The Matchmaker's Playbook (16 page)

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“You know it’s physically impossible to play one-on-one volleyball against me, right?” I smirked, tossing the ball into the air—once, twice—actually feeling a little sorry for her future loss. Maybe I’d buy her more chocolate, lessen the blow a bit.

“Sure. Okay.” Blake’s face was impassive. I couldn’t read her at all. Was this what her opponents felt like all the time? My eyes narrowed. Not even a blink in my direction, or hesitation. Did she really think she was going to somehow beat me? For one, I towered over her; two, I was a guy; and three, I had balls, and I knew how to use them—well.

“Fine.” I stretched my arms above my head, the ball traveling with me in my left hand. That’s right, I was palming it.

Because I was a guy, and my hands were huge, and I could freaking spike it into her face so hard she’d probably need plastic surgery to get her nose fixed. But sure, yeah, let’s play fair. “You can serve first.”

“My money’s on Blake,” Gabi piped up from a lawn chair.

Lex closed the lid to the grill and pulled up a seat. With a snort, he pointed at me. “You do realize he was nominated for the Heisman, right?”

“Heisman Shmeisman,” Blake teased as she bounced between her bare feet, her boobs joining in with the fun.

“Focus,” Lex snapped.

“I am!”

Or at least I was trying. Really hard. To focus. Damn, they just never got old, did they?

“Twenty bucks says she knocks him out with the first spike,” Gabi said in an amused tone.

“You’ve got yourself a bet.” Lex shook her hand.

They were shaking hands. They were sitting next to each other, and World War III wasn’t breaking out. I opened my mouth to comment just as Lex released her hand and rubbed it on his jeans.

“What? Afraid of girls now?” Gabi sneered.

“Just the ones who may be dudes.” Lex nodded, then directed a pointed look at her crotch. “Hmm, I’m thinking fifty-fifty chance.”

“Don’t put it past me to dump lighter fluid on the barbecue.”

“And burn down your own house?”

“Why else would I take out insurance?” Gabi said sweetly, smacking Lex in the arm, then grabbing his bicep and pinching.

Just kidding. All was right with the world.

“Are you ready?” Blake called.

“Yup.” I tossed the ball into the air. “Service.”

She returned with a simple bump, and I returned with a set. Really, it was kind of silly how slow the game was starting—

One minute, the ball was in the air floating in Blake’s direction; the next, I was on my ass looking up at the sky and wondering if a tree branch had impaled itself in my neck.

“What the hell?” I croaked.

Blake stood over me, hands on hips. “Sorry, do you want me to warn you next time I spike it?”

“Nope.” I grinned. “No mercy, huh?”

“Nope,” she said in the same way I had.

With a coy smile, she offered her hand. I slapped it away and got to my feet under my own power. “Don’t get pissed if I break your face.”

“Likewise,” she fired back, tossing the ball over the net.

“Careful, man.” Lex laughed. “She’s got a strong arm.”

“You think?” I said.

Gabi kept silent. Smart girl.

“What is it?” I asked. “One to nothing?”

Blake blew me a kiss.

“That’s it.” I tossed the ball into the air and spiked it as hard as I could. She returned it just before it kissed the grass, causing the ball to float over the net. Cake. I jumped up to spike it down, but she blocked my shot, causing the ball to fall back onto my side. Quickly I stumbled backward and just barely caught it with my fist, bumping it up over to her side.

I let out a sigh of relief when it bounced on the grass.

“Aw . . .” I winked at Blake. “Next time, sport.”

Her indifference shattered, Blake’s face went from calm to “I may kill you in your sleep, then feed your intestines to the neighborhood cats.”

I took a cautious step back.

“My serve.” Her hips swayed as she moved back toward her side. “Service.”

The ball came careening over the net like a bullet train. I had to dive to get underneath it, and even then it just barely grazed over the net.

We volleyed back and forth three times before she finally tipped it over and scored.

For the next hour, that was exactly how it went. We continued to volley back and forth while Gabi and Lex stuffed their faces. Neither of us wanted to quit, and every time one of us got to game point, the other was right behind. And Gabi said that the winner had to win by two, not one.

It was nearing ninety minutes.

I was hot as hell.

Starved.

And losing by one.

“Concede,” Gabi shouted. “She’s got you!”

“Never!” I jabbed a finger at Blake. “What if I let you win?”

“I’ll know.”

“Hmm.”

“Besides”—she batted those damn eyelashes—“you’re too competitive to lose that way.”

Damn it. I took my stance and waited. So far, all of her serves had been brutal. Come morning, I would probably look like J. J. Watt had bitch-slapped me in the face—repeatedly.

The ball came flying over the net toward my left. I tried to move, but my knee caught, and the aching I’d been feeling for the past few weeks turned into full-blown bone-splitting agony. With a cry, I fell to the ground, my face slamming into the dirt and grass as the throbbing intensified.

It hurt too badly for embarrassment to be a factor. Shit.

“Oh shit.” Lex called, and then he was at my side. “You okay?”

Damn, it hurt. Why did it have to hurt so much? Oh, right. Because I was missing some key tendons and ligaments, and a few metal rods were the only thing keeping my bones in place.

“Ian!” Blake stumbled to my side, her eyes wild with panic. “What happened? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“No, no, no.” I winced as I tried to sit up and stretch my leg out. Normally it was the only thing that helped. Well, that and pain pills, but I refused to take anything I could possibly get addicted to. “I’m fine.”

Blake pulled up my jeans and started running her hands up and down the side of my left knee.

“But”—I cleared my throat—“that makes it feel so much better.”

“Yeah, he’s okay.” Gabi rolled her eyes. “Come on Lex, let’s go get an ice pack.”

“Yeah, Lex.” A smile spread across my face. “Run along.”

He didn’t argue. Probably because he knew I hated it when anyone hovered over me, or fussed, or just extended their concern or pity. It reminded me too much of that day; hell, it reminded me of that week, that month. Thirty days of hospital visits, surgeries, teammates with sad eyes that basically conveyed the truth I already knew, despite the doctors’ optimism. I was done.

I would never play again.

“Here.” Blake pulled her hand away from my knee and stood, then helped me to my feet. “Think you can limp over to the chair?”

I bit out a curse as I tried to put weight on the leg. It was still as sore as an abscessed tooth, but not so much that I was going to have to get it checked out. I’d experienced this type of pain before, when I tweaked my knee during box jumps. I knew it would go away, after an ungodly amount of anti-inflammatories and beer.

Body slick with sweat, I hobbled over to the plastic lawn chair and sagged into it with a sick thud, my legs sticking to my jeans, my jeans sticking to the chair, and sweat still dripping down my back.

Blake kneeled in front of me and frowned. “You need to take your pants off.”

“I’m naked underneath.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“I’m not taking my pants off and making a sweaty ass-mark on the plastic. I’m fine. I swear.”

She didn’t look convinced as she felt my knee from outside my jeans, her fingers lightly touching the swollen spot on the outer left, the spot where bone tended to still rub on bone. Some days, I could swear I still felt it.

Working out probably wasn’t the wisest course of action, but my doctor had said I couldn’t hurt myself worse. That was the good news.
Hey, kid, I know you’ve known only football your entire life, and I might have to amputate, but the good news is, you aren’t dead!

Might as well have been.

“It’s starting to swell.” Blake pressed a little too hard, sending renewed pulses of hot agony up my leg.

A hiss of pain escaped from between my lips.

She winced. “Sorry.”

“Ice pack.” Gabi opened the screen door and tossed a gel-filled blue blob at Blake. She caught it midair and placed it on my knee.

“I’m going to reheat the food,” Gabi said. “Lex ran to the store to get some ibuprofen, since we’re out.”

“Thanks, Gabs,” I called back, the cool pack already easing my searing torture.

“Yup.” The door slammed behind her.

Blake didn’t move from her position in front of me. Her eyes held worry. “What happened to your knee?”

“Easy.” I leaned my sticky back against the chair and glanced up into her pretty wide eyes. “Some cocky topless chick tried to kill me.”

“I’m not topless.” She crossed her arms.

A groan escaped through my lips as my gaze zeroed in on her chest. “I stand corrected.” I reached out and grazed my hand against her bare stomach. “Semitopless.”

“I didn’t mean, what happened just right now, where I literally handed you your own ass.” She sat on the deck in front of me and hugged her knees. “I stopped following football after”—she shrugged—“after my brother. It was too hard.”

“I get that.” I exhaled loudly. “Believe me, I do.”

“So?”

“Can you keep a secret?” I leaned forward just as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. Hah, she was already calling my bullshit. I loved it.

“Yes.”

“I saved the life of two old ladies as they crossed the road. Didn’t even see the cars coming. Did I mention they had cats with them? And I managed to save all four lives. Possibly five, if you count the chicken that was crossing the road at the exact same time. The car ran me over. And well . . . they gave me the keys to the city . . .”

“Wow, just a regular crime fighter, aren’t you?”

I nodded slowly, then crooked my finger. “So here’s the secret part.”

“I’m ready.”

“I’m Superman.”

Her eyebrows shot up as a patronizing smile appeared across her soft features, momentarily stealing my breath away. “Is that so?”

“Cross my heart.” I winked. “Why else would my best friend, also known as my nemesis, be named Lex? I’ll understand if you want proof. My cape’s back in my room. Wanna see?”

“Superman had his cape on at all times.”

“Right. The one I’m currently sporting’s invisible, like my superhuman sight. The only way to unlock your human eyes to my godlike strength is to have sex with me.”

“Hah. And you were doing so well.”

“Hey!” I held up my hands. “I don’t make the rules, sweet cheeks. I’m just a regular run-of-the-mill hero.”

“He really is,” Gabi said. How long had she been standing there? “That poor little boy would have died. Can you imagine what that would have done to that father? After losing his wife? It was amazing, Ian. Don’t sell yourself short. You saved his life, at the risk of losing yours. I still can’t get over the phone call from Lex when he said to get to the hospital. They said you were hemorrhaging, and—”

“That’s enough, Gabs,” I said softly, though something that felt a hell of a lot like anger was burning me from the inside out, making me want to escape. But with a bum leg, all I could do is sit there and listen to her paint me out to be the hero I knew I’d never be.

Yeah. I’d saved that kid’s life.

Yeah. They called me a hero.

But what kind of selfish prick’s first thought after he sees his teammates go to the Super Bowl is “I should have let the car hit him”?

“The drug dealer has returned.” Lex burst into the yard and tossed a pill bottle into my hands.

“Don’t you mean Lex Luthor?” Blake laughed, easing some of the tension. Her hand reached for mine and locked on.

She didn’t let go.

She
should
have let go.

Because something, in that moment, snapped into focus. Even Gabi wasn’t aware of the demons that still haunted me, but something told me Blake was more than aware of what it would be like to lose the very thing that had been holding you together your entire life.

Losing football was more than losing my identity.

Some days, it felt like I’d lost my soul.

“Gabs . . .” Blake cleared her throat. “Is the food ready?”

“Oh!” Gabi shot to her feet. “Sorry, guys, yeah—the plates are inside. You want to eat out here or at the table?”

“Outside,” Blake and I said in unison.

Gabi was silent, like she was examining both of us and about ready to come up with some stupid conclusion about the reason we were both acting funny. Thank God for Lex.

“Woma-an,” Lex growled. “Stop being”—he shoved her toward the door—“you. Just for, like, two seconds. Food. It’s only food.
They
want to eat outside, we let them eat outside. Also, you promised pie. I don’t smell any pie.”

“Correction. I said I’d
buy
you pie, not bake one for you. If you want to marry your mother, just do it, Lex.”

“It better be apple,” he grumbled before the screen door slammed behind him. He returned quickly with both of our plates and whispered under his breath, “I’ll take care of the terrorist, but you owe me.”

“Thanks, man.” I laughed as he disappeared back into the house and screamed, “Stella!”

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We finished our food in silence. The painkillers were starting to kick in, making it easier to enjoy my meal without grimacing every time I shifted my leg. Layered clouds in pinks and reds streamed across the sky.

“It’s getting late.” Blake took my plate into the house and returned with a giant piece of pie.

“I think”—I took the plate from her and basically shoved half the pie in my mouth before finishing my thought—“I may get hurt again if this is the response I get.”

“Hah.” Her eyes homed in on my mouth. “You have some . . . apple . . .”

“Saving it.”

“Then it’s in the perfect spot, Superman.”

“God, I’d kill for a woman to call me that in bed.”

“How about you lie on your bed . . .”

A smile so wide it hurt spread across my face.

“With your clothes on . . .”

The dream popped, and my smile left. I pointed a finger at her. “You’re no fun.”

She smirked. “And when I call you Superman, you pretend that it’s because of your amazing sexual skills and not the fact that you really are a hero.”

“Not a hero.” The pie suddenly went dry in my throat, and I had to work to get it down. “I think that’s the worst part. People called me a hero, still do sometimes. It makes me feel . . . guilty. And pretty unworthy. Here I am, bitter about not being able to play football, and the kid could have died.”

“In a way,” Blake said, her voice just above a whisper, “
you
sort of did.”

I jerked my head in her direction. “What did you say?”

She took my plate and sighed, her shoulders hunching a bit, like she did when she felt nervous or embarrassed. “You lost part of what made you you. That would be like me working my entire life to go to the Olympics for volleyball, only to get hurt the day before the plane was supposed to take off.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed the giant ball of sadness lodged in my throat. “I’ve worked past it, you know? I don’t want you to think I’m one of those broken guys still stuck in the glory days of ‘if only I’d been able to stay in the NFL.’” I shrugged. “I dealt with that particular feeling for one day. When the Hawks went to the Super Bowl for the second time. And then, I was just . . . over it. All of it. I wished I hadn’t saved the little boy, I wished I was a more selfish person, or slower.” I laughed and shook my head.

“What made you get over it?”

I looked up. “He stopped by the hospital that very next day.”

Blake leaned in. Damn, I wanted to swim in the depths of those eyes. She was just so . . . open. “And?”

“I called him by his last name—Montgomery, or Little Monty. He was really little. Apparently still afraid of the dark . . . He, um, brought me his stuffed bear, very smartly named Bear.”

Blake laughed, her eyes filling with tears.

“His mom had passed away from cancer earlier that year. It was the first father-son outing he and his dad had gone on since her death. She gave him the bear exactly twelve hours before she breathed her last breath. He was a guard bear, Monty said, and he was supposed to keep him from being afraid.” I gulped. “He said it was a bravery bear.”

A tear spilled over onto Blake’s cheek.

“He gave it to me, said he didn’t need it anymore because he had me. But that I might need it since I still had another surgery.” I sighed, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. “That damn bear lives the high life in my room, let me tell ya.”

Blake laughed softly. “And Monty?”

“Monty’s going to be one badass football player one day.” I chuckled. “His dad sends me his practice and game schedule. I’ve been to a few of his practices, which basically means his friends think he’s way cooler than he really is. Or so he says.”

“So”—Blake leaned forward—“moral of the story . . . you really are Superman.”

“Hah!” I laughed. “To one person, yes.”

“Two,” she corrected. “And sometimes, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I croaked out. “I think so.”

She moved closer, and I captured her lips with mine as her arm wrapped around my neck. I massaged my tongue against hers, savoring her sweet taste.

The light above us flicked on.

We broke apart like two kids on curfew.

“Guys?” Gabi poked her head out the screen door. “You up for a movie?”

“Sure thing.” I didn’t take my eyes off Blake.

“You think you can make it?” Her lips were still wet from my kiss. I had to look away before I did something stupid. Again.

“Sure.” I stood on my good leg. “I’ll just lean heavily on my badass opponent. I claim rematch by the way.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She pressed her body up against mine as we awkwardly made our way into the house.

Lex yelled at Gabi that she picked the movie last time.

They stopped arguing when we made it into the living room.

“You guys.” Gabi scrunched up her nose. “No. Just not happening. Shower, or no couch time.”

“Gabs,” I whined. “I smell awesome. I always smell awesome. Tell ’em, Blake.”

Blake glanced up at me with guilty eyes. “You smell like . . . grass.”

“Well, you smell like . . . dirt.”

Lex burst out laughing. “Good one, man. You gonna make mud pies later or—?”

I flipped him off. “Fine, we’ll go shower.”

“Not together!” Gabi frowned.

“Don’t worry.” Blake laughed. “I’m more of an archvillain type of girl. Who wants the hero when he won’t even get her dirty?”

I stumbled against her and nearly face-planted the wall with my mouth while Lex howled with laughter.

“You got my number, baby,” Lex called, then started yelping. “Ow, stop scratching me like a damn cat!”

I suppressed a smile. Gabi had most likely attacked him with her nails. She was good with those things.

Blake went up ahead of me. I followed, hopping up one stair at a time and using the railing for help.

I purposely bumped into her once we reached the top of the stairway, and whispered in her ear, “Heroes get dirty too, sweet cheeks. It feels so good it must be bad.”

An erratic pulse beat in her neck as she leaned back against me. Like a heat-seeking missile, my mouth found it and settled there. The ragged throb against my lips gave my body vivid ideas. My mouth was just getting used to the idea of marking her when the doorbell rang.

“Ignore it,” I hissed, my teeth nipping at her neck while my mouth sucked hard. She let out a little moan, her hands blindly reaching behind her. Not that she had to reach or feel far. I was right there with her, hard, waiting, straining against my jeans just to feel her.

“Hey, is Blake here?”

It was David.

Blake froze, her hands slowly returning to her sides.

As I slowly deflated.

And the moment was gone.

“Hey, Blake?” Gabi called up the steps. “David’s here to see you!”

I stepped out of Blake’s way, and with a voice I didn’t even recognize, I said, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Indecision crossed her features, followed by hurt, as she stepped away from me and ran down the stairs.

“What the hell am I doing?” I muttered under my breath, aching for her touch. And not just for the release.

For her.