Authors: Lola Karns
“What?”
“Just something I heard. Stupid bathroom gossip.” Keira came up with the wackiest stories and relished sharing.
“Let’s go back.”
***
The second half was a nightmare. Their opponents, the Redhawks fought their way back into the game, forcing the Ravens to the line to shoot free throws, which was their known weakness. The home crowd expressed their dislike of this tactic by booing at every foul committed by the other team.
Kyle hated that noise. Maybe for an egregious foul, but for the home crowd to boo so much…. The sound got into the kids heads, defeating them before they had a chance to lose on the court. Coach Meyer dismissed his idea on how to turn the game around. There was no point in stewing about it. He had morale to boost.
The Redhawks committed another hard foul, throwing the Raven’s shooting guard onto the floor. The crowd silenced at the horrible
thunk
of his head hitting the floor. Along with the rest of the coaching staff, he rushed to the floor to help their injured player. At least their boy was alert. After several minutes, he stood and walked off the court to the sound of applause.
When the referees didn’t call a flagrant foul, Coach grew livid. Even the bald spot on his head turned red. His considerable girth bounced up and down as he stomped toward the head referee and yelled in the man’s face. Kyle did his best to keep the players calm on the sidelines as war raged at the half-court. The referee made a telltale thumb jerk, ejecting Coach from the game.
Meyer stormed off, working the crowd into a frenzy, pausing long enough to point at Kyle. This was his chance to act as head coach. He wanted to win this game, not for his injured player, and not for Coach Meyer or the Raven’s overall record. He had to prove to himself he could make the right calls and, if he was honest, to impress Gwen. When he saw her before the game, she looked sad, even as she mustered a smile. She might not come to another game, so she deserved to see a victory.
In the huddle, he encouraged his team to keep their cool. They couldn’t afford to let the Redhawks get cheap points. He reminded them of the skills he saw every day in practice. Lastly, he made the substitution Coach Meyer had rejected earlier. The team lost speed and size with their third-string point guard, but the undersized sophomore could sink the threes and, more importantly, was a ninety-two percent free-throw shooter. In response to the raised eyebrows from his players, he explained his plan to move the other point to shooting guard, and the team got on board. The whistle blew, and the players regrouped.
Don’t blow this
.
The game became a lot more nerve-racking and less fun once Kyle took over. The crowd’s initial reaction seemed mean, but he appeared unfazed, looking only at the court. She leaned forward in her seat, covering her ears with her hands.
Mom muttered how it was a good thing James wasn’t here to see this. He would not have approved. Gwen didn’t understand why people were upset or why they took out their anger on Kyle. They booed, but he was an oasis of calm. He kept his shoulders squared and his gaze even, looking every inch like the elite soldier he once was. She was nervous enough for both of them. Her leg bounced as the Ravens fell further and further behind. The shortest player on the court, number fifty-seven, turned to the bench, eyes wide. Kyle nodded his head, a stark contrast to the screaming, stomping Coach Meyer.
She couldn’t watch, but she couldn’t look away. The action shifted, players moved about the floor, whistles blew, and balls went through hoops. Fifty-seven started sinking shots, drawing a crowd of defenders. The Ravens appeared to be everywhere at once. Mom told her this was a good sign because options opened up for other players as the Redhawks struggled with who to guard.
The final buzzer sounded: Ravens 76, Redhawks 64.
When the game ended, fans crowded toward the bench, shouting encouragement and congratulations for the players and the coach. If she joined them, to congratulate Kyle in person, her family would have to wait. Mom nudged her as she tugged her hat over her hair.
“Go on, dear. He’s your friend. I’m in no hurry.”
As she neared the floor, the sound of her name broke through the din as Kyle called to her and asked the crowd to make way. The attention embarrassed her, as the mostly male crowd parted.
He leaned in so close, his light perspiration made her swoon, or at least want to take a long, deep breath, so she did.
“I’m glad you came. Can you stay a little longer, or do you need to hurry back?”
“I came with my mom and sister….”
“I’ll take you home, if you’re able to wait a little bit.”
She glanced back at her family, but Mom waved her hand in a go-on gesture. Something had shifted in the way he looked at her tonight and, maybe if she stayed, she’d figure out what. “Sure.”
Waiting in the empty corridor where the security guard directed her seemed like the closest she’d ever come to being a rock-and-roll groupie. Motherhood had brought an end to her late nights. The clock on her phone proved only fifteen minutes had passed since Mom and Keira said good-bye. Her foot drummed against the floor. The little game on her phone failed to amuse her. She was about to check the time when his footsteps, with their distinctive uneven thuds, echoed.
Robotic? No way
.
Kyle in a suit should be against the law. And if it were a crime, she would have to do her duty and make a citizen’s arrest, and he might even resist. She forced her mind to stop playing out this scenario. It was far too dangerous and stupid to think such thoughts. Then again, maybe something mutual existed since he’d asked her to stay, or maybe he was being the same good friend he’d always been. He met her gaze. There was nothing casual in the way he looked at her. And she liked it.
His cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot. The substitution strategy had worked. He’d gotten the right personnel on the court at the right time. The players did the hard work, and they chalked up another victory. That was his excuse, but Gwen was the real reason. Leaning against the tiled wall, she oozed sex appeal in her dark jeans and the snug-fit Ravens T-shirt he’d given her for Christmas. The letters curved around the edges of her breasts, inviting a second look. Her glossy hair fanned out over the collar of her pale pink parka, begging for a touch. Tonight, confidence soaring, he planned to do just that.
“Thanks for waiting.” His voice caught, emerging husky. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“It was fun. You were great out there.” She tugged at her scarf, strands of hair caught in the weave.
“Thanks.” When he moved closer, an irresistible strawberry scent beckoned. His hand slid underneath her hair to liberate the shiny silk from the scarf. His fingers grazed the soft warmth of her neck. With a tilt of his head, he could guide her lips to his, but a sharp intake of breath caught him off guard.
Were his hands cold? Had he offended her? “Sorry. I—”
“Don’t be. You surprised me.”
What would induce that throaty gasp again? Several ideas—well, most of them—involved a distinct lack of clothing. Fear of rejection had cost him the chance to be with Gwen once. He refused to make that mistake again even though she had more reason than ever to dismiss his advances. But tonight was his night. Failure would not occur. He would make her gasp and groan even if they stayed fully clothed.
They walked to his Jeep, and she chatted about the game she didn’t fully understand. Her efforts charmed him. Their breath made small clouds in front of them as they crossed the parking lot. Once inside, he started the engine and cranked up the heat.
“Where to? It’s too cold to go out to the covered bridge.” Her blush was worth naming the notorious isolated bridge where romantic couples sought quality time in their cars. “We’ll avoid the sport bars, too, I think. I’m not in the mood to talk about the game. Are you hungry? We could go to Pablo’s?” He wasn’t hungry, not for food anyway, but an invitation to his apartment carried too much risk. When he told her about his injuries, she’d leave. Nothing would spoil this night, not even him.
“Or we could go to my shop, drink some coffee or have cookies and milk. I have my keys.”
“Perfect.” His heart thumped as he put the car in gear. No one would bother them. They would be alone in a cozy space she’d created. The absence of students left the streets virtually empty. Her gloved hand covered his for the five-minute drive. After a few turns, they parked behind the store and entered through the kitchen.
“What will you have? Unfortunately, I have tons of inventory left from today.” She opened the back side of the display counter, revealing about a dozen or so of six different types of cookies. “I swore I wouldn’t sell day-old cookies, but I may bundle up some at a discount rate tomorrow since there are so many.” The touch of sadness in her voice made him want to whip out his wallet and buy them all up.
“I’ll take an oatmeal raisin, a chocolate chip, and…. Are those ginger snaps?”
“Actually, those are molasses cookies. They are spicy like a ginger snap, but different.” She stacked an assortment of cookies on a plate. “It’s my nana’s recipe. See what you think. Coffee?”
“Don’t make coffee on my account. I’m too wired already. I’d rather have milk.”
“Me, too.” She poured milk into a couple of mugs and started toward the corner table, which featured a plush, secondhand love seat. He followed with the cookies. A rapping on the window drew their attention to a couple outside. Gwen pointed to the Closed sign, but the couple persisted.
He walked to the door. “We’re closed.”
She rushed to his side, adding, “We’ll be open Tuesday at seven a.m. We hope to open in the evenings starting in late January.”
The couple walked away.
“I could have made a sale, but….” She sounded frustrated and tired.
“I think we should stay in the kitchen. I doubt people will bother us if we have lights on back there.”
A spark returned to her eyes. “If we sit on the floor behind the counter, no one will know we we’re here. They’ll think someone left the lights on by accident.”
Sitting side-by-side on the floor, backs against the counter, they set the plate of cookies between them along with their mugs of milk, handy for dunking. He picked up the firm molasses cookie with large pieces of sugar that stuck to his fingers. The crisp outside yielded to a softness that melted in his mouth. Sweet with a hint of saltiness to make it interesting, just like Gwen. Tonight, he’d see if she would melt in his arms, and his mouth. It was his night.
As she nibbled her second cookie, she watched him eat. Seeing him happy brought joy to her heart. Tiny crinkles formed around the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled.
Sexy
. She liked his nose, his square jawline, the bow of his lips, and the hint of dark blond stubble at the end of a long day. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to try and muss it up. During the game, she’d seen him rub his temples, fingers scrunching into his hairline. After the game, his short sandy-blond hair didn’t look ruffled at all. Was it even possible for him to look rumpled? Perhaps only in that brief instant before waking when the world is still full of possibility. Maybe, some other day, she would find out.
Prior experience taught her nothing would ever happen for them if she spent her time dreaming instead of doing. Words spun in her head. Had he suggested the covered bridge as a joke? Back in school, they’d joked about going there once or twice when there was nothing else going on.
Her tongue sat heavy in her mouth, unable to move. What if she said something inappropriate or worse, kissed him again only to be pushed away? She couldn’t take that kind of rejection. If he didn’t return her interest, their friendship wouldn’t survive, not when he would know for sure about her crush.
Their hands brushed as they reached for the cookie plate. Instead of a quick retreat, he slid his hand over the top of hers, allowing his fingers to find the gaps between hers as they curled into her palm.
She stared, needing visual confirmation his hand covered hers. She glanced at him and knew it was true. Her fingers intertwined with his, pressing them closer. His green eyes darkened as his other hand rose to her face, tracing its contours with his thumb. Her eyes closed, and she leaned toward his touch. The slight roughness of his masculine fingers contrasted the gentleness of his caress. Instinct took over. She parted her lips, and her tongue pressed against her teeth as a moan escaped from deep inside her.
Sucker punched by a glance
. The hushed, throaty moan took his breath away. He wanted nothing more than to hear that wonderful sound again. Gwen’s skin was even softer than he’d imagined. His thumb drew small circles on her chin, grazing puckered lips. She responded with a head tilt that brought the firmness of her teeth against him. If she touched him with her tongue, he wouldn’t restrain himself.
With a war between lust and logic waging in his mind, he forced his fingers away from her rosy lips. His hand dropped to her collarbone and then slid to rest on one shoulder. Disappointment, confusion, a bit of anger, and, in the end, relief flickered in those chocolate eyes.
“My gorgeous Gwendolyn.”
His mind filled with reasons why he should stop before he fell completely and hopelessly in love with her. He’d likely move to another town in a year or so. She didn’t know about his leg. If something awful happened, they wouldn’t stay friends. But friendship wasn’t enough.
He remembered the euphoria of earlier, seeing Gwen cheering him on to victory at the basketball arena. Of her soft skin and full lips. Tonight was his night. Tomorrow would still come, but it was a long way off. Her fingers slid to his thigh. He had to move it, so he could think again. Holding her hand made his brain stop.
“Your life is so busy now with your business and Chloe. I don’t know that I should intrude….”
She placed her index finger on his lips. “Shhh. You think too much.”