Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) (11 page)

“Not a chance in hell. Tell me why you hate jocks?” His big hands blocked her in as they rested on the counter on either side of her. Across the room, the brothers turned in their seats to watch. Not one of the cowards came to her rescue. Instead, they whispered among themselves.

“Drop it.”

He nuzzled her neck, bringing a low whistle from the Brothers and more whispering.

She tried to escape, but she’d have better luck escaping from a prison cell. “Get away from me.”

“Not until I have my answer.” Determination reverberated in his voice. His hands encircled her waist. Her body welcomed his touch. Her brain rejected it. She snapped and turned on him so fast, he staggered back a step.

“
Damn you
. Hell yes, I know about football. I know a lot about that so-called game you play. It creates assholes like you, and it tears families apart.” Lavender spat out the word ‘apart’ with vehemence and bitterness she couldn’t control. She sidestepped around him, planning her escape, but she was no match for his reflexes. He grabbed her arm and jerked her none too gently against his hard body. She glared up at him, hating him for getting inside, past her defenses, for forcing her to reveal something so personal and painful.

His blue eyes drilled into hers, and she backed away, knowing he’d see the bitter truth lurking there. Tyler lowered his voice. “Spoken like someone who’s been there. How? How does it tear families apart?”

Lavender looked him straight in the eye. Her lower lip quivered. She would not cry. Not in front of him or anyone. “My dad is a college football coach.”

Tyler released his hold on her as he digested this unexpected information. “Who is he? Would I know him?”

Putting a safe physical distance between them, Lavender wiped all emotion from her face, and met his steady gaze with one of her own. “Oh, yeah, jock boy, you know him. He’s the Cougars’ head coach.”

Lavender ducked behind Tyler and ran for the bathroom, just as the dam broke. She locked the door behind her and leaned up against it. She choked up, her eyes filled with tears, and her gut twisted like a pretzel. Sobs wracked her body.

Oh, God, why was it that after all these years, talk of her father still devastated her? The incredible pain of being abandoned by the man who used to call her
Daddy’s princess
, wrenched her in two. Why did he leave her? Never call or write, never acknowledge her birthday? Why? Why? Had she been such a bad daughter that he’d ran like hell and never looked back? Heck, she couldn’t blame him for leaving her mother. The woman had been difficult, but what had Lavender done to deserve his rejection?

Losing her mother in a car accident months after the divorce hurt like hell, but there was a finality to it that she’d come to terms with years ago. But losing someone because they chose to forget about you caused a new kind of pain which never totally went away.

In moments of weakness, she missed her dad, missed his wise ways, his gentle yet firm tone. She missed his smile and his teasing. It’d almost be easier if he were dead because there’d be finality to it and an explanation for his absence.

Maybe being abandoned by her father was one of the reasons she’d developed an affinity for old people. Since she’d been in her teens, she volunteered at the nursing home a couple days a week, reading to a group of residents, writing letters for them, or just visiting. Many of them were stuck in these homes and forgotten by their families, just like her father had forgotten her.

And maybe that’s why she worked in a veterans’ bar. She genuinely enjoyed the old veterans who came into the bar. It did her heart good to brighten their day.

Tyler would never understand the depth of these people’s loneliness, and she pitied him for that.

* * * * *

Still reeling from Lavender’s admission, he watched her warily when she returned from the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. Besides the look on Lavender’s face warned him not to go there. He might be a dumb jock, but he preferred life to death.

His college coach was her
father
? But they didn’t even share the last name. Her hatred of jocks
was
personal. He’d expected her attitude to have its basis in a jock boyfriend who’d jilted her, not in a coach father. And definitely not his coach. Not in a million years. Fate sacked him for a loss on this one.

He’d admired Coach Gerloch, or Coach as the guys called him. When his father died, Coach took him under his wing, filled the role of a father in Tyler’s life, and kept Tyler from diving off the deep end of despair into drugs and alcohol. He’d been there for Tyler, but he hadn’t been there for his own daughter? It didn’t make sense.

He’d even imagined someday being a coach like Brian Gerloch, one who inspired, taught character while encouraging a competitive spirit. He’d never once heard the coach mention a daughter. A son, yes, but a daughter, never. There’d been no pictures of Lavender in his office alongside the pictures of his current wife and his son. It didn’t add up, didn’t make sense when compared with the man Tyler knew and admired.

Lavender had just admitted something deeply personal and obviously painful to her. Something emotional, not physical. He’d bet his Super Bowl ring she didn’t tell many people what she’d just told him.

Not good.

He couldn’t be her confidante. He wouldn’t be there for her. It wasn’t his style. His style was love ’em and leave ’em wanting more, but never, never get attached. Hell, he hadn’t even been that attached to Cass, despite all the stormy years they’d spent together. So why the hell had he even pushed her for an answer to something which was none of his business?

Lavender turned her back on him and busied herself behind the bar. Tyler took advantage of her inattention to escape. He unwrapped his long legs from the bar stool and stood. Grabbing his beer, he sauntered over to the Brothers, sinking into an empty chair at their table. He breathed a sigh of relief. Like a coward, he’d turned and ran when the flames from the emotional heat licked at his ass.

Her pain was personal, and their relationship needed to stay strictly physical. Besides, she didn’t want his sympathy or his commiseration, which should let him off the hook. For some reason, it didn’t. Empathy was an emotion he rarely allowed himself, and he didn’t wear it well. Yet, he was pretty damn sure the nagging ache in his gut didn’t come from his crappy dinner.

He avoided her gaze, certain he’d see disappointment in her eyes at his hasty exit to the relative safety of the Brothers. Next to him, Homer and Ed debated the merits of eight-track tapes versus CDs. Hell, Ty wasn’t sure he even knew what an eight-track looked like. He feigned interest and steered them toward their predictions for the upcoming NFL draft. Even then, he couldn’t immerse himself in the conversation.

He hazarded a glance at Lavender. She swiped at her eyes with a bar towel, kept her head down, and her back turned away from him.

Ah, hell, she was crying. Again. Crying women made him crazy. They used tears as a ploy to get what they wanted since most men caved at the first sign of moisture in a female’s eyes. Rarely had he seen genuine tears. Lavender was manipulating him, a typical woman. Yet, even as he tried to convince himself, he didn’t believe it. Not really.

She took one more vicious swipe at her tears, squared her shoulders, and headed his way.
Oh, crap
. This wasn’t going to be pretty. The Brothers argued on, completely oblivious to the murderous woman advancing on their sacred little oasis. Tyler gripped the edge of the table and forced himself to breathe in rhythmic, deep breaths, and waited.

She stomped over to the table. Hands on hips, she faced him. The Brothers stopped their arguing and stared, dentures clattering and knees knocking together. They knew a dangerous woman when they saw one.

“One last thing, Mr. Harris. Discussions regarding my father are off-limits. You will
never
bring up Brian Gerloch’s name in my presence.
Never
. Do I make myself clear?”

The Brothers raised one eyebrow each in tandem, as if they’re rehearsed it. They stared at him as if they couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to piss her off. Ty nodded his head, feeling like the victim in an old episode of
The Twilight Zone
. Not waiting for a reply, Lavender pivoted and stalked back to her safe zone behind the bar.

She meant every word she said, yet at the same time, Tyler knew he couldn’t leave it alone. Not until he learned both sides of the story. Not until he understood the situation better.

When the Brothers wobbled to th
eir feet, he escorted them to their cars and got to hell out of Dodge.

He had a lot of thinking to do, and he didn’t have a clue where to start. 

Chapter 13

Pushed Back

Cussing under her breath, Lavender struggled with the heavy straw bale. After draggin
g it off the back of her pickup, she tried to push it into the barn. When that didn’t work, she attempted to roll it end over end, but it got the best of her and almost delivered a knockout punch. Just as the damn thing was about to crush her, the weight was suddenly lifted from her body.

Hefting the bale as if it weighed ten pounds instead of one hundred and ten, Tyler carried it to the back of her ramshackle barn. Without a word, he returned to the truck and grabbed the next bale. Lavender stood back and watched, not one to bother a man on a mission. Especially when that mission kept her from being a flat spot on the barn floor.

The chickenshit jock had avoided her all week. Even when he came into the VC, he sat with the Brothers and slithered out the door while she still had customers. He hadn’t brought up her father, just as she’d asked, yet it hurt her feelings he didn’t care enough to push anyway.

Care enough? How stupid of her. He’d done as she asked and not gone there. Still, she wanted him to ask. Unreasonable for her, she knew. She kinda missed the sex, too.

“Thanks for rescuing me from death by straw bales.”

Tyler paused from his spot in the bed of her truck, hay hooks grasped in his gloved hands. He looked down at her. “I can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“I can’t resist a Prince Uncharming.”

“Hey, I’m the king of asses.” Tyler graced her with his trademark lady-killer grin, as if that’d work on her. Nope. No way. This girl was immune.

Then again—

Her weak-willed body didn’t get the message from her brain and melted at his feet. One week was a long time to go without her neighbor’s talents. The man played on a mattress as well as he played on a football field.

The muscles in his strong thighs bulged from the weight as Tyler heaved the last bale of straw to the top of the stack as if it weighed no more than a pillow. He flexed his throwing arm then rubbed it, as if he felt a twinge.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged one shoulder, playing the Mr. Tough Guy. “I’m fine. Just side effects from playing a violent game for a living.”

He waited, as if he expected a smart comeback. She didn’t have one. Not today. The NFL paid him well for the physical abuse he suffered every Sunday. Those were the trade-offs.

Tyler pulled off his gloves and wiped his hands on his thighs.

“You don’t have animals. What’s the straw for?”

“For mulch? To lock in the moisture? Heck if I know. Gram insists we have it for the garden.”

“I’m all for moisture. Makes things stand up better.” His eyes flicked to her drooping garden plants and back. “Moisture looks good on you, too.” He traced the sweat trickling down her neck with his calloused finger, not stopping when it disappeared under her T-shirt but following the line down to where her sweaty shirt stuck to her cleavage. Their gazes locked, and she knew they’d be vertical in no time. His blue eyes smoldered, singeing her with the promise reflected in them. Dang, how she’d missed his body. He moved close to her, pinning her against the truck. Grabbing her waist, he hoisted her butt onto the tailgate and pushed her knees apart, stepping between them.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Lavender ran a hand across his cheek.

His eyes darkened, and he pressed closer. “Yeah, well, my coach being your dad is weird. I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”

“I haven’t seen him in years. He’s a father in name only so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He looked anything but okay.

“Can you deal?” She arched her back and pushed out her breasts, using her body to distract him and get beyond this
too personal
thing growing between them. Lavender had always enjoyed sex, but she’d become a slave to her desires, thanks to this gorgeous, self-proclaimed asshole. She would not let her obsession with getting this man naked temper her emotional dislike of him.

“I’m working on it.” Tyler pushed her down on the bed of the truck. His hard cock rubbed against her crotch. He shoved her sweatshirt and her bra up to expose her breasts. She moaned as his warm breath teased one pebbled nipple followed by an even warmer mouth. His tongue drew lazy circles around her nipple as his mouth sucked—now, that took talent. When it came to sexual expertise, the jock stood in a league of his own.

He drew back and admired her generous breasts. “I’m going to buy you some new jewelry for these babies. Something to remind you of me. Maybe some little footballs.” She writhed against him, as he toyed with her nipples.

“Anything but footballs. Oh, my. Oh. Ty.” Lavender arched her back, loving his touch. He bent down. His mouth covered hers. She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair. He tempted her with his lips, tantalized with his tongue, and she yielded to the web he wove. Completely under his spell, Lavender lost herself in the feel of his marauding mouth and did a little marauding of her own.

Cougar leapt onto the truck bed and crawled onto her shoulder. Tyler pulled back when the cat stuck his face between theirs.

“Get lost, Coug.” Ty pushed him away. “Get your own pussy.”

Coug ignored them and swatted at a lock of Lavender’s hair.

She heard the slam of a car door followed by a second slam.
Oh, crap.
Lavender wrenched out of Tyler’s grasp, kneeing him in the groin. He yelped and doubled over. Ignoring him, she yanked down her shirt and bra, as she leapt off the tailgate.

“What the fu—fudge?” Tyler ground out through his teeth. Geez, the bet was over, and he was still trying to clean up his mouth. He’d never cared before about his swearing. This wasn’t good.

“Grandma and Grandpa just drove up.” Lavender smoothed her hair and straightened her clothes. In another few minutes, he’d have been inside her. They would’ve been humping like rabbits, and her grandparents would’ve witnessed it all. The grief Doris piled on would’ve reached epic proportions.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler groaned from his bent over position.

“You have to go.” She fought to control the panic in her voice, even though embarrassment colored her face a bright red. A grown woman shouldn’t allow her family that much control over her life, but most families weren’t like her family. Lavender learned to travel the path of least resistance—give her grandmother what she wanted on the surface then fly under the radar and do whatever the hell she pleased.

“Hell, I can’t even stand up straight, let alone walk.”

“Don’t be a wuss. Get out of here.”

Tyler looked up, still hunched over. “No.” His blue eyes drilled into hers. She cringed at the determination reflected in them.

“Ty, please.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll be here any second.”

“How old
are
you?”

“Twenty-seven.” She knew where he was going with this.

“So who cares what your grandmother thinks?”

“You don’t get it,” she hissed. “You’ve never cared what anyone thought, even your mother. Never needed to keep the peace.”

“You have no effing idea what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Tyler, out the back door.”

“No.” Tyler stood up straighter. His face still a little pale from the pain. He put his hands on his hips. His jaw jutted out in a display of cussed stubbornness. She knew enough about him to realize he wasn’t budging. “You don’t want to be seen with me.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect she’d hurt his feelings. “Please, she’ll be really pissed to see you here.”

“So? You’re over twenty-one. You’re an adult. This is
your
life, she doesn’t get a vote.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right I don’t understand. Every time she shows up—and that’s a lot—you kick me out or tell me to stay home.”

“Tyler, please.”

“Nope, I’m staying. Payback’s a bitch.”

Too late for more pleading, Lavender pasted a fake smile on her face and accepted her fate.

* * * * *

Tyler hadn’t a clue why he’d insisted on staying. Maybe just to be contrary. Maybe curiosity about his college coach’s ex-wife, or maybe for reasons he damned well shouldn’t explore, such as sensing their relationship was about to turn a corner, and he needed to remind Lavender what an ass he could be. Just by the furious expression her face, his message had been received loud and clear. And he wasn’t done yet.

Tyler instantly disliked Lavender’s
grand
parents. By the sour looks on their faces, the feeling was mutual. Despite the fourteen-plus inches’ difference in height, Doris Mead looked down her nose at him as if he was some kind of vermin infesting her space. Long-festering bitterness added extra lines and years to her scowling face. Maybe she’d been attractive forty-plus years ago before the hatred and anger made her a vindictive old woman.

Larry Mead let his wife do the talking but stood back with a smug, self-righteous smirk on his ruddy face. The guy barely reached Tyler’s chin and wore his disdain like a billboard. Obviously, he also ate a little too well, as evidenced by his ample belly. His gray hair was combed back and a little longish behind, like a television evangelist.

“Gram, Grandpa, this is Tyler.” When neither of them responded, she turned to Tyler, her expression pleading with him to behave himself. “Ty, this is my grandmother, Doris Mead, and my grandfather, Larry Mead.”

Doris sniffed as if she smelled something foul, while fat Larry inspected the stack of straw. If Tyler was lucky, one of the bales would fall and bury the prick. He plastered a fake smile on his face. “Mrs. Mead, it’s a pleasure.” He nodded to her husband. “Mr. Mead.”

“Dr. Mead.” Larry rewarded Tyler’s rare politeness with a curt nod and continued to poke and prod the stacked hay. Lavender rung her hands together, her eyes full of worry.

“Larry’s a psychologist.”

Oh, man, her grandfather was a shrink. She’d never mentioned that. He hated being psychoanalyzed because he knew he’d come up lacking.

Catching Tyler’s pained expression, Lavender bumbled on. “He’s not a practicing one. He’s a retired professor from the University of Washington.”

Like that made it any better. They were just the type of people who made Tyler feel inferior, and he detested feeling inferior to anyone. He stood up straighter, using his height to intimidate.

“What did you get your degree in?” Larry grinned, as if he already knew the frigging answer.

“I went pro before I got my degree.” Hell, with his grades, he’d still be trying to finish his first year if he hadn’t joined the NFL.

“You’re a football player.” Doris Mead spat out the words like some foul-tasting medicine.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stifled a grin, enjoying toying with this woman.

Doris rounded on Lavender like a prize fighter going in the for the knock-out blow. “Lavender, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? Will you ever learn?”

“Gram, he’s just a neighbor. I needed help unloading the straw.”

“Larry could have helped you.”

Tyler doubted the little prick had the strength to wrestle with a field mouse, let alone those bales. “Mrs. Mead, not to worry. Lavender keeps me around for my brawn.”

The woman blanched and turned to her husband. “Larry, perhaps, we should return when Lavender doesn’t have a
guest
.”

Tyler sprawled in a plastic lawn chair. “Mrs. M, I’m not company. I spend too much time here for that.” Tyler grinned with sheer, cussed joy.

Lavender choked and her witch of a grandmother stiffened like she had her broomstick stuck up her ass. “I prefer to be here when you’re not.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I must stink. Next time you drop in, I’ll make sure I shower.” Tyler smelled under his arms, and he thought the woman might faint. Damn, needling this hag provided great sport, so why stop now. “You know, it’s sure a small world. I had no idea Vinnie’s dad was my college football coach until a few days ago.”

Lavender’s face paled.

Every muscle in Doris’s body broadcasted her intent to see him six feet under or sinking into the channel. “We don’t refer to that man as
Vinnie’s
father. He doesn’t deserve the title.”

“No, shit? I have the highest respect for your former son-in-law. He was my college coach and a mentor. I would think he’d be an excellent father.”

Larry sputtered, while Doris’s eyes flashed fire. He might as well have said he idolized a cannibalistic serial killer. He’d made an enemy, or two, but he couldn’t stop himself, despite a twinge of guilt over Lavender’s obvious alarm.

“You, young man, have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. How dare you defend that man in my presence and my granddaughter’s presence.” Doris perched her chubby hands on her hips. Larry hurried to her side and stood helpless behind her.

Lavender jumped into the fray. “Please, Tyler. Don’t refer to Brian Gerloch as my father. As far as we’re concerned he’s dead to us. Thanks for the help with the straw.” Despite her anger, the pain and betrayal broadcast on her face kicked him in the gut.