Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1) (27 page)

“Um, thanks.” His compliment throws me off guard. More so when he reaches out and links a finger around a tendril.

“The color and length look good on you. Makes you glow.” His soft eyes, filled with the same emotions he spoke to me with that night at the dance make my heart skip and my pulse race. I don’t have time to check myself when the lights over the dining table cut off and everyone starts singing the birthday song. Normally having people sing to me brings up all sorts of embarrassing feelings, but tonight, in the safety of Logan’s home, the only feelings that invade me are those of being loved and cherished. As they finish their song and it becomes time to blow my candles out, only one thought comes to mind.

I wish one day I will have a family as caring and full of love as this one.

A round of applause thunders in the room the second the candles are blown out and the beautiful cake is promptly cut, an enormous slice set before me.

“Please tell me that you made this.” I turn to Jillian with my first bite in front of my face. She smiles adoringly and nods. I let the spongy cake overload my senses and groan appreciatively as the hint of nutmeg and cinnamon sends me to my ultimate happy place.

“I know Emma said you’d like chocolate, but I remembered you said carrot cake was your favorite. I haven’t made this recipe in years, so I hope it tastes okay.”

“Oh, it tastes okay to me,” I mumble over a mouthful of the wonderful dessert, earning me a few chuckles.

Everyone settles into their seats again and digs into their cake, a satisfied peace settling over the full table. Looking at all the warm, happy faces, I feel that sense of homesickness tightening in my chest. I swallow back the lump that threatens to bring tears and close my eyes. I feel a hand cover mine on the table and I don’t have to peek through my eyelids to know who it belongs to. His tender touch breaks down all my barriers and a single tear slips down my cheek.

“Oh, don’t cry, sweet girl.”

Jillian reaches from the seat next to me and pulls me into a hug. Her love emanates off her in waves that crash over my aching soul, bringing out so many different emotions, I don’t even know how to handle them all. She runs her motherly hand over my hair and gently shushes me. I absorb as much of her strength as I can as I pull back and wipe the tears from my eyes and plaster on a grateful smile.

“I’m so lucky to have met you all. Thank you for such a wonderful day.”

Each face around the table holds a different smile. Emma and Lucy are satisfied with their hand in making today so special. Owen smiles as if he knows what I’m feeling. Sam is blissful, obviously content with the impact his family has had on my life. Jillian is ecstatic, for what I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the way Logan’s eyes have filled with hope. His small smile hits me the hardest, because without saying a word, he’s said everything that he wishes I’d hear.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I immediately miss the sweet comfort of my air conditioning the moment I turn the engine off. The early July sun is doing its best job of ensuring I spend some relaxing time in the hotel pool this afternoon. Logan’s truck pulls into the parking lot just as I send up my hopes for an indoor practice today.

Logan steps out of his truck and I can’t help but take a moment to take all of him in. The jeans he normally wears around the ranch are MIA this morning, showing off his lean legs in a pair of dark gray Rattlers gym shorts. The Under Armor compression shirt spreads tightly across his torso, showing off every dip and curve of his chest and abs, effectively stealing the air from my lungs. A week ago, I stole glances of his tan skin in all its sweat-glazed glory and was disheartened by the ugliness of the man on the outside. But now that I’ve seen the real man behind the mask, every ounce of me aches to let my heart see all the pieces of him and allow myself to fall for the complete package.

But I have a job to do. One I can’t afford to mess up by allowing myself to fall for him.

We haven’t truly spoken in almost 48 hours. Between the big birthday bash and his needing to come to the city early yesterday, we haven’t had enough face time to really get into all the things left between us, let alone what remains for the article.

“Good morning, Allie,” the object of my neglected affection greets me with a heart stopping smile as I climb out of the Mustang. For whatever reason, I felt the need to dig the heels out of my suitcase, and having spent the last couple of weeks walking around in sneakers and cowgirl boots, the balls of my feet scream in protest with every step I take. Even though his eyes are hidden behind his signature aviator shades, I feel his thorough inspection of my attire. I’m rewarded when Logan’s jaw tightens and he slowly swallows, and I can’t help but do a little happy dance on the inside.

Knock it off, Allie. This can’t happen, remember?

“Morning.” I don’t remove my own shades as I nod toward the building behind him. “Do I need to sign in somewhere or anything?”

When he doesn’t answer after a beat, I turn to find him facing me, his lips parted as if he’s trying to carefully exhale without letting me know.

“Um, no.” He shakes his head as if to clear it and and turns toward the building. He guides me with a subtle touch to the small of my back and I’m super thankful I decided to wear a blazer. It might be hot this morning, but lately the smallest touches from Logan set my skin on fire. “Inman and Carrey know you’re coming today. I wouldn’t put it past them to be waiting for you in the lobby.”

He holds the door open for me and the smell of paint and processed air fills my nostrils as we enter the main building of the training facilities. As the refreshing air conditioning hits my over-flushed cheeks, I feel Logan tense up behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, seeing his jaw already locked and loaded.

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh. You don’t want me here.” The thought slips out quietly before I can stop it.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Not necessarily.”

“I’m invading another sacred place of yours?” I quip, trying to lighten the mood a little.

He relaxes enough to give me a tight smile. “Nope.”

“I don’t want to come into the locker room, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Smelly Boys isn’t my favorite scent. I can barely handle post game interviews sometimes.”

Another chink falls away as he sighs. “Allie.”

“I know, you’re afraid I’ll find your teammates more charming than you?”

He pulls his shades off, one brow rising in disbelief.

“I’ll start coming up with even crazier ideas if you just don’t tell me what’s bothering you. You know I took several creative writing classes in college that I could put to good use.” This warrants a look that clearly says he’s not at all amused with me at the moment. He runs a hand through his already messy hair as the door behind us opens and in walks three of the Rattlers starting defensive lineman. The three men laugh in unison until the two of us standing in the middle of the lobby catches their attention. All three boys quiet down, mixed emotions on each of their faces.

“Lassiter. You brought a girl to the clubhouse?! You know the rules, bro.” Brandon Mason in all his six-foot-four glory grins like the cheshire cat while Gabe Lucas has the gumption to look embarrassed for his fellow lineman. A familiar face lights up in genuine welcome.

“Allie! What a unexpected surprise. How you doin’, girl?” Javonte Cooks holds his arms out and wraps me in an awkward hug. Over his shoulder I notice white knuckles gripping the straps of the backpack Logan has slung over his back. But Javonte and I go way back to when we were a couple of bored, freshmen Golden Bears in an early morning Art History class. If, and that’s a big if, Logan is jealous, he has no reason to be. Javonte has always been like that obnoxious little brother type. He oozes charm and has a heart of gold, but I’ll never be able to look at him as anything other than a close friend.

“I’m good, Von. How’s the hamstring?” He pulls back and flashes me a mega-watt smile, his dark skin a perfect contrast to his ivory teeth.

“Never better,” he sings, head bobbing and weaving with great confidence, bringing an equally large smile to my face.

“Glad to hear it. Mason, didn’t you hear? I’m here to show you how to tackle Freeman like a
real
man.” I smirk at the jab. Mason is the best defensive end the Rattlers have but Tucker Freeman is Lex Luthor to Brandon Mason’s Clark Kent. Freeman, a tight end for the Baton Rouge Bobcats, slips out of Brandon’s grip. Every. Time.

“Hardy har. Seriously, Lassiter. You brought Mooreland to practice? What’re ya thinking, man?” He gives me a mocking jeer. He and I don’t have the rapport Javonte and I do, but we have developed enough of a love/hate relationship that gets us by.

“Ah, there she is!” The voice that grates on my nerves like nails to a chalkboard interrupts the fun and games. The ever quiet Gabe Lucas steps out of the way to show Richard Inman and Head Coach Terrence Carrey making their way to greet us. Coach Carrey narrows his eyes as the men standing around me break huddle to head to what I presume is the locker room. Logan takes a deep breath and grows a couple of inches as he steels himself for the formidable duo.

“Miss Mooreland, welcome. I hope you’ll find our facilities to your liking.”

I fail to see the purpose in explaining to him that I’m not here to tour their facilities but to observe Logan in action and possibly get a quote or two from his coaches, as I’m sure his overinflated sense of self-worth wouldn’t understand my reasoning anyway. Okay, so it might not be stretching it too far to say that I’m not a fan of Inman’s.

“Well, we really just got here, but so far everything seems…great.” Coach Carrey sees my failing attempt to to be polite and smugly smiles.

“Logan, why don’t you head on in and get ready to begin. Ollie is already waiting to warm you up.” Logan nods to his coach, giving me his signature blank look. His eyes though, they’re ten shades of apologetic and I finally get it. He doesn’t want me to have to deal with these two yahoos. A part of me swoons a little at his concern, but I keep my game face on in front of Inman and Carrey.

Inman waves a blingy hand out in front of us toward a hall opposite the direction Logan headed. “I hope your stay in Walker has been pleasant.”

I swallow, thinking over the last eleven days. The fights and the revelations, the dancing and tension. The growing interest in Logan that has far exceeded what I’ve needed for the article. “It’s been…advantageous.”

Coach Carrey shoots me a questioning look, but I ignore it.

“I hope you’ve found your accommodations to your liking as well,” Inman carries on, clearly disinterested in much of anything I have to say as he smiles and nods at a staffer who crosses our path,

“Oh, well, yes. My hotel here is great. Thank you.” Another weird look from Carrey. Rolling my shoulders back, I plaster a fake smile on my face and do my best to sell my satisfaction with the fact that I am oddly missing the closeness of one Logan Lassiter.

“And the inn in Walker?” So Inman is paying attention to what I have to say.

“Oh, well there was structural damage to the inn from the storm that blew through the first day I came to Walker, and well, Logan was kind enough to open his home for my short stay.”

Both men stop, wide-eyed in front of a solid black door and turn to me.

“You’re staying at Logan’s ranch?” Coach Carrey looks like he might blow a gasket.

There’s no sugar-coating it, and seeing as how we’ve done nothing wrong, I hold my head high and tell the truth. “Yes, sir.”

Carrey turns an astonished face to Inman who looks like the cat that ate the canary. “Well, well. Aren’t you a lucky little thing?”

I take a leaf out of Logan’s playbook and lock my jaw in place to keep my anger from flaring in front of Logan’s bosses. “The circumstances are unfortunate, but Logan has been more than accommodating. My staying in Walker has made for easier access to have the face time I need with the people I need to see in order to get the information necessary for the article.”

Inman’s eyebrows twitch in a snide manner as he reaches for the door and opens it. He waves a hand to indicate I enter ahead of the men. “I’m sure Mr. Lassiter has been
very
accommodating.” This tone breaks my reserve.

Turning on a stilettoed heel, I drop my bag onto the conference table and roll my shoulders back. “I don’t think I appreciate what you’re insinuating there, Mr. Inman.”

He closes the door behind Carrey, who fails miserably at suppressing a suggestive grin as he takes a seat at the right hand of the head of the table.  I glare at him and he shakes his head as if saying, “You’re the one who opened this door, missy.”

“Miss Mooreland, it’s not unheard of for beautiful young women like yourself to do whatever is necessary to get a good story.” His kind smile drops and the implications of his accusation make my blood boil.

“Is that how you came into possession of your team, sir?” Inman’s beady eyes narrow, making me want to shirk away. But I hold my ground.  “I didn’t think so. It is very unprofessional of you to assume that is how I work, and I take great offense to your accusations. With all due respect, even if there were something going on between Logan and me, that would be none of your business.”

The resentment and annoyance smeared all over his face softens and a very shrewd look takes over. “With all due respect, Miss Mooreland, what affects Logan’s playing abilities is 100 percent my business. He’s a part of my all-star team and I’d like to keep it that way.”

His words are like a shoulder to the gut. “Are you threatening his position on this team?”

“I’m simply stating that should anything happen to his performance for my team, I will hold you specifically responsible for it.” His sharp eyes show he’s not messing around, but to have him think that I could do anything with Logan’s incredible talent to play makes me furious. Remembering the scene I overheard back at the studio, I reel my temper back, but only for Logan’s sake. He doesn’t need to get into any trouble because I couldn’t keep my tongue in check.

“Noted.” I square my shoulders and ask the only question I entered this office to get an answer to. “I assure you that my intentions with my time with Logan are strictly professional. I only came today to observe Logan’s interaction with his staff and teammates, so I won’t be taking up any more of your precious time. Before I go, would either of you like to give a comment for the article?”

Head Coach Carrey looks like I’ve just asked to be shot in the knee, but Mr. Inman smiles satisfactorily as if he holds the key to my article’s success.

“Sure.” He nods to the bag on the table, giving me the chance to retrieve my phone to cue up the recorder app. When I nod, his arrogant face turns into one of great pride and I start to wonder if his defense of Logan is because he actually cares about his players. What actually comes out of his mouth proves me wrong though.

“Logan is a true asset to this team. From the moment he joined the Rattlers, he’s been nothing but consistent: consistently performing better and better with every season. We are confident that we will see a championship ring very soon thanks to him.”

Translation: Logan is a money maker and Mr. Inman expects him to perform.

I force a smile, nod, and gather my bag. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll let you get back to your business.”

As I turn to exit, Inman shoots Carrey a condescending look and it takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to introduce my fist to the self-righteous idiot’s face. Instead, I hold my head high and shut the door behind me, forcing all the frustration from my body before I start ambling through the maze of halls to try and find my way to the practice field. I remember coming from the left so I turn back that direction to try and retrace our steps, but my name being called by an oh-so glorious source from the opposite direction makes me stop mid-step. Turning, I see Logan walking side-by-side with a man he looks oddly comfortable with. A light smile on his face tells me that this is a person Logan is actually relaxed around, like he is with his family. The man is a couple inches taller than Logan, with great dirty-blond hair and a crooked smile. Theres a shyness to the man, as if he’s in awe of just being in Logan’s presence. As they approach, they both turn to me, their smiles growing as if they’re happy to see me. That is until Logan gets a good read on my own face. The flame in his eyes blares into a full-on bonfire as he starts putting two and two together.