Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (47 page)

For one thing, there were different shows on
different TV screens—one providing sports analysis, one
re-broadcasting Hutch Hutchison’s controversial show, and the third
following a Mariners game in real time. The bar was manned by one
of the two guys from before, but he had morphed from stuffy
blackjack dealer to sexy sports fan in a black polo shirt that
showcased his considerable muscles.

Yum.

The best part? Gusty’s law-student nephew was
back, circulating among tables with his famous uncle, both wearing
black polos with the Gusty’s emblem, both creating a buzz.

Then the owner spotted Tess and charged over
to her. “You were right! Come work for me. I’ll pay you anything
you want.”

“I want to be a customer, not a worker.” She
settled at a table then leaned back in her chair and admired the
bar. “I could get used to this. Oh . . .” Her gaze fixed on
the third TV screen, where Jonah Zane was warming up in the
bullpen.

It freaked her out, not because of scary
memories, but because there was a huge bandage across his purple,
swollen nose.

So she asked Gusty, “Did Zane get hit by a
wild pitch?”

“The official story is—single-car accident.
But given his reputation, I assume someone punched his lights out.
Probably a teammate,” Gusty drawled. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer
guy, right?”

“You know him?”

“Just rumors,” he admitted. “But even the
announcer made a joke about it. Said Zane probably insulted his own
car once too often and it turned on him.”

Her first thought was Ed must have done it.
But would he put Zone D in that kind of jeopardy?

So just some random guy, which almost made
sense, since Zane was offensive to virtually everyone. Just like
the announcer had implied.

Or was it Sean?

Except she hadn’t told him who did it. And it
was hardly his style.

“Are you friends with Zane?” Gusty lamented.
“I’m always putting my foot in it with you. Sorry.”

“I can’t stand the guy, so no worries.”

“Do you want me to change channels?”

“Not on my account. I really just stopped by
to see how it’s going. And clearly it’s going great.”

“Yeah,” he admitted proudly. “People keep
trying to make reservations for the bar for pre-season games.”

“First come, first served,” Tess said with a
laugh. “This place is gonna rock.”

“Thanks to you. I’m still working on hiring a
woman bartender—”

“Be serious! I like Mr. Muscles over there.
Does he know sports?”

“He coaches high school ball, so yeah. And
his cousin—the other guy you saw that first night—plays for Oregon
State so he’s jazzed about the new format too.”

“I love it.” She squeezed his hand, and then
after a final glance at Zane’s busted face, headed back to
Sean’s.

• • •

Rachel’s talk of salmon had given Tess a
craving, so she stopped at the supermarket, where she also picked
up fixings for Turkey Day, although not the bird itself since Bam
wanted to help pick it out.

By the time she reached Sean’s, he was
already home and back in the storage room in the barn. He had been
mysterious about the object of his search, calling it “a tool of
the trade,” and since she knew nothing about tools—
or
roofing—she hadn’t pressed. Still, she was curious as she entered
the crowded room.

Then she laughed. “No wonder you can’t find
anything in here. What
is
all this?”

“Hey, babe.” He gave her a kiss, then
grumbled, “Yeah, it’s a mess. Mostly Bannerman’s stuff. He dumped
it here so his place would look better when they tried to sell it.
Like he never heard of public storage, right?” He quirked a curious
eyebrow. “How did it go?”

“Hmm?”

“You told Erica you’re taking the two-day
assistant job, right?”

“Oh, remind me to tell you about that.” She
slipped one hand behind his neck. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you punch Jonah Zane in the nose?”

She expected him to draw a blank, but
instead, he used his most adorable look when he asked innocently,
“Was that wrong? Because it felt kinda right.” Before she could
answer, he insisted, “I wanted to tell you, babe. But I wanted to
find the guitar first.”

“The guitar?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been looking for.”
His smile turned guarded. “Are you upset? I didn’t plan on hitting
him. Just wanted to make sure he would stay away from Zone D. Then
he insulted Colbee and it was on. I’m really sorry, Tess.”

“You don’t
look
sorry,” she told him
as she struggled not to grin. “You look pretty good, frankly.”

“Yeah?” He nuzzled her neck. “Thanks for
understanding. I couldn’t just let it go.”

“We’re in this together, Romeo.”

“Yeah.” For a long moment he simply stared
down at her. Then he flashed a smile and said, “We’ll find the
guitar or die trying. And you can tell me what Erica said about the
job. Because if I need to set things straight with Rorsch, too, no
problem.”

• • •

By the time Turkey Sunday arrived, Tess was
exhausted but also exuberant. Despite her crazy daytime
schedule—dashing up to Seattle to reformat the article with Ed the
editor; window shopping with Erica during lunchtime for baby
clothes; advising Gusty on his grand re-opening; and giving endless
pep talks to Victoria—the evenings and nights were sublime, thanks
to Sean’s ability to slow time down almost to a halt.

Everyone offered to help prepare the meal,
but it was clear the guys just wanted to fuss over mama Erica. And
since the point of the exercise was to teach Rachel how to make a
turkey, Tess banished everyone else to the living room and kept the
schoolteacher to herself.

It proved to be a genius move as the two
bonded over recipes while ensuring the prospective mother and her
entourage had relish plates, dips, and a steady stream of
drinks—both alcoholic and non. Tess heard all about the
house-hunting with Darcie, including Rachel’s dream house on the
lake. As predicted, the elderly widower who had insisted he’d never
sell because it held memories of his wife had weakened when he met
the kindergarten teacher.

“I just love it,” Rachel said with a sheepish
smile. “It’s so charming. So timeless.”

“It sounds like a dream house,” Tess
admitted.

Rachel’s attention had shifted to the
perfectly roasted bird. “Shouldn’t someone carve it? Sean, right?
Even though Johnny’s the QB?”

“Definitely Sean,” Tess agreed. “But it’s
still too warm. Let’s give it a few more minutes.”

“The aroma is killing me, Tess. It smells
almost as good as Erica.” The schoolteacher’s denim-tone eyed
twinkled. “Do you think that’s her natural scent?”

“It’s Chanel No. 5,” Tess drawled. “My mom
wore it for years. Then my sister doused herself with it for her
wedding. I’d know it anywhere.”

Rachel hesitated, then picked up her phone
and typed out the single word: KITCHEN. Then she showed it to Tess
before sending the text.

As they watched, fascinated, Erica gave them
a surprised but cooperative glance, then extricated herself from
her devoted servants and joined them.

“What’s up?”

“You’re so decadent,” Tess teased her. “Next
they’ll be peeling grapes for you.”

Erica giggled. “I’ll make it stop soon. Next
week maybe.” She eyed the turkey. “Do you need some help? I can
mash potatoes.”

“Spare us,” Tess drawled. “We just want one
piece of information. Then you can go back to your love
slaves.”

Rachel’s eyes twinkled. “Tess thinks you wear
Chanel No. 5 perfume. True or false?”

“I never wear perfume,” Erica assured
her.

Tess winced. “That’s your natural scent? Wow,
I stand corrected. Sorry.”

The prospective mother leaned forward. “I
don’t wear perfume. Just dusting powder. And yes, it’s Chanel No.
5. You have a good nose.”

“Dusting powder?”

“It’s a trick I learned in college. Much more
subtle and it blends with one’s natural scent.
Please
don’t
tell Johnny. Or the other guys.”

“Why would we tell them? It’s hilarious that
they worship you for your God-given fragrance.” Tess eyed the men
in the next room fondly. They were trading insults and laughing
while catching up on the scores on
SportsCenter
. It was
tempting to join them, but it really was time for Sean to carve the
turkey. And for Tess to enjoy watching him do it.

• • •

Two full hours of eating later, when Bam
patted his stomach and proclaimed the meal a success, Tess was
almost too tired to care.

What a week . . .

Still, her heart swelled when another round
of compliments poured in. And while she deflected some praise to
Rachel, she knew she had outdone herself. For Bam, for Rachel, for
the McSpurlings.

But mostly for Sean.

Bam stood, raised his wineglass, and beamed
down at her. “Here’s to the Colby family recipe. You were right.
It’s almost as good as Mom’s.”

She pretended to glare. “Almost?”

“It’s the best,” he admitted. “So are you.”
His tone turned sentimental. “We waited for you, you know. Now
you’re here. The last piece of the puzzle. So here’s to you,
Bammie.”

As the men raised their wineglasses, and
Rachel and Erica sipped sparkling cider, Tess tried not to spoil
the party. It was such a sweet toast. So heartfelt. But still
. . .

The last piece of the puzzle?

Was that all she was?

She didn’t need to be the best. The
brightest. The most beautiful or most fragrant. But to simply
complete the picture? To fit in rather than carve out a place for
herself?

Shaking it off, because Bam was Bam and she
knew how he really felt about her, she raised her champagne flute
in her own toast. “To the Triple Threat.”

But Bam wasn’t done. “You saved us, Bammie.
You know that, right? Deck was ready to quit the team for Kerrie.
Maybe even quit football forever.
That’s
how bad it got. And
it tore our guts out. But you saved us. So you’re right. To the
Triple Threat. And brotherhood. And the best babes in the world.
Forever.”

Everyone drank to the moving toast. Everyone
but Tess. Because to Tess it made no sense.

Sean almost quit the team? Almost quit
football?

For Kerrie?

More toasts followed. To Baby Aaron, even if
he turned out to be a girl. To the house on the lake, which Bam
insisted was in the bag since “the old dude” couldn’t resist
Rachel’s charms. To a repeat of the Lancers’ Super Bowl
victory—again in the bag according to Bam and echoed by the big dog
and Sean.

Tess did her best to play along even though
Bam’s toast echoed in her brain.

Sean almost quit football for Kerrie.

What could it possibly mean?

To her relief, her guests didn’t want dessert
right away. And since Erica honestly looked tired, Johnny insisted
on taking her home, so their share of pie went with them. After
that, Sean and Bam took over dishwashing under Rachel’s guidance,
and Tess was banished to the sofa for a few minutes of rest.

She needed it.

Sneaking out to the patio, she tried to
imagine any set of circumstances that would make Sean quit
football. He was at the top of his game. He loved it. More than
anything, he loved his team. His brothers.

The Triple Threat.

Maybe that’s the key,
she told herself
calmly.
Everyone says Kerrie wanted him to herself. Wouldn’t
socialize, especially with Erica. So maybe she wanted to avoid
Lancer games for fear she’d run into Erica.

Of course, Kerrie could just stay home,
couldn’t she? Watch the games on TV then praise Sean later? She had
a reputation for being unreasonable. Almost comically so. But why
would Sean turn his back on the game he loved—the team he
loved—just to placate her?

Unless he really,
really
loved
her.

The thought made Tess cringe. It had all
seemed like such a joke. Such a comedy of errors. Twin sisters
competing for a sexy, clueless kicker. A married woman who got off
on quickies in motel rooms. Who actually wanted to have her
virginity restored so Sean could deflower her like God
intended.

“Tess?” Rachel asked in a soft voice.

“Oh, hey.” She turned to smile at her guest.
“You guys were sweet to do the dishes.”

“Are you exhausted? Sean just told me what a
week you had. I mean . . .” She touched her shoulder gently.
“You actually sold an article to
Sports Illustrated?
Even
I’ve
heard of them. What a coup.”

Tess wanted to assure her it was all good,
but was it? Because it all led to the same place.

Sean.

Without thinking, she asked, “When Bam said
Sean almost left football for Kerrie? What did he mean?”

Rachel’s pretty brow knitted for a few
seconds. Then she seemed to understand. “You probably think of Coz
as the
ex
-coach of the Lancers. That’s true now, but back
when we first met Kerrie, Coz hadn’t been fired yet. Which meant
Sean was dating his coach’s wife. Which is apparently the worst sin
in all of football.”

“Got it,” Tess murmured, hoping Rachel
couldn’t sense the knot in her stomach. Coz Cosner? The coach who
had taken the Lancers to the Super Bowl?
He
was Kerrie’s
husband? No wonder Sean couldn’t be seen with her in public. No
wonder Johnny and Bam had so vehemently opposed the romance.

And no wonder Sean almost left football for
her. What choice did he have? Coz Cosner had a reputation as a jerk
who rode his players’ coattails to victory, but he was still their
coach. Which meant, his wife was off-limits.

“Thanks, Rachel. It must have been so awful
for them. Not just Sean but Kerrie too. I feel awful for her.”