.”

“No!” She shook her head, and her cheeks turned pink.

“Okay. You can always call one of your grandmothers and ask them about it.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Maybe.”

And because he felt so totally inept, so totally guilty for being out of his league, he said, “And maybe you can wear a little lip gloss. Light pink.”

“And some mascara.”

“A little.”

“And eye shadow. Blue.”

“Good God, no.” The thought of his little girl tarted-up in blue eye shadow horrified him almost as much as the thought of her cheeks caked in rouge. “The next thing you’ll want is your nose pierced like that bull we saw at the fair last summer.”

She shook her head. “Oh, Daddy.”