Running Interference (6 page)

She exhaled. “Your father hasn't said a word to me about this.” But she was definitely going to be saying something to him.

“I don't wanna go.”

“I don't want you to go.” She ground her teeth.

Between Tyler's two kids and her sister Tori's three, Tanya had five nieces and nephews. Out of all of them, Jace was the one who needed to be watched out for the most. He'd never gained much ground after his premature birth and he was vulnerable to teasing. How was she supposed to keep an eye on him when he was in Chicago? The problem was … “As much as I don't want you to go, though, I'm not your mom or dad. What happens after the divorce is a decision they have to make together.” For the rest of their lives, because they were stupid enough to become dependent on each other in the first place.

His head hung, and she lifted it with a finger beneath his chin. “Listen to me. Your mom must have her reasons for wanting to move. And maybe she's just exploring options. We don't know what else was said. You really need to talk to her. You're a good kid and a smart kid, Jace. Be honest with her, and she'll be honest with you. Maybe she'll take your opinion into consideration.” Tanya hoped.

He straightened, and a small smile managed to infiltrate his slow nod. “Thanks, Aunt T. You're the best. You always know what to do.”

Yeah, but that didn't always mean it worked out. She knew what to do about the gym now—at least she thought she did. But there were no guarantees.

The bottom line was sometimes you just had to explode off the line and absorb the blows. Jace was a Martin. He would learn that. And it would make him stronger, wherever he went.

Right now, he needed to go home and talk to his mom, so she could get to football practice and then talk to Cam.

“How ‘bout I give you a ride?” she asked.

After dropping Jace off, she made it to Carroll with ten minutes to spare. Cutting it close, but not late. She was feeling rather invincible when she trotted out onto the field. A good hard practice would clear her head and help her prepare to face …

Cam.
Standing next to Coach Howl.

“What the hell?” She stopped, blinked, and tried to think of one good reason for him to be here.

“That looks like Cam,” MJ said.

“That is Cam!” Jillian whooped. “Did you tell him to come to practice?”

“No,” Tanya said. “I told him to meet me at the gym.”

“Maybe he got confused.” Jillian ran ahead.

“Confused my ass.” That was a pretty ballsy move to show up and start chatting with her coach. What was he up to?

MJ patted her on the shoulder pads. “Maybe he just misses football.”

Could that be it? Seriously? If she were in Boston for a month, missing football, she wouldn't just waltz into a Patriots practice and strike up a conversation with the coach. Of course, she wasn't the Super Bowl MVP, and women's football wasn't universal like men's was, but still. She exhaled. What were her options? Confront him. Tell him to leave. Neither was going to help her case when she asked for his help later on.

He saw her approaching, and he smiled. It seemed genuine. Maybe he was just curious about women's football. Maybe he had come to see her.

That last bit rattled her, but she couldn't deny the vibes she'd gotten at the school and then on the phone. When she was friendly with him, he took it and ran, crossing over into something almost flirty. She swallowed. And when she sort of flirted back, he looked happy. A happy man would agree to her plan for the gym.

She smiled back—even gave a little wave. Oh God, she was going to go to hell for this, wasn't she?

“Team, we have a surprise, special guest. I'm sure he needs no introduction, but just in case some of you have been living under a rock the last couple months, let me introduce Super Bowl MVP and New England wideout Cam Simmons.”

Hoots and hollers all around.

She did her best to look excited despite the swarm of butterflies battering her gut.

“Are you going to work with the wide receivers?” Jillian asked.

“I came to watch.” He looked right at Tanya.

Ha! So he wanted a show.
Let's go!

But Coach had other ideas. They spent the first seventeen minutes of practice working on basic blocking. There was nothing flashy about blocking drills that most guys had done when they'd been kids playing Pop Warner football. Frustrating! Still, whenever she caught a glimpse of Cam, he looked impressed. Lots of smiles thrown her way. Maybe he was surprised women could hit like this.

Eventually—and with more than a few self-reprimands—she stopped thinking about him being here and focused on getting the most out of practice. When she finally made it to the sidelines for a drink, he was waiting for her.

“Pretty impressive,” he said.

“For girls, huh?”

“For anybody. I'm thinking you could put a lot of guys who are bigger than you on their ass without even trying.”

She laughed. “Then you better not piss me off.”

He got quiet, and then he grinned. “You've put me on my ass before. From what I remember, it's not a bad place to be.”

Her face flushed. Flustered, she bent slightly to drop the water bottle into the holder only to miss completely.

Cam bent too, righting her wrong, and then looking up at her when their faces where inches apart. Damn butterflies. Her lips twitched, and the sparkle in his beautiful brown eyes told her he was feeling something similar.

This was not okay. This was not neutral. This was … playing right into her ultimate plan.

She straightened. “You're still going to be at the gym at nine, right?”

He nodded. “You bet.”

“Good. We can talk.”

But if they kept acting like this, what were the chances she could keep it at that?

• • •

At the end of practice, Coach Howl snagged Cam. “You're welcome back anytime,” he said. “Maybe we can even get you involved. The ladies seemed to get a real kick out of having you here.”

He'd enjoyed it too. He'd come out of boredom and curiosity, but the sound of pads popping, whistles blowing, and coaches yelling coupled with the smell of turf and sweat gave him enough of a football fix, he would consider coming back—if it was okay with Tanya.

“I'll definitely think about it, sir. Thanks for the invitation.”

Instead of heading out after Coach wandered off, Cam hung around until the field cleared and he was alone except for a couple guys cleaning up orange cones and water bottles. He wasn't exactly waiting for Tanya. He just didn't want to leave the field. It was a sickness, one he hoped they never cured.

A straggling football stood between him and the exit. Walking by it without acknowledging it was unthinkable, so he bent and palmed the pigskin. His massive hand stretched the length of leather. Something satisfying fizzed in his chest when he tucked the ball into the crook of his arm. Like holding a baby. Not that he knew anything about holding babies, but the fierce feelings of pride and protection had to be similar.

He spun. He juked. His feet knew the drill. Lighter than air. Quicker than sound. The end zone called. He did it over and over again until he broke a sweat.

He had no idea how long he'd been at it before a voice called out, “Hey!”

He pivoted and saw Tanya dressed in street clothes with a red scarf wrapped around her head. Big gold hoops dangling from her ears. A football gypsy.

“They shut the lights off at nine,” she said with a smirk. “Thought you should know that before you start tripping over those fancy feet in the dark.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. I was just … ” he glanced at the ball, “getting my fix.”

“I get you.” She dropped her duffle bag and clapped her hands. “Here.”

His grip tightened, but then he tossed the ball her way.

She collected the underhand pass at her knees and smirked again. “You don't have a QB bone in your body, do you?”

“I wasn't trying.”

“Whatever you say, superstar.” She slapped the ball and took two steps back. “Go long.”

He grinned. “How long?”

“As long as you think I can handle.”

Was that a trick question? If he underestimated her abilities, he'd never hear the end of it. “I don't know if I'm qualified to make that guess. You know, it's been awhile.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I know how long it's been.”

Something in her smoky voice told him they weren't talking about football anymore.

“End zone,” she said. “All the way, baby.”

She was full of it. There was no way she could throw a fifty-yard pass. But she knew that. She was playing him. And when it felt like this, he didn't mind being played.

“How about red zone?” he asked.

“If that's all you can handle.” She shrugged, but she was grinning.

Tanya slapped the ball again, and he was off, powering his legs like a piston, pumping his arms like they were wings, inhaling, exhaling, and feeling more alive than he had in weeks. He kept his eyes on the twenty-yard line.
Almost there.
At the last possible second, he broke to the right, lifted his arms and turned his head. The ball hit his hands, and he cradled it to his chest.

When he reached the end zone, there were cheers. Tanya was flanked by two of her teammates: the tattooed, enthusiastic wide receiver, and the cool glass of water QB.

“Not too bad,” Tanya yelled.

He jogged toward them. “I was about to say the same thing about you.” He pointed at the QB. “Better watch your back or she'll have your job.”

Tanya shook her head. “MJ's arm is a million times better. Besides, I'd rather hit people.”

No doubt. She was good at knocking people for a loop, and the minute he thought it, she gave him a look that said, “Brace yourself.”

“So … ” she glanced at the women on either side of her, “a slight change of plans. We're hungry, so we're heading to Mama Mary's. Would you like to join us?”

Why wasn't he surprised she'd found a way to run interference on what was supposed to be their night to talk?

He smiled at the group of women who appeared to be in on something. “That's cool,” he said. Could be fun. Would sure as heck be better than sitting around his mother's empty house waiting for her to get off work.

“T-bird, you want to ride with me?” he asked.

Her mouth opened just a bit, and he wondered if anyone around town still called her by the nickname he'd given her freshman year. He sort of hoped not.

Something flashed in her golden eyes.

He expected a flirty quip like the ones she'd been handing out like candy the last couple days.
Baby, I never disappoint.
So far, that had been his favorite. Funny, he didn't remember her being much of a flirt before. Not that he was complaining. He liked the twist to the way they teased each other. Even though he wasn't exactly sure what it meant.

“Jillian drove, and I'm her GPS,” she said.

He nodded. Why argue? Whatever she was up to, she would stop at nothing to execute it. That was classic Tanya, too.

“Then I'll follow you,” he said. It was probably better that way. If he had her alone in his car, and they carried on like they had been, he might end up taking some liberties, which could backfire if he was misreading her. Super Bowl MVP with a black eye? He had no idea how he would explain that one away.

Yep, he needed to think about this. He just hoped a thirty-minute drive was long enough to get his head on straight. Because one thing hadn't changed since high school: Tanya Mary Martin was just as damn confusing as she'd always been.

• • •

The entire ride over to practice, Jillian had sworn up and down that Tanya's plan to stroke Cam's ego into submission was fool proof. “You can get a guy to do anything as long as you stroke him hard enough,” she'd said. Leave it to Jillian.

Of course, when Tanya had detailed her plan in the locker room, MJ had been less enthusiastic. “This is going to backfire,” she'd said, and then suggested they all be together when Tanya sprung her idea to save the gym on Cam. Safety in numbers and all that. Because apparently MJ worried about flirty things going down between Tanya and Cam, and she still wasn't sure Cam could be trusted.

What a mess! But if it saved the gym, then it would be worth it.

She walked into Mama Mary's and glanced behind the bar, happy tonight was her mother's night off. She didn't need that added pressure. Aunt Grace would make enough of a scene.

“Oh, Lordy!”

Speak of the devil.

Aunt Grace scurried over to Cam and smacked a noisy kiss on his lips. “Now I can go around telling everybody I've kissed a professional athlete.” She fanned herself.

Tanya laughed. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

“More!” said the middle-aged woman in a hairnet. “That boy's got lips that don't quit.”

For some reason, that made him pucker up and lean a little closer to Tanya. Not enough to be obnoxious, but enough to have the laughter lodging in her throat.

Her gaze locked on his beautiful mouth and heat crawled across her skin.
Man!
MJ might be right. This little plan was going to backfire. Hard.

“Where do you kids want to sit?” Aunt Grace asked.

“The big booth,” Tanya said. She needed room to breathe.

Cam slid in first on the left side, so she went to the right. Face-to-face was better than side-to-side, wasn't it? MJ slid into the booth beside Cam, and she told herself to relax. Everything was under control.

Aunt Grace reached across the table to set out cocktail napkins. “What can I get you?”

“Miller Light,” Cam said.

Tanya looked at his mouth again, which wasn't completely unreasonable considering he was talking. But then he stopped, and she couldn't seem to.