-9-
KAYLA
Jay’s grip on my arm was a vise. I stumbled along the pavement and spun out of his hold, whirling to face him on the sidewalk.
He put his hands on his hips, and my traitorous gaze lingered over the forearm porn he was displaying. He had such gorgeous arms. Too bad they were attached to the body of a man who went to Michigan. His expression was hard to read. Was he pissed at me? Relieved we’d left the bar where I’d nearly suffocated breathing such vile air?
The last comment someone had yelled out was haunting me.
“Why would Michigan’s football coach care what you do?”
Jay’s forehead knotted when he frowned, and he followed it up with a sigh.
Oh, no. I banded my arms over my stomach and bent at the waist, suffering an invisible punch to my core.
He’d looked familiar, but I hadn’t placed him. I knew he played football in high school, but didn’t ask if he continued in college. Part of me, on some level, had already figured this out and refused to accept it. I’d trained myself over the years to tune out all things Michigan-related.
“No,” I whispered, talking to the universe rather than Jay.
“Hi.” His voice was brimming with fake enthusiasm. “I’m Jay Harris, number eighty-eight for Michigan. Can you help me find my ass? I hired a detective, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
I limped over to the edge of the sidewalk and sat, planting my butt on the curb. I stared vacantly across the way at the train tracks running parallel to the road which looked like they hadn’t seen a train in years. Too bad. I would have hopped one to escape if it’d rolled by right now. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The road was quiet, other than the buzz of bugs in the grassy field beyond the tracks. Footsteps came closer, and he dropped down to sit on the curb beside me, stretching his long legs out while leaning back on his arms.
“What’s your deal?”
My eyes fell shut. “My dad used to coach defense for OSU. My mom gave birth to me right after a game, in the stands. Everyone in my family eats, sleeps, and breathes Ohio State.” My eyes blinked open and I gazed at him. “We bleed red.”
“Newsflash for you. Everyone bleeds red.”
“You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
He exhaled loudly, and his warm breath floated across my face. He was too close. His eyes were too blue. “Kayla. You liked me five minutes ago. You liked me enough to track me down here.”
All true, but it didn’t change the fact his reaction to the Michigan fight song The Victors was wildly different from my own. Just the opening strains of it made my stomach roll.
“Dammit, Dave!” I said, cursing my friend’s new husband who wasn’t even here. “He knows how much I hate Michigan. I should have figured out something was up when he told me I was going to love this place.” I was wound up from the tension in the bar, and my anger was all over the place. On top of it, I was struggling with crushing disappointment. I had really liked Jay. “You sure you don’t maybe play for Michigan State?”
It was a joke, but filled with hope. MSU was the lesser of two evils, and right now, I’d happily take it.
“Afraid not,” he said dryly. “Come on. You’re going to give up on me just because of the school I go to? That’s lame.”
Again, there was truth there, but there was also no way things would ever work between us. We’d lost The Game last year, and . . . oh, God. He’d said his number was eighty-eight. He was the tight end who’d caught the last touchdown. Jay had delivered the final nail in the coffin in the remaining seconds of the heartbreaking game. My mother had wandered the house the rest of Thanksgiving weekend shell-shocked.
I stood and dusted the dirt off, preparing to leave, but he got up too. He was so freaking big, not just in size, but in presence. A lot of the male cheerleaders on my squad spent more time in the weight room than anywhere else, so I was used to big. But Jay was a heck of a lot more than muscles and broad shoulders. There was a force-like gravity to him. It was hard to resist his pull, especially when I felt it on every inch of my body.
My traitorous body.
“See you around.” My voice wavered when I didn’t want it to.
“Oh, hell no. You’re not getting off that easy.” His expression was stern. “Let’s get a cup of coffee or something.”
I shook my head. What was the point?
He must have distracted me with those blue eyes because he was abruptly right in front of me, so close if I took a deep enough breath, my breasts would brush against his chest. The thought was dangerous and wrong. So why did I consider doing it?
“You just got me kicked out of my favorite bar,” he added. His tone was final and non-negotiable. “You owe me.”
His gaze slid down from my eyes and lingered on my lips for a long moment. Alarm seized me. Holy God, was he going to kiss me again? Tingles of anticipation washed along my skin, but in my head it was all conditioned disgust.
He went to Michigan. No, worse! He was the starting tight end for their shitty football team. And I’d put my lips on his. My mouth knew what his tasted like, and how good he was with his skilled tongue. He’d had his hands on me. The same hands that had scored touchdowns against my beloved team.
There was a sensation of falling, except there were no arms to catch me. Only the hard, unforgiving ground rushing up to meet me. I was weak. He made me cloudy and disoriented.
“Okay?” His voice dropped low, and concern flashed in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was asking me to agree to coffee or checking on my status. I simply nodded, unable to find words. Jay looked satisfied. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, and lights flashed on a black car nearby as he unlocked it. “All right, let’s go.”
He opened the passenger door for me. I reluctantly climbed in and sat on the edge of the seat like I was surrounded by broken glass. I also glanced hurriedly around. What if someone saw me, an Ohio State cheerleader, getting into a car with a Michigan football star?
It was the most ridiculous thing ever. I’d been recognized on campus only a handful of times, and now we were in the Toledo strip. No one would recognize me here. The strip was a band of no man’s land on the border of our states that separated Ohio State and Michigan fans. It was a lawless, maddening place of chaos.
We didn’t talk during the short, tense drive to an all-night diner. It was like a Denny’s, only sadder, and it matched my mood perfectly. The waitress led us to a booth, dropped two sticky menus down, and disappeared with barely a word.
“I’ve got to ask,” he said. “What was the plan when that guy started talking smack about the cheerleaders? You were gonna go outside and rumble?”
“Yeah, we were totally going to rumble. And after, I’d do an angry choreographed dance to help me get my feelings out.”
He leaned back and propped an elbow up on the seat. He was so comfortable and confident. “Do you need to do one now? Because you kinda look pissed.”
“I am pissed. I liked you. You seemed like a nice guy.”
His gaze went to the ceiling for a moment, then returned to me. “And because I play for Michigan, that means I can’t be a nice guy?”
“No. Not for me.”
The waitress reappeared. Jay ordered a cup of coffee and frowned when I said I didn’t want anything. The waitress seemed just as annoyed. Good to know I was an equal-opportunity irritation.
“Humor me,” he said. “If you had showed up and Biff’s had been an Ohio State bar, what would have happened?”
It was hot under his intense stare, and it felt like he could see deep down into me. I’d run some scenarios in my head on the drive up here. A few of them had even ended with an invite back to his place. But no way in hell would I accept one now. “We’ll never know, because that dumb bar is named after an even dumber stuffed wolverine. Which, by the way, is creepy as hell.”
The waitress plunked down a bowl of creamers and poured a cup of coffee for Jay. I watched his long fingers fish out several sugar packets, tear them open, and dump them in his cup, followed by two creamers.
He had beautiful hands. Large, and powerful looking. God, it was so unfair.
“Here’s what I’m thinking would have happened.” His spoon clattered against the ceramic mug as he stirred, but his gaze stayed on me. “I’d buy you a drink, get your number, and we’d talk for a while. When it got late, I’d walk you to your car, and then I’d kiss the shit out of you.”
My pulse quickened.
“Like I did on Saturday,” he continued. “Remember when I told you that was halftime? We’ve still got a whole other half to play.”
Football metaphors. So cheesy, and yet it totally got to me. “That break was way too long to call halftime.” I regretted it instantly because I’d just engaged with him. Opened a hole for him to slip right through.
Jay smiled widely. “Okay, give me a delay of game. It’s not the first time I’ve drawn a penalty.” The spoon was set aside, and he leaned forward on the table. His voice went soft and seductive. “You can set me back five yards and make me try again. You should know, though, when I want something, I’m driven as fuck.”
The conviction in his eyes made my mouth go dry. Beneath the table, I crossed my legs, squeezing back the rush he gave me. It was the combination of all of it. The word that got me thinking about sex, the way he equated kissing me to a touchdown, and of course, his delivery. The idea of kissing Jay again was so very wrong, and yet the wrongness kind of turned me on.
Shouldn’t it be more proof I should walk away? And who the hell was I? Thinking about kissing a guy from Michigan? My mother would die from the betrayal. I tore my gaze away from him and stared at the ugly tabletop. “Never going to happen.”
He made a noise that sounded like, “We’ll see.”
He picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip, but set it down quickly. “Wow, you made the right call. The coffee’s gross. Not end-of-days tofurkey bad, but pretty awful.”
“Then I guess there’s no reason to stay,” I said. “You can take me back to my car now.”
“Not yet. We just got here.” He gestured to my purse. “Do you have a pen in that duffle bag there?”
Okay, so maybe my purse was a little on the large side, but I liked to be prepared, and my big bag made that possible. Besides holding all my woman stuff, like makeup, I had athletic tape, wet wipes and pretty much an entire first aid kit inside. And . . . a pen or two. My gaze narrowed. “Maybe. Why?”
He grinned. “I figure you want my autograph.”
I gave him a flat look, telling him just how hilarious I thought his joke was.
“You know why I want a pen.” He leaned back and smoothed a hand down his t-shirt. My gaze followed its path, even when I didn’t want it to. I was sure he’d done it on purpose, giving me a hint of how toned his chest was, dragging my focus lower. “If you won’t give me one, I’ll just ask our server, but I figured this was faster.”
If faster meant we could leave sooner, I was all for it. The longer I sat across from him, the more desensitized I was becoming to thinking of him as number eighty-eight for the enemy. He was rapidly morphing into a regular, normal guy. One who looked so handsome, it almost hurt. I rummaged around until I found a pen and slid it across the tabletop to him.
He freed a napkin from a roll of silverware and scribbled on it. “Your dad coached defense, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents still together?”
Why did he want to know? “Yes.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
The pen continued to scratch at the napkin. Was he writing a novel? Finally, he clicked the pen closed and straightened, as if admiring his work. His attention drifted back to me, waiting on my answer.
“I have a younger brother.”
Jay folded the napkin, but didn’t hand it to me. “Does he play football?”
“What’s with the interrogation?”
“You’re the one making it that way. I’m trying to have a conversation.”
Anxiety built with every passing moment, yet he seemed to grow calmer. More confident. He was like me, who usually flourished under pressure.
“Yeah,” I said, refusing to be beaten. “Cooper plays football. He’s a tight end like you. Only, unlike you, he’s not that good.”
Jay’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m good?”
Warmth crept over my cheeks at my slip. I’d just implied a Michigan football player wasn’t awful. My stomach was queasy. “I mean, I assume,” I lied. “You have to be, to play Division I football. I’m doubting your pretty face is what makes you a starter.”
Oh, no. His smile went next-level. “Awe, you think I’m pretty, Kayla?” Seduction poured from his expression. “I’m nothing compared to you.”
The booth was getting smaller with every breath I took. It was starting to feel intimate. How much worse was it going to be when I got into his car? Maybe I’d walk the two miles back to Biff’s in my heels just to avoid the situation.
I glanced around the empty diner, studying the dingy tile floor that seemed like it hadn’t been mopped this decade, but it didn’t matter where I looked. I could feel his unwavering gaze on me.
“All right.” His deep voice forced my attention back to him. His expression was matter-of-fact. “I’m going to cut the bullshit. You’re hot. Fun. Probably smart, although not so much right now. I’m not too bad either. Quite a catch—at least, my mom tells me I am.”
My breath caught in my lungs. “Your point is?”
“I think we should try this. The rivalry thing? It’s one little detail.”
“Little detail?” He was delusional. Most of Ohio didn’t care if OSU’s record was one-and-eleven as long as that one win was over Michigan.
He held out the napkin, waving it like a white flag. “My number. I wrote it twice, because I’m not fucking it up a second time.”
Besides his full name, he’d scrawled two matching phone numbers, and then a third number—eighty-eight. Like an autograph. I looked at it with disdain.
“We’re not leaving until you put that in your suitcase,” he teased. Although he might have been serious.
“My purse is not that big.”
He scoffed. “It’s the same size as you.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be ogres,” I grumbled.
“Me? I’m too pretty to be an ogre.”
“Okay, fine, but you’re dumb tall.”
“Makes it easier to see over the other guys.” He waved the napkin again, dangling it like bait. “You wanna get going? Or stay here and have some more one-sided conversation?”
I grabbed it from him and jammed it inside my purse. “Get the check, Eighty-Eight.”