CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEY WENT STRAIGHT TO JOE’S again. The hostess seated them at a table near an open window that looked out on a side street. Tourists walked up and down the street, headed for the beach and shops. Sabrina ordered pasta—she figured she’d expended enough energy to warrant some serious carbs for a change—and a glass of wine. Mal got a burger and some fries. They were talking about nothing important, typical chitchat about how nice it was with a soft breeze blowing in and how much they were looking forward to their food, when Mal stiffened. His gaze locked on the front of the restaurant.
She couldn’t turn to see what was going on as she touched his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Before he could answer, the hostess led a group of men over and seated them at a table for six nearby. They were wearing Army uniforms, and her heart ached for the pain seeing them was causing Mal.
“Do you want to go?”
His gaze slewed to her. “What?” He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. They’re Ranger recruits… Chris was a Ranger. I don’t see those where I live, you know?”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make things better.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I know you do, sugar. You’re a sweet girl.”
She tried not to let that comment sting. After all, it was a compliment… even if it was a generic one.
“Hey, are you Malcolm Hughes?”
One of the Army Rangers had walked up to the table and was gazing at Mal.
“Yeah, I am.” Mal let her go and stood to offer his hand.
The soldier shook hands with Mal and turned to the others. “Told you it was him. Dude, loved that pass you caught against Dallas in the championship game. That rocked.”
“Thanks.”
The other guys got up and came to shake Mal’s hand one by one. She worried for him, for how it made him feel, but he was a professional. He chatted with them easily, signed a few autographs. The guys expressed sorrow over his loss, their expressions growing solemn. It hit her that they understood, more than anyone, what kind of sacrifice Chris Hughes had made for his country.
Soon the guys went back to their table after giving her a polite nod and a “ma’am” and shaking hands with Mal one more time. Mal looked disquieted as he sat. Sabrina wanted to go to him and wrap her arms around him, but she was frozen in place. He wasn’t hers, and she didn’t know if he’d welcome it. Not here in public where everyone was watching them. She was a hookup, not his girlfriend.
“Do you want to leave?”
He met her gaze, his own troubled and dark. And then he shook the clouds away, and she was looking at the same old Mal as before. He even winked at her.
“No way, darlin’. We need to get your strength up for the rest of the night.”
The food arrived while she tried to figure out what more to say. They were silent while the waitress set everything before them and asked if they needed anything else. When she was gone, Sabrina hesitated. She was starved, but she was more worried about Mal.
He looked at her evenly. “Eat, Sabrina. I’m okay.”
She nodded and then twisted her fork into the creamy pasta. It was heavenly, of course, and she nearly moaned when the flavors exploded on her tongue.
“Damn,” Mal growled, and she opened her eyes to look at him.
“What?”
“I was reminded of that moment in the shower.”
She knew which moment. The one in which he’d told her he was coming and she’d only sucked harder. She’d taken everything he had to give her.
“There can be more moments like that one,” she said softly, her heart thudding a bit faster than she expected.
His eyes gleamed hot. “I’m counting on it.”
They finished their food, and then Mal took her hand and led her down a side street to the beach. It was surreal to be here with him when only a few days ago she’d been here for an entirely different reason. She hesitated when they stepped onto the sand.
Mal stopped and turned to her. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s, well… I don’t feel the way I should, I suppose.”
He frowned. “How’s that?”
She pulled in a breath. “Sad. I should feel sad, but I don’t.”
He stepped in close and put his arms around her. “Does that mean you’re happy?”
She lifted her arms to his shoulders—those broad, broad shoulders—and smiled. “Yes, I think I am.”
She wouldn’t be when she had to leave in two days. That fact hung over her happiness like a malevolent cloud. She felt far too much, far too soon, with this man. She wouldn’t call it love because that would be crazy, but she wished they weren’t running out of time. That maybe they were just starting to see each other and they had time to find out where it went.
But where could it go? She was a waitress from Nashville, and he was a famous football player who lived in San Francisco. It wasn’t like she could move to San Francisco—God, if she could barely afford her rent now, imagine that city. Besides, she wasn’t leaving Nashville. Her dreams were there. Her friends were there.
“You deserve to be happy,” Mal said.
“So do you… Are you sure you’re okay? I know seeing those men had to be hard.”
He lifted his head and blew out a breath. “Yeah, it’s hard. All I do is play football and they treat me like I’m special. I’m the one who should be thanking them for what they’re willing to sacrifice. They’re the special ones.”
“You did thank them. And they are special. But so are you, Mal.”
He dropped his gaze to hers.
She tumbled on. “You make a lot of people happy with what you do. Some guys look forward to football season like it’s the best part of the year. Some of them hate their jobs or their lives, or maybe they’re sick or injured and don’t move so well. Watching you gives them something to cheer about. You make them feel what you feel when you catch a pass or win a game. That’s pretty special, you know. You give something to people that they wouldn’t otherwise have. You should be proud—and yes, it pays you extraordinarily well. That means you can do things with your money that others can’t.”
He was staring at her as if she’d grown another head. Then he took a step back and pulled her down onto a low concrete wall beside him. She sat for several silent minutes, watching the sun sink into the gulf and wondering what Mal was thinking.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “About the money. I give to charity, but I could do more. I could set up a scholarship in Chris’s name, or I could help wounded soldiers and their families. There’s so much I could do.”
She squeezed his hand. “I think that’s a great idea. Help people in his name.”
“I’m sure I would have done that eventually. But I haven’t been able to think of him as really gone. I keep expecting to pick up the phone and hear him, or turn a corner and see him. I know that won’t happen. He’s gone, and it’s like a hole… there’s something about being a twin that’s indescribable to other people. There’s grief, and then there’s a sense you’ve lost part of yourself. I can’t bring him back, but I can make sure he’s never forgotten.”
Sabrina held his hand and didn’t speak. They watched the sun set and the sky turn orange and purple. The waves rolled into the shore, and people strolled up and down the beach, basking in the beauty of the day.
“You ready?” he asked after a long while.
“Yes.”
He held her hand as they strolled toward where he’d parked his car. Her heart beat fast, and adrenaline rushed through her veins. She felt like she’d hopped onto a roller coaster, and she had no idea when it was going to stop.
The only thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want it to stop, especially when he turned to her and pressed her against the side of his Tahoe, his big hands on her waist, his leg coming between hers and pushing them apart. The pressure of his thigh against the most sensitive part of her was exquisite, and her breath caught.
“You make me feel good, Sabrina. You take away the pain, at least for a while. I’ll never be able to thank you for that.”
She put her hands on his face, cupped his hard jaw. “Yes, you can. You do it every time you kiss me.”
He pressed his mouth to hers then, and the heat inside her flared hot and bright, scalding her.
Two days. That’s all she had left… and she was going to make the most of them.