Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (33 page)

“He’ll be in a cage, right?” she began, then
she saw the twinkle in his eyes and asked in relief, “We’re not
giving him the gate code or anything, are we?”

“Nope, he’s on his own after this.”

“Then let’s do it. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah.” He brushed his lips over hers.
“Sounds like we’re good.”

“We’re great,” she agreed, slipping her hands
behind his neck. Then she pulled back enough to tell him shyly,
“You don’t have to ask anymore, you know. We’re
always
great.”

His eyes widened, then he murmured, “Good
deal,” and moved in for another kiss.

• • •

She needed to write the Sean portion of the
article. Not only was she embarrassed now, but her complimentary
suite expired in three weeks, and while she could easily afford to
pay for more weeks out of her own resources, there were other
factors at play. The job with Erica, for one. If she decided to go
for it, she might consider finding an apartment in Portland. Which
led to factor number two.

Sean.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to the
raccoon send-off party, deciding she should bake sugar cookies and
also pick up some gluten-free, dairy-free goodies just in case. For
the chicken wings, she had always known she’d go back to Gusty’s to
mend that fence, so this was the perfect excuse. If the blustery
owner behaved himself, she’d buy three dozen prepared wings and
give him some quick bartending advice. If not, she’d buy a gallon
of sauce and call it what it was: a failed experiment.

To her relief, the big dumb guy welcomed her
with a warm smile and apologetic tone that struck just the right
chord. “Thanks for the second chance, Tess. I can’t believe I put
my size fifteen in my mouth that way. And with a classy girl like
you. I’ve been kicking myself ever since.”

“Lots of guys have that prejudice. Including
my own father and brother. But
you
need to wise up if you
want a successful sports bar. I mean . . .” She eyed him
teasingly. “It
is
a sports bar, isn’t it? Not a morgue?”

He burst out laughing—a good sport for sure.
Then he followed her into the bar area, which was semi-deserted.
Behind the bar were two bow-tied men who appeared to be polishing
glasses for no apparent reason. On a stool at the end of the bar
was a hunky-looking guy who was focused completely on the screen of
his laptop. From his well-worn Raiders jersey and faded jeans, she
guessed he was a longtime Gusty fan hoping to score an
autograph.

“We need to liven this place up,” she told
Gusty as they parked at a small table. When a cocktail waitress
hurried over, Tess ordered the chicken wings to-go and a diet root
beer, then waited for her to leave before saying, “Do you see the
hypocrisy? That beautiful woman is okay to serve drinks at the
table but not at the bar? Why?”

“Say no more, Tess. You’re hired.”

“Oh, please. You could never afford me. Plus,
I’m retired.” She flashed a reassuring smile. “Your current guys
are adorable, but they look like blackjack dealers. So again, how
does that say sports bar? They never look at the monitors even
though there’s a replay of an amazing grand slam
right
there.”

Gusty winced. “I told them not to watch the
games. Or the programs.”

“But they’re sports fans in real life?”

“Definitely.”

“Well then we’re halfway there. How about the
stud at the end of the bar? You should hire
him,
no
questions asked. He’s got the look.”

Gusty laughed. “You mean my nephew? The law
student?”

Tess laughed too. “Look at us, building an
empire together. Sign him up.”

Gusty turned toward his nephew and shouted,
“Yo, Kirk.”

The stud ambled over, his smile adorable.
“Hey, Uncle Gusty. What’s up?”

“This is Tess. The girl bartender I told you
about. Sean Decker’s girlfriend,” he added ominously.

“Oh, man,” Kirk murmured. “I can’t believe my
uncle called you—well—”

“A skank?” She laughed. “It’s a common
mistake. Because sports bars are about energy. Excitement.
Camaraderie. Not sex in particular, but seriously,
everything’s
about sex, so we need to be realistic,
right?”

The two Gustersons nodded warily.

“You’ve got all the right ingredients, but
it’s dead in here. Why? Because there’s no game on. Worse, even
when there’s a
clip
from an amazing game, it goes
unnoticed.”

“
I
noticed it,” Kirk insisted.

“And I
noticed
you noticing it,” she
assured him. “Which is the key to success, since being in a sports
bar is the ultimate team sport. So you’re hired. And you need to
teach the two stiffs to watch clips the way you do. Get into the
games. It shouldn’t be hard because let’s face it, that was a
killer play, right?”

“One for the record books,” he agreed
enthusiastically. Then he chuckled. “You want me to tend bar for my
uncle? I’m in law school, Tess.”

“Cry me a river,” she advised with a laugh.
Then she cocked her head to the side. “What kind of law do you plan
on practicing? Please say sports law.”

“What else?” he said without hesitation.
“Why?”

“I’m writing an article about college
athletes and NCAA rules and I could use some input if you don’t
mind.”

Gusty broke in with a blusterous, “Anything
for you, Tess. Just tell us what you need.”

Pleased, she told him gratefully, “I need
three dozen chicken wings with your famous barbecue sauce. And a
crash course in players’ rights in the NCAA.”

• • •

Since she had the gate code and Sean had left
a key, she baked cookies at his house, then rushed back to the
hotel to shower and change into gray yoga pans, a blue Lancers
jersey, and her blue X-Calibers. By the time she returned, Sean was
already home and walked over to her as he munched on a cookie.

“Hey, babe. These are great.”

“Good.” She kissed him lightly. “How was
practice? You didn’t kick the ball too far, did you?”

“Nope.”

Finishing the cookie, he pulled her into a
hotter embrace. Then he said cheerfully, “I thought about you
today. A
lot.”

“Me too.” She stepped back, trying not to
seem so giddy. “I should set out the food. Heat up the wings. But
maybe later . . .” Her tone turned husky. “We could try that
Tantric thing again if you want. Once your company leaves.”

When he seemed confused, she realized he
didn’t actually know what “Tantric” meant, so she laughed and
explained. “That first night. On the McSpurlings’ deck. When we
almost got it on telepathically.
That’s
Tantric. And
technically within buffer rules.”

He eyed her in surprise. “You said that
didn’t happen.”

“Because you made it sound like it was
my
idea. When we both know
you
started it.”

“Tantric, huh?”

“It’s an ancient technique. And maybe we
won’t be able to do it again, but—oh! Is that the raccoon at the
gate?”

Sean laughed. “Hard to believe he can work
the key pad with those claws, right?”

“Claws?” She shook her
head, only half kidding. “What did you get me into, Romeo?”

Chapter
Ten

To Tess, the biggest surprise of the evening
was how Sean naturally became the leader of the group. It made
sense, given his background as a quarterback, but she had only seen
him in a group setting with the Triple Threat, where the pecking
order was already established.

Not that he led this group in the dynamic way
Johnny would. Under Sean,
everyone
was relaxed. Low-keyed.
Yet folks instinctively adopted his pace, and even the veterinarian
ran things by him, kept him informed, subtly reversing roles to the
point where Sean was giving
him
pointers on animals.

Especially horses.

At one point, she realized she wasn’t just
admiring him, she was evaluating him as potential boyfriend
material. And not
buffer
boyfriend material either.

Meanwhile he made it clear to the vet
students where Tess fell in the hierarchy by draping his arm around
her shoulders as they traded stories about Stretch the raccoon in
preparation for his release. Then they all trooped down to the edge
of the woods, where they said their good-byes. Stretch had been
sedated for the van ride but seemed alert for his big moment as the
video camera focused in on him. And even Tess, who honestly had no
idea what she’d do if a wild animal even
glanced
at her, had
to appreciate the way the critter handled himself.

No fear, no urgency. He kept his distance,
but also took his time, finally disappearing without fanfare,
leaving the students to murmur among themselves then head back to
the house, where they descended on Gusty’s wings like locusts.

• • •

When they were alone again, Tess stared in
delight at the gift Sean handed her.

Jaws
on DVD.

“Wow, I still remember the first time I saw
it.” She pulled him to the sofa, then sat and snuggled against him.
“Friends of my parents loaned us a vacation place in Newport, so
the plan was to swim—nonstop—unless Dad was taking us on tours of
campuses. That’s his thing,” she added with a fond smile. “I was
seven years old. And up till then I had enjoyed an innocent
relationship with the ocean. Then my brother rented this video and
it changed my life.”

“You never went in the ocean again?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” she asked teasingly.
“What about you? Did you see it as a kid?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“Oh, right. Farm-boy mentality.” She kissed
him to show it was a compliment. “Let’s watch it.”

“What about the Tantric thing?”

“I’m already too scared, so maybe another
time.”

Shrugging to his feet, he put the disk in the
player, then walked back slowly as though he had a question. Or
maybe he just wanted another cookie.

As it turned out, it was both, since he
detoured to get the whole plate, then came back to her, insisting,
“These are the best.”

“Thanks.”

“So? You were terrified of the ocean but you
went to school in Hawaii? All the way from the East Coast? What was
that about?”

Oh, God . . .

She had forgotten he didn’t know the story.
But it tied into her two favorite subjects—“living in the moment”
and bartending, so she would just keep it light, avoiding the
pitfalls she had stumbled into with Johnny about her dad, her
grades, and her woe-is-me attitude as a teenager.

All that aside, it was actually pretty funny,
wasn’t it?

“It’s fair to say I went to college to get
away from my family, even though they’re absolutely the best ever.
Almost
too
good. They slathered me with love like a mama cow
drools all over a little calf, right?” When he laughed at the farm
image, she laughed too. “My parents are college professors, and
they believed the best thing they could do for their children—me,
Jill and Brett—was helping us get into the best possible college.
Ivy League if possible. But Dad was cool about giving us options,
so he always said we could pick any school we wanted, anywhere in
the world, cost be damned. It was the most important decision of
our lives and he would back us up one thousand percent.”

“Nice. My old man had a more practical
attitude. Go to a state school. Period.”

“Like the shoes? I respect that,” she said
solemnly. “Anyway, my brother was the oldest, and he chose first.
Actually, I think he chose
in utero
. Yale undergraduate,
Harvard med.”

“That’s confidence.”

“Brett definitely has confidence,” she
drawled. “And the brains to back it up. His grades and test scores
were astronomical. Plus, he always did the extra credit, so they
were literally off the scale. And of course, he did all the
leadership activities and chess club and volunteering. If he was
awake, he was sprucing up his college application. If he was
asleep, he was dreaming about it. The perfect Colby,” she added
fondly. “Mom and Dad were in heaven. Then Jill came along. Just as
smart. Just as great a student. Maybe a little mellower, but still
a rampant overachiever. She wanted Yale undergrad too, then law
school somewhere prestigious. We knew she’d get it. She deserved
it.”

Sean eyed her dourly. “If you’re about to
tell me
you
weren’t smart, don’t bother.”

She touched his cheek. “I
love
me, so
don’t worry. My ego was fine. My grades were good. My life was
amazing. The problem was, my siblings set the bar so high. Gave Dad
everything he ever dreamed of in a student. So if I got a B-plus,
they staged an intervention.” She paused while Sean chuckled. Then
she told him bleakly, “You think I’m kidding, but they were always
checking my homework. If my class read
Moby Dick
or the
Scarlet Letter,
the whole family re-read it so we could
discuss it at the dinner table.”

She took a deep breath, reminding herself to
keep it light. “They finally faced facts. I wasn’t going to Yale.
Not even the Yale School of Lock-Making, right? So we started
touring small but prestigious campuses in New England where Dad had
colleagues who could get me in then keep an eye on me. But Mom
thought I should try something different, so she pushed a European
agenda. France especially, since at that point we still thought I
was good at French. Not that I could get into the Sorbonne, but
something more modest.”

“Did that appeal to you?”

“Not at all. And my sister
really
hated the idea, so she took me aside and begged me to stay in the
States so she could jump in her car and drive to wherever I was at
the first sign of trouble. And I realized that was exactly what I
didn’t
need. Jill and Brett riding up like the cavalry every
time I got a C on an exam.” She paused to banish the frustration
from her tone. “That’s how I realized Hawaii was the school for me.
And the rest is history.” Relieved, she snuggled against him again.
“Let’s watch the movie.”