Fourteen

JENSEN

I believed I’d prepared for every contingency for the official opening of Camp Step-Up.

But I hadn’t expected projectile vomiting from the oldest kid in attendance.

Nor had I anticipated getting challenged to a “touchdown celebration dance-off” by a seven-year-old girl.

Neither did I understand why a kid brought a snake in a bucket for show-and-tell, because we didn’t have show-and-tell. Also, how had the kid’s parents not noticed their son carrying a bucket with a snake into the school?

Luckily Astrid was a snake charmer or possibly she spoke Parseltongue because she dealt with the snake and with the kid. And probably his parents.

The next issue involved my cousin Jaxson. He was supposed to drop off his daughter, Mimi, except as soon as Jax realized Lucy’s mother was teaching arts and crafts, my in-your-face hockey-playing cousin demanded that I find a volunteer position for him. Right. The guy beat the shit out of people with a stick for a living—not a lot of need for that skill in the real world, to say nothing of at a day camp for kids under age ten.

Jax was determined to “do his part as a Lund.” Rather than upsetting Mimi—who was thrilled her father wanted to be around longer than ten minutes—I planned to put him off until registration ended. I flat-out refused Jax’s demand to be assigned to Lucy as her classroom aide. I happened to like Lucy and I was fond of my balls being attached to my body.

This wasn’t a decision I could delegate to Astrid. I gave Jax one option: He could be the janitor. He didn’t balk. He said yes and “welcomed” the chance to prove he’d changed.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on that because I had another unexpected crazy Lund family member to deal with—Brady. He demanded to know why the camp wasn’t offering academic tutoring.

There was some fun. Conjugating verbs and solving story problems. Not.

I reminded Brady that Camp Step-Up focused on the arts. It wasn’t petty that if I, a pro athlete, wasn’t allowed to teach these kids how to catch a ball, then similarly Mr. CEO Finance Whiz couldn’t try to make math fun.

Okay, maybe it was a little petty.

Speaking of petty . . . Rowan and Calder were the last to arrive for registration. I hadn’t seen either of them for a week.

A week in which only my pride kept me from asking Bob, the apartment complex manager, if Rowan had moved out.

A week in which I’d convinced myself the only reason I’d wanted Rowan to begin with was because I couldn’t have her. That “out of sight, out of mind” would cure my obsession with her.

But as I looked at her, I realized my feelings hadn’t changed. At all.

Immediately Rowan focused on Astrid, but Calder was all about me.

“Hey, Jensen! I can’t believe I didn’t see you all week.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even watch Chopped.”

I couldn’t mask how much I needed to hear that. “I missed you too, ninja-boy.”

“Didja know I graduated from kindergarten last week?”

“I never doubted for a second that you’d pass.” I leaned closer to whisper, “Did you say, ‘In your face!’ to Tiara the troublemaker?”

“Huh-uh,” he whispered back. “I’m not mean like her.”

“Good for you for having in-teg-rity.” I held my fist out for a bump. “Congrats on officially being a first-grader.”

He bounced a couple of times and pointed at the paperwork in front of me. “Does it say that I’m a first-grader?”

“Of course it does.”

“That’s why I got up really, really early today because I was so excited to come to camp!”

Do not look at his mother and ask her if her son was so eager, then why are they arriving late?

“During camp you should be respectful and call him Mr. Lund,” Rowan said to him.

Calder blinked those big brown eyes at me. “Really?”

“Nope. Doesn’t matter where we are, you call me Jensen, because we’re friends.”

He looked relieved. “Okay.” Then he was back to bouncing with excitement. “Know what else?”

“What?”

“I made my own lunch today! Guess what it is.”

“A PB and J, baby carrots and a root beer.”

“Huh-uh.” He leaned in and whispered. “It’s fancy.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but his earnestness just got to me and I grinned. “I’m not a fancy-food guy. You know I can’t cook worth sh—beans, so hit me with this fancy-schmancy sandwich that Chef Calder created this morning.”

“Deviled ham on toast!”

“Wow. That is right uptown.”

“And I have a hard-boiled egg, pepper sticks and hummus too.”

“Pepper sticks?”

“Sliced red and green peppers to dip into the hummus,” Rowan said.

“Thanks, Coach Michaels, for the clarification.”

“What’s in your lunch?” Calder asked.

I groaned. “Shoot. That’s the one thing I forgot this morning.”

“Oh. Well . . . you can have some of mine.”

This boy’s sweetness slayed me. I reached out and tugged on his hair. “Thanks for the offer, little dude, but you’ll be starved after dance class.”

“Maybe you could call your mommy and she’ll bring you something.”

“Come on,” Rowan said to Calder, “let’s put away your lunch and find your dance class.”

She left without making eye contact with me.

As soon as Rowan was out of sight, Astrid said, “Brrr . . . it’s cold in here.” Clap clap. “There must be a mad coach in the atmosphere.” Clap clap. “I said . . . Brrr—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hilarious.”

“So, what did you do to the ravishing Rowan to make her act like that to you?”

I pinned Astrid with a hard look. “Don’t you have shit to file? Calls to make? Clerical duties to perform?”

Astrid saluted. “Yes, sir, boss man. Sir. I’ll keep my questions to myself.” She pushed away from the table. Then she stopped in front of me. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

Of course not.

“Even when Rowan acted cold to you, when she watched you interacting with her son . . . she thawed out a lot. She even smiled. Twice.”

“So you’re a voyeur too?”

She laughed. “I couldn’t help but watch her because she is one hot mama. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off you, even if those eyes were shooting daggers. Watching you two neighbors dance around each other is gonna be entertaining. I might even bring popcorn.”

I pointed at the office.

She laughed again . . . and did the cheer from Bring It On until she vanished from my sight.

Surrounded by meddling smart-asses appeared to be my lot in life.

•   •   •

The morning went smoothly, but with the kids’ excessive amount of energy, I opted to give them a fifteen-minute break between activities and before lunch. With Jax at my disposal, I had him supervise the kids inside while I took on the role of playground monitor.

My ever-efficient program director, Astrid, even brought me a whistle.

The old playground equipment hadn’t been removed after LCCO’s purchase of the property, so I had to ban the kids from sliding down the metal slide, which sat directly in the sun. Most of them wanted to hang from the monkey bars or swing on the swings. Alex, the ace projectile vomiter, asked me if we’d brought any balls.

“What kind of balls?” I asked him and the group of six kids with him.

“A basketball,” he said.

I did a quick check of the playground equipment. “I don’t see any hoops.”

“I could teach them how to play foursquare.”

“I’ll bring one as long as everyone who wants to play gets a turn. This is a fun camp, not a place where anyone needs to be competitive either in art or dance or music or recess.”

Alex gave me a disbelieving look. “But someone is always better than someone else.”

Astute kid. “True. But I know from experience that working together as a team raises the level of everyone’s abilities. That means including everyone. That means taking turns. If you all can promise me that—in writing—then I’ll bring one ball on Wednesday and we’ll see how it goes.”

“In writing?” Eloise, a freckled, pigtailed, scrawny girl of about eight repeated.

“Yeah. You know. Like when we sign that no-bullying contract at school,” Alex said.

A collective ah of understanding arose from the rest of the kids.

“You know what would be really cool?” a nine-year-old named LaShawn said. “If we got a really big piece of paper and everyone could sign it. Then we could tape it by the door so we’d all see it every time we went outside as a reminder.”

“Excellent idea. I’ll talk to Astrid and track down a piece of paper so we can do it before everyone leaves for the day.”

The kids were so pumped up and talking a mile a minute, we missed the first call to lunch.

Evidently Astrid had gotten herself a whistle too. She blew that sucker hard enough that we all stopped and faced her like a pack of trained dogs.

“Lunchtime. Find your lunch on the tables. Where you sit today won’t be where you sit every day, because we want everyone to get to know each other.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Who came up with assigned seating? I hated that in elementary school. I was the shy kid and a slow eater, so no one talked to me and I was always the last one to leave the table. That was probably why I learned to shovel food in so fast I barely tasted it.

After I did a quick check of the playground to make sure no one was out here hiding, I headed toward the door. I froze when I heard her shout, “Lund, wait up.”

I stepped into the shadow of the building, away from the street side, and watched Rowan amble toward me.

She thrust a plastic grocery bag at me. “Here. I brought you lunch.”

Just like that, my resentment over her silence the last week vanished.

You’re an easy mark, Lund. You’re too soft when it comes to women.

No, I just had it bad for this one sweet woman, who took time out of her busy day to do something thoughtful for me.

“Is this a piece of humble pie?” I joked.

Rowan snorted. “Funny. I’m not making you eat crow either.”

“Good. While I appreciate you bringing me lunch, if it comes with the expectation of an apology, I’ll pass.” I paused and slipped my sunglasses on top of my head. “I’m not sorry for what I said. I meant every word.”

“I . . .” She turned her head away. “I overreacted, okay? I do that a lot. I hate that about myself.”

“Why would you hate anything about yourself?”

Her gaze finally met mine. “I miss signs, I misread signals and then I immediately become defensive because I realize too late that I screwed up.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry. My dismissal of you—of us—being whatever we are, hurt you. That wasn’t fair when you’ve been nothing short of amazing since we moved in. So I brought you lunch, hoping I could get a brief moment of your time to apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

A beautiful smile lit up her face. “That fast?”

“Yep. It’s over, done with and we can move on.” I allowed a quick grin. “As the youngest kid in the family, I learned to forgive and forget in record time. Or I found myself ostracized by my siblings and cousins and there was nothing I hated worse than playing with myself.”

A devious look danced in her eyes. “I’ve heard guys like to do that all the time.”

I blushed. Damn Nordic skin. “I meant playing by myself.”

“Sure you did, Lund.”

Just like that, we were back to normal.

“Anyway, I can’t stay. I have to get back to work.”

I moved in until we were toe to toe, forcing her head back to meet my gaze. “Thank you for the food. Thank you for the apology. I was depressed I’d have to watch Chopped by myself again this week.”

“Right. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Calder. That’s become his favorite show because he gets to spend time with you.”

“I like hanging out with him. But this is one of those big signs you’re misreading, so let me help you out by taking the damn blinders off.”

She watched me warily.

“Admit we’re more than friends, Rowan.”

“We’re more than friends, Jensen.”

“Tell me you missed me, sweetheart.”

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

She wouldn’t be Rowan without some sarcasm. “Assure me that if we’re in a team meeting situation, you won’t be dismissive and act like you don’t know me.”

“If we’re in a team meeting situation, I won’t be dismissive and act like I don’t know you. However, for your part after a team meeting, there will be no hugs, no kiss-kiss on the cheek, no whispering in my ear, no patting my ass, no staring at my ass and no ‘Hey, babe, you left your shirt on my couch’ type of comments.”

“Fine. After a team meeting no hugs, no kiss-kiss on the cheek, no whispering in your ear, no patting your ass, but I’ll stare at your ass if I want to—ain’t nothin’ gonna change that—and no ‘Hey, babe, you left your shirt on my couch’ type of comments.” I smiled. “See? We can compromise and work this out.”

She drilled me in the chest with her index finger. “Also, when I’m trying to be serious you have to stop looking at me like you’re imagining me naked in your bed.”

“Not happening. And give me some credit, woman, I don’t only think of you naked in my bed. Sometimes I imagine you naked against the wall. Or naked in my shower. But my favorite is you naked on my kitchen table, all spread out in a lickable, fuckable feast.”

“Jensen Lund. You can’t tell me stuff like that.”

I lifted a brow. “You’d rather I acted on it?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean yes.” She closed her eyes. “I suck at this.”

“Then I have one question for you. Do you want this?” Do you want me?

“Yes. But I need to ask you to do something for me.”

Yes, as soon as we’re alone I’ll pull down your shorts, spread your thighs wide open and drop to my knees so I can feast on you until you scream my name.

Somehow I forced that sexy image from my head and managed to say, “Hit me with it.”

“Give me a reason not to second-guess myself—and this—again.”

My heart beat as if I’d just sprinted a mile when I reached for her, curling my left hand below her jaw.

Those hazel-green eyes blinked at me with uncertainty.

I slanted my mouth over hers and kissed her.

Keeping my lips soft and the kiss gentle . . . not what I wanted. Rowan didn’t need sweet; she needed heat and passion. She needed to see me as the man with a voracious sexual appetite who had been denying his hunger for her for far too long.

I traced the seam of her lips with the tip of my tongue and she opened her mouth on a soft gasp. Then I used both hands to hold her in place as I kissed the hell out of her. I dove into her mouth, again and again, changing the angle of her head so I could kiss her deeper. Harder. Longer.

She fisted her hands into my shirt and pulled me closer.

My head buzzed like I’d downed a dozen shots of tequila. My dick was hard as a goalpost. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten an erection from just a kiss.

In public. In broad daylight.

Not smart.

I slowed the kiss. Then I nibbled on her swollen lips, kissing each corner of her mouth. But even though our lips were no longer touching, I couldn’t let go of her. My thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. My fingers were tangled in her hair.

When I opened my eyes, she was already looking at me.

She whispered, “Holy fuck.”

I didn’t release her. I didn’t smile or make a smart-ass comment. I just let my eyes drink in every nuance of her face as I tried to level my breathing and unscramble my brain.

Rowan maintained the iron grip on my shirt as she studied me in the same way.

“Jensen—”

I pressed my thumb over her lips. “I talk first. You listen.”

She parted her lips as if she intended to argue, but she remained silent.

“Now that I’ve had a taste of you?” I dragged my thumb along the inside rim of her bottom lip. “I want more. I want it all.”

She nipped at my thumb and I moved it, allowing my hands to slide free from her hair to rest at the base of her neck.

Her eyes turned serious. “This is uncharted territory for me.”

“It is for me too.” I kissed her lips and her forehead before I dropped my hands.

“I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Liar.”

A flash of guilt shone in her eyes. “Okay, I never thought it would happen with you.”

“Because I’m an athlete? Or because you think I’m a player?”

“Both.”

“Football is a game for me. I’d never play around with your feelings. What’s between us? Not a game. That’s another thing I want you to remember when you’re dissecting the fact I finally fucking kissed you.”

Her eyes searched mine. “How did you know I’d be dissecting it? God, Lund, how do you know me so well?”

“I pay attention when it’s important. And make no mistake . . . you are important to me.”

The way she kept running her hands over my chest with purposeful but unintentional sensuality kicked my desire to the next level. She’d be a thorough lover—of that I was certain. She gave her all to everything she did; sex wouldn’t be any different.

She pressed her palms against my pectorals. “Why did you just growl at me?”

I leaned in and put my lips to her ear. “Because I was thinking about you being naked in my bed and touching me like that.”

Rowan shivered. “I worry that I’ll be a disappointment.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a while for me.” She groaned into my neck. “And I can’t believe I just told you that.”

“You think telling me that you haven’t been screwing around the past six years you’ve been raising your son alone is gonna deter me?” I softly blew in her ear until she shivered again. “Fuck. No.” I kissed the side of her neck and forced myself to push her away. “Go back to work, Coach.”

She blew out a deep breath. She turned to leave—man, I loved to watch that ass of hers in motion—but then she stopped and whirled back around.

This time I had no idea what she’d say. But it turned out she didn’t say anything at all—at least not with words.

My sexy spitfire cheerleader trapped my face in her hands and kissed me. Her tongue pushing past my lips, searching for mine. Her fingernails digging into my scalp, knocking my sunglasses to the ground. Her quiet hum of desire vibrating between us like a promise.

She teased: a nibble of her teeth on the fleshy inside of my bottom lip. She seduced: a rhythmic sucking on my tongue. The dizzy sensation swamped me, forcing me to curl my fingers into the brick behind me to keep from touching her.

Then she used the damp slide of her lips across mine to gently break the connection.

Rowan had just made it clear that I might’ve made the first move, but she was making the second.

After a lingering sweep of her hands through my hair, she stepped back and walked away without saying another word.

Best. Lunch. Ever.

•   •   •

Later in the afternoon, I wandered through the school. Trinity had young artists spread out in a circle on the floor as she demonstrated how to draw a flower with colored pencils.

In the café-torium, Dallas directed the thespians in an improv scene about working in a busy restaurant.

In the music room, Todd strummed a guitar as the kids shared the names of their favorite songs.

In Lucy’s craft room, the students were choosing supplies off the long table while Lucy explained the options for the day’s jewelry. An angry Jax lurked in the back of the classroom, so I beckoned him out.

“What?”

“Don’t do this, man.”

“Do what?”

“Make this about you. If you’re volunteering to spend extra time with Mimi, then you shouldn’t be in Lucy’s room glaring at her. Whatever issues you two have, they don’t get addressed or dealt with here.”

Jax squared off against me. “Mimi is in that class right now. So I was in there because of her. When I tried to help her, Mimi said she wasn’t a baby and didn’t need my help.”

“So you stuck around to glare at Lucy because it’s somehow her fault that Mimi didn’t need your help?”

“Yes. No.” He sighed. “Fuck. I had no idea that Lucy was an expert at this artsy-fartsy stuff to the point of it being her business for a while.”

After seeing firsthand what Rowan went through every day being a single parent, I had no sympathy for my whiny-ass, overprivileged cousin. “You didn’t know because you didn’t bother to ask. It’s no secret that making jewelry went from being Lucy’s hobby to her livelihood because you refused to support her and your daughter.” I got right in his face. “It pisses me off that Lucy was struggling, right under our noses, raising your child alone while you were off hitting the bottle and nailing every chick who so much as breathed on you. And you had the balls to lie to all of us about it. So now that you’re finally on the right path, don’t put your frustration with yourself and your parental shortcomings on Lucy. Don’t turn into that bitter guy who blames everyone else for his crappy decisions.”

“I see she’s recruited another member of my family to Team Lucy,” he said testily.

“Wrong. I am on Team Jax-steps-up-and-proves-he’s-changed. Wishing things were different doesn’t make them so. Mimi loves her mom. Being an ass to the person your daughter loves the most . . . think about that. It’s not a smart move.”

Jax blinked at me and I swear I saw a lightbulb go off. After a moment he said, “When did you get all smart and philosophical, little cuz?”

I lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You oughta try using your brain to think rather than just to stop hockey pucks.”

“Piss off, baller.”

“Speaking of piss . . . the boys’ bathroom is gross.”

He sighed. “I’m on it.”

Once I finished checking on all the classes and staff, I returned to the office.

Astrid glanced up. “I assumed you’d already left for training.”

“I’m going.” I shouldered my duffel bag. “You’ll make sure—”

“Yes. I have a checklist. I’ll text it to you when I’m done.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Will you be in tomorrow?”

I stopped halfway to the door. “No. Why? Did you need me to be here?”

“Not that I know of. But can we plan on a quick staff meeting early Wednesday morning before the campers get here?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll bring donuts.”

Vegan donuts. There was something to look forward to . . . said no one ever.