Line of Scrimmage Read online

  She nearly laughed watching him try to fit his large frame into the small slipper chair, but she was determined to be serious. He finally squeezed his very fine butt in, rested his elbows on his knees, and turned his chocolate velvet eyes on her.

  “So, Erin—” he began.

  “Wait.” No, no, no. She was taking the lead in this. She cleared her throat and let out a slow breath.

  “You said we needed to talk,” she pointed out, “and I completely agree.” Yes, she’d definitely get the upper hand here.

  He cocked an eyebrow, as if surprised she agreed with him. “You do?”

  “Yes. I know exactly what’s on your mind, and I am in complete agreement. This whole thing—last night—was a big mistake. For both of us.”

  Jake’s eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “What?”

  “We both got a little carried away,” she went on. “The party was fun, but I—we—probably had a little too much to drink.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “We had a good time, but honestly, Jake, we can’t do this again.”

  He sat there with his mouth hanging open, a stunned look on his face.

  “Well, really, that was what you planned to say, right? When we had our ‘talk’?” She formed air quotes around the word talk. “And you’d be absolutely right. We needed to get it out there. ‘Last night was great but we need to put it out of our minds.’ Did I get that right?”

  He studied her for a long moment. “What if that wasn’t what I was going to say at all?”

  Erin pinched her eyebrows together. “What? You weren’t?” A funny little wiggle shimmied through her system. Then she forced a smile. “Come on. We both know this wouldn’t work. I just wanted to save you the pain of giving me the ‘It was nice but this can’t go anywhere’ speech.”

  He shook his head. “As a matter of fact, no. That wasn’t what I planned at all.”

  “Oh, come on.” She picked at the fabric of the sheet. “You have plenty of other fish to fry. You’ll never notice the loss, right? Besides, your sister is my friend and how would that work, exactly?”

  “It might work just fine,” he disagreed. The dumbfounded look on his face was replaced now by one of growing irritation. “I don’t get in Ivy’s business, and she doesn’t get in mine.”

  “Besides,” she went on as if he hadn’t said a word, “football season starts in a week, you have a packed schedule and I’m sure a cheerleader at every stadium. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I mean, just because I’m friends with Ivy.”

  “So which is it?” he demanded. “We can’t see each other because you’re my sister’s friend or you think I’d string you along because you’re her friend? Make up your mind.”

  “I have made it up.” She used her best lady-like tone.

  He pushed himself out of the small chair. “As a matter of fact, I was going to suggest we take this slow but see where it goes. Hooking up turned out great for both of us, so maybe there’s something there to explore. And yes, I have a busy fall. It’s all football from August to February. Yes, I have other obligations, but I can work around those, that is if you were reasonable about them—”

  “Reasonable?” she broke in. “Did you just say reasonable?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay, bad choice of words. But damn, Erin, last night was great. I thought we could—”

  Could what? she wanted to ask. Roll in the hay for a few weeks when he could find time and then he’d leave her holding the bag? Not gonna happen. Maybe under different circumstances, but her life was falling apart. She couldn’t risk heartbreak along with everything else.

  “You know it wouldn’t last. At least this way we can part friends.” She forced a smile. “Right?”

  “Friends?” Each word sounded as if he’d bitten it off. “Friends don’t act this way with each other.”

  “What way?” She frowned. “I’m not an idiot here. I know all about hotshot football players and their so-called social lives.”

  “And apparently don’t have a very high opinion of us. Where did you get it, from the gossip rags?”

  No. From her brothers. Worse than that, from past experience. “Come on. I’m giving you a free pass here. Anyway, I have a lot going on in my life right now, too much to be a notch on someone’s bedpost, so let’s just say it was great and let it go at that.”

  “You know nothing about me. Nothing at all.” He gave her a penetrating look. “I’m not who you think I am, but I guess you’re not interested in finding out.”

  “I don’t need to,” she insisted. “Besides, what are you so mad about? I should think you’d be happy I said this for you. Isn’t that what guys like you want?”

  “Guys like me?” Every muscle in his face tightened. “What, do we come with a stamp on our foreheads that says ‘macho asshole’?”

  “No.” She blew out a breath. “But I wish you would. It would make it easier on all of us.”

  “Listen, Erin,” he began.

  She held up a hand. “Just say thank you, take your stuff, and go. There. I’ve made it easy for you.”

  He stared at her, unbelieving, and something flared in his eyes. For a moment, she thought it was hurt, but that couldn’t be right. Then the anger flashed again.

  “You want to toss me out on my ass? Fine. I can take a hint. But don’t expect me to be all warm and fuzzy the next time I see you with my sister. In fact, don’t expect me to acknowledge you at all.”

  He looked around the room, then back at Erin, as if just remembering she was wearing his shirt.

  “You can keep the damn shirt.” He raked his fingers through his gorgeously mussed hair. “Keep it as a souvenir. Besides, it’s probably the only thing that will get close to you with your attitude.”

  “My attitude?” She stared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my attitude. You’re just mad because I got to the point before you did.”

  Golden flecks like tiny flames sparked in his eyes and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Why was he so upset? She’d given him his easy out. He should be grateful to her. It couldn’t be possible she’d hurt his feelings.

  “You know,” he said, his words slow and measured. “Ivy’s talked about you so much I thought now there’s a woman I could get to know. Spend some time with. She’d probably be cool with my schedule during the season. Last night it felt like fate had played right into our hands. I just didn’t realize you had such a stick up your ass.” He shook his head.

  “A stick up my ass?” She rose to her knees, outraged. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

  “Not the same thing.” He gave her a long, hard look. “We could have had something good going here, Erin. I guess now we’ll never know.”

  Then he was gone. Out of her bedroom, out of her house, out of her life.

  Good riddance.

  But when she lay back down in bed, trying to cool her mad down, she couldn’t help rubbing the soft fabric of his shirt against her or inhaling the clean male scent that clung to it. Wondering if, like everything else lately, she’d made a huge mistake.

  Chapter 2

  Jake stood on the sidelines, taking in the sight of all the pregame activity. The first game of the regular season always got his blood really pumping, and he couldn’t wait to get out there. All the players had completed their warm-ups, people on the sidelines with special passes were laughing and high fiving as they waited for kickoff, and music blared over the loudspeaker. Cheerleaders from both teams were doing their thing with loud cheers and high kicks. As the Mustangs squad finished their current cheer, the blonde at the end of the line glanced at him and winked.

  Great. Hadn’t he made it plain enough over the years, as politely as possible, that he wasn’t interested in that kind of connection?

  He knew several of his teammates were into hooking up with the cheerleaders, but that wasn’t his thing. For one thing, he didn’t believe in mixin
g pleasure with his business. From what he’d seen over the years, it usually ended badly. For another, he had always been pretty selective in his dating. There was too much in his past that he had no intention of sharing with anyone. Except… For a brief moment, the image of Erin, naked, flashed into his head, bringing with it a fierce hunger combined, as always, with a surge of hurt and anger. He’d found himself so strongly attracted to her at that party, the chemistry so intense, that he just couldn’t help himself. The night they’d spent together was still imprinted on his brain, every erotic moment of it.

  Anger and irritation bubbled up inside him every time that night flashed back across his mental video screen. The way she’d tossed him out made him grind his teeth in frustration because he had no idea why. He’d sure been mistaken about her if the connection they’d made was only one-sided and meant so little to her. No, it wasn’t, the voice in his head always told him. He wanted to hunt her down, knock on her door, and make her spell it out for him, except then he’d probably have stalker written all over his forehead. And it wasn’t his style.

  Deep down, when the memories slammed into him, he was still convinced they had the start of something good. Obviously she didn’t think so. Okay. The hell with her. He could take a hint, especially one that obvious. Good thing he hadn’t decided to share his deepest, most intimate secrets with her.

  Thank God training camp had started the following Monday and then they were into a full routine. He was more than ready to throw himself into this season and make it his entire focal point. Football defined him. Gave him respect and acknowledgment. Who would he be without that? No damn woman was going to mess that up.

  “All set, Jake?”

  He turned to see the running backs coach had come up beside him. “You bet. The Austin Mustangs are gonna take it all this year.”

  “Good, good.” He looked at Jake. “We all think this is going to be your best year, Russell. The biggest yet.”

  “Hope so. I guess I don’t have too many left in me.”

  And wasn’t that just the pits. Aging out of a game that was brutal in its physical demands was not an easy thing to do. What would he do when that happened?

  “Let’s get through this one before we worry about the next.” The coach tapped his arm. “I know you’ll do it for us out there today, facing our longtime rivals.”

  “You can count on me,” he assured the man.

  The announcer caught his attention, introducing the color guard. Four abreast in full military uniform, they marched to the center of the field and came to a precise measured stop. Next came the local celebrity vocalist and the singing of the “Star Spangled Banner.” Jake never failed to be impressed and moved by the thrill of the moment with every fan standing tall, every player and coach doing the same on the sidelines. The song ended and sixty thousand fans roared in expectation as the referees handled the coin toss.

  Jake fastened his helmet and jogged out onto the field with his teammates. All around him fans chanted, “Jake! Jake! Jake!” He knew they all wanted their so-called golden boy with the magic legs to pull off another long running play.

  Austin had the ball first. The teams took their places at the line of scrimmage, the center snapped the ball, and the game was on. Jake was hyped and in the zone. On the third play from scrimmage the quarterback handed off to him, the offensive line opened a hole, and the crowd got the long touchdown run it was screaming for. He scored and everyone went wild.

  One minute before half time, with the score tied at twenty-one, the quarterback took the snap from center, dropped back, and handed off to Jake again. The crowd was on its feet, yelling and screaming, as he avoided tackles and let the fullbacks and tight ends block for him.

  “Jake! Jake! Jake!” The chant filled the air.

  He was nearly past the entire defense, digging for those extra few yards to a clear stretch of field in front of him, when one of the defensive backs came flying at him and tackled him. Hard. And he was flat on his back, his leg twisted sideways and pinned beneath him, the enormous tackle still on top of him. The crack was so loud he was sure everyone in the stadium heard it.

  For a moment, he was numb, the way he often was when he was tackled, before the sensation of bruising hit. He had no sensation anywhere in his body, as if every nerve from his neck on down had been severed. He didn’t even feel his chest move as he tried to draw a breath.

  I’m fine. Fine, fine, fine. Just had the breath knocked out of me. In a minute I’ll get up, and we’ll line up for the next play. I just hope I didn’t miss the fucking ball.

  Then, in the next second, the numbness fled and that was when it all turned to shit. The most excruciating pain he’d ever experienced slammed through him. He felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker into his leg, the burn racing like wildfire through his body. The nerves that a moment ago might have been frozen now flared hot, like a million fire ants crawling all over him.

  And Jake was suddenly aware that the entire stadium had fallen silent.

  He sensed someone beside him and forced his eyes open to see the left guard who had tackled him. The man had concern and fear etched into his face, an expression that sent fear ratcheting through Jake. He tried to get up and was swamped with such intense nausea he nearly vomited all over himself.

  “Don’t move, Jake,” the guy said.

  But I have to get up.

  Panic gripped him like an icy claw.

  Get up, get up, get up. Don’t be a pussy.

  He struggled to rise, to push himself up from the ground, but pain screamed in every cell and he nearly passed out. Why was someone telling him not to move? Of course he had to move. He had to get up for the next play. But he couldn’t make his body obey.

  He tried to move again, but now the quarterback had come to crouch down beside him and he put his hand on Jake’s shoulder.

  “Don’t move, buddy. They’re on their way out to you.”

  With the fresh wave of pain, Jake knew he couldn’t move if his life depended on it. He knew it was bad. Really bad. He was afraid to look or ask. The first thing he thought of, even in his pain, was Joe Theismann. A severely broken leg had ended Joe’s career when he was at his peak and he never played again. The thought made Jake even sicker. Without football, who was he?

  Football is who I am. Without it I’m just nobody. Worthless. Even less than that. It was a lesson he’d learned in his childhood and he’d never forgotten it.

  Then Coach Raymond was kneeling beside him, the trainer was there, the team doctor, and Jake didn’t know who else. All he knew was now the pain was so bad he thought he might pass out from it. He saw one of the assistants speaking into a radio.

  “We’ll get you fixed right up, Jake,” Coach Raymond said in a calm voice. “We’ll take real good care of you.”

  An ambulance rolled out of the tunnel, and two paramedics nudged everyone else aside. “It’s gonna hurt when we move you,” one of them told him, “so we’ll give you something for the pain. Okay?”

  Okay? Yes. Please, God. And do it now.

  He felt the stick of the needle in his arm, but the medication had barely begun to hit his system before they were doing something with his leg. He clenched his jaw so tightly he thought he might break it, as fierce agony scorched every nerve ending.

  “It’s okay, Jake,” Coach Raymond said. “They’ve got it in an inflated cast so they can move you. In a second, they’ll be putting you into the ambulance. Dr. Moline will meet you at the hospital.”

  Jake could only nod. He hurt so badly he had lost the ability to speak.

  He felt the bumping of the wheels on the concrete of the tunnel as the ambulance rolled out of the stadium. Every jolt sent a fresh wave of pain through him. Then, finally, the pain became too much, and he blissfully, thankfully, passed out.

  * * * *

  “H-How is he?” Ivy’s voice was barely a whisper. She was sure her heart stopped when she saw Jake lying on the fie
ld, the rush of people to assist him, and the ambulance roll out.

  “He’s awake,” the Mustang’s General Manager, Jim DiMarco, told her, “which is always a good sign, although he’s in a lot of pain. The damage is to his leg and we don’t know yet how bad it is.”

  “Is-is it a Joe Theismann injury?” she asked in a hesitant voice. Every football fan knew the disaster Theismann’s broken leg was. If that happened to Jake it would completely destroy him.

  “We don’t know yet. Come on with me.” He waved her into the elevator, killed the Stop button, and pushed the one marked Lobby. “I’ve got a ride waiting. Give me your keys and I’ll have someone bring your car to the hospital.”

  Ivy felt sick to her stomach. Football was Jake’s life. Since the two of them had moved to Granite Falls with their mom to get a fresh start, it was the only thing that had mattered to him. The thing he used to validate himself. No one knew their dreadful family history or how her brother had set himself up as the protector of her and their mother. No matter how many times she told him what an incredible person he was, how he’d been her rock and protector from the time she was a little girl, he never believed her. Nothing mattered to him except football. It gave him the first sense of self-worth he’d ever known, and he clung to it like a life preserver.

  What would happen to him if he lost all that?

  She hadn’t been much for praying for a very long time. As a child, it hadn’t helped, and she’d long ago gotten out of the habit. But now, as they rode silently through the streets of Austin, she prayed hard, afraid to even think about the worst-case scenario.

  She was so lost in thought she didn’t realize they’d reached the hospital until the car came to a stop. DiMarco was speaking softly on his cell phone but he disconnected when she climbed out.

  “I’ll take you right up to where he is,” he told her. “They’ve already x-rayed him, and the orthopedic surgeon will meet us in emergency.”