Authors: Jami Davenport
"Is everything okay?” Rachel studied him with concern as she handed him a new beer and an opener. Mitch accepted the bottle and opened it with jerky, mechanical motions and stared straight ahead. She waved a hand in front of his face. He didn't blink. His mussed hair stood up on end. The dark circles under his eyes were the only color on his face. He looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in weeks.
"It's not Dad, is it?” Her insides tangled around each other, making it hard to breathe. Her imagination raced through several scenarios, each one worse than the previous one.
Without looking up, Mitch shook his head. Relief rushed through her. “Mitch, are you having problems at work? Is it a woman?"
"Oh hell, I wish it were that simple.” He finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with agony.
"It's not?” She touched his shoulder in a small gesture of concern.
"Hell no.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Would you care to enlighten me?"
"I'd rather not, but I don't have a choice. I'm such a fucking hypocrite."
"Try me.” She relaxed a little. Being a hypocrite didn't fit in with her worst fears.
"I need a favor. From Derek.” He spoke as if the words burned a hole in his tongue.
"From Derek? What kind of favor?” She breathed deeply and morphed into concerned sister mode, even though she considered him somewhat dramatic. A favor from Derek didn't qualify as a traumatic event in her book, even though it might in Mitch's world.
"Fuck.” He buried his head in his hands.
"That's not really a favor, and I don't think he swings both ways."
Mitch lifted his head. Irritation etched across his face. Obviously her attempt at humor fell flat.
"This is serious."
"If it involves his time, I'm not sure he has any to give. He's spread thin to the point of breaking right now. Everyone wants a piece of him."
"I was afraid of that."
Rachel sobered at his haunted expression. She ached to put her arm around his shoulders, to hug him, but the males in her family had never been touchy-feely types. “The situation has to be pretty serious if you're considering asking Derek for a favor."
Mitch buried his head in his hands. Rachel waited as her strong brother composed himself. Finally he lifted his head and met her gaze, his own eyes filled with anguish.
"It's about Ryan DeGrazio."
"Ryan? Your quarterback?"
"Yeah. Haven't you noticed he's not playing?"
She looked away. “I noticed, and I meant to ask you about him. I remember him from last year. Enough talent to go to a big college, maybe even pro. Incredible talent. Great arm. Good size—"
"Rachel.” He stared at her.
"Sorry, I can't help it. I just think that way."
He shook his head and stared heavenward. “You should have been born a man."
"About Ryan?"
Mitch rubbed his hands back and forth on his thighs. He swallowed and cleared his throat but didn't look at her. “Ryan said he felt off at the beginning of the season. He wasn't playing well. No energy. Fatigued too easily. Getting sick to his stomach. We thought it was some type of flu or ulcers. God knows, the kid has plenty to worry about, but it kept getting worse. I finally talked him into seeing a doctor a month ago. He has cancer. Stage four. They give him six months or less. He's only seventeen.” Mitch choked on the last few sentences.
"Oh, Mitch. I'm so sorry.” She sat on the arm of his chair and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, so am I.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. He turned his head to meet her gaze. His bloodshot eyes were rimmed with tears. “Derek is his hero. He wants to meet him."
"Ryan is the one you took under your wing a few years ago."
"That's the one. Single mother. When she's not bartending, she barhops. Father in jail. I think Ryan has spent more time at my house over the years than at his own. I've coached him since junior high."
"Against all the odds, he's a good kid."
"You have to know how hard it is for me to ask this of Derek. I hate the bastard."
Closing her eyes for a moment and regretting what she had to do, she did it anyway. “You need to ask him yourself."
"I can't ask him. I can't. Who says he'd listen?"
Rachel glanced out the window of her house as the lights flicked on in the barn. “He just walked into the barn, doing his night check on the horses."
"Yeah, then he'll do a night check on you."
Rachel's eyes narrowed in anger and irritation. Mitch hit a little close to the truth. “Maybe so, but it's none of your damn business. I haven't lost sight of my goal."
His skeptical expression told it all. He didn't believe her. She wasn't sure she believed herself anymore.
A sharp rap on her door caused her brother to raise one eyebrow, but he bit his tongue. Sighing, Rachel opened the door. “Dare, come in."
"Who's parked out—” Derek took two steps in the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw Mitch. For a moment, they stared at each other, like defensive and offensive linemen sizing each other up.
Scowling, Derek turned to Rachel. “Sorry, I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave.” He turned to the door, hand on the knob when Rachel wrapped her fingers around his arm and steered him back into the room.
"Derek, Mitch has something to ask you."
Derek opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and snapped it shut. He focused his attention on Mitch. “Really? You're actually going to lower yourself to speak to me?"
Mitch bristled and clenched his fists. Rachel stepped symbolically between them. “Grow up, both of you."
"We have nothing to say to each other.” Derek growled. He pivoted back toward the door. His stiff back betrayed his anger.
"Wait.” Mitch forced the word out of his mouth. “I need a favor."
Derek froze in the act of opening the door. In slow motion, he turned to face her brother. “You need a favor? Has hell frozen over? Is the earth standing still? Have the Lumberjacks won the Super Bowl?"
"No. You have to know it's taking a lot for me to do this."
"Yeah, I can imagine.” Derek's voice dripped sarcasm.
"Just listen. It'll only take a minute.” Rachel pleaded with her eyes. Derek's expression softened a little as he looked at her. His look wasn't lost on her brother. Mitch's jaw twitched and his eyes lit on fire, yet he gathered his control about him. He explained all about Ryan and his cancer. “Last year he was my first-string quarterback, and we made it all the way to the state semifinals."
Derek's defensive expression disappeared. His gaze flicked to Rachel, concern gentling his dark eyes. He nodded to encourage Mitch to continue. Her heart wrapped itself around this compassionate man, who found it hard to say no to people in need, while guilt ate at her insides and denial raged in her brain. Derek wasn't a man who'd drop her father for a loss. Was he?
"We dedicated this year to him. The team hasn't lost a game, and Ryan's attended every one of them. He's a hard-core Cougar and Jacks fan. You're his hero."
"Me?” Derek pointed at his own chest as if he couldn't imagine being anyone's hero. “I don't deserve the title."
"You won't get any argument from me on that subject.” Mitch almost smiled. Derek did.
"What do you need? An autographed football?"
"Uh, I was hoping for more than that."
"Okay. What?” Derek's expression turned wary.
"He's a quarterback. He wants to throw you a pass."
"Oh.” Derek looked away. For a minute, Rachel worried he might actually decide to choose this precise time to practice saying no.
Looking back at them, he cleared his throat. “I don't have any time this week. I'll see what I can do in the next couple of weeks."
"Whatever you can manage.” Mitch's frown indicated he doubted Derek would spare the time it took to run one play.
Rachel walked her brother to his truck, leaving Derek in the house. Mitch glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “Isn't he leaving too?"
"He will. He just needs to talk to me."
"Yeah right. Talk. I'm sure that's all he'll be doing."
"I'm a big girl, Mitch. Time to face facts. If I want to have an affair with Derek, I will. If I don't, I won't. Simple as that."
"I'll never forgive him. We were buddies. We grew up together, hung out together. I trusted him."
"I'll get to the truth in time.” Even though with each passing day, she dreaded the inevitable confrontation more and more.
"I worry you're getting in too deep. You're my baby sister."
Rachel laughed and gave him a hug. “I love you, Mitchie."
"I love you too.” He hugged her back, then smiled his lopsided grin and squeezed her arm. Turning, he reached for his car door and opened it.
"Find yourself a girlfriend. That football team of yours is your life. You need to do something for you."
He shrugged. “It's not that easy. Good women are hard to find."
"So are good men.” Rachel sighed. She wished she knew someone for Mitch, but she didn't. Oddly enough, she didn't think there were many women good enough for him.
Derek watched her warily as she came back in the house. “Do you want me to leave?"
"Why? Because my brother was here?"
"Well, he does hate me, and he hates us being together. Not enough to prevent him from asking me a favor, but enough to put pressure on you to end it.” His voice sounded surly and childish, but he couldn't quite rise above the feelings.
"Are you going to help him out?” Her meadow green eyes doused water on his bad mood.
"No, I'm not going to
help him out
. If I can find the time, I'll help the kid out, but it won't be for Mitch. Stuff like this is hard for me. I take it to heart."
She nodded. “I understand. I knew something was eating at Mitch lately. I didn't know it was Ryan. He's been my brother's special project since junior high."
Derek chewed on his lower lip. To be honest, he had so many of these types of requests that he had no choice but to refuse. Most weren't nearby, making it a little easier. This kid was in his backyard. If he could make the time, he'd drop by.
Glancing up, he met Rachel's steady gaze. Damn, sometimes he swore she stripped away his every defense until she was in his backfield and ready to sack his heart. He didn't want his heart sacked or his soul bared. Yet every time he mounted a good attack, she wriggled her clumsy little butt right past his defense.
They ate popcorn, drank wine, watched an episode of a reality crime show, and forgot about the world for a while.
"Interested in a little more kink tonight?"
Rachel nodded. She liked the sound of that. Escape from the everyday world would do them good.
"How's your sweet tooth?” Derek's mock serious expression clashed with the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Craving a little sugar."
"Then you came to the right place. In the kitchen, woman."
"Kitchen?” Not certain what was up, she complied.
He grinned and lifted her butt onto the counter. “Don't move. Give me a moment."
He ran outside to his truck and came back with a grocery bag. He placed it on the barstool next to her. Her eyes grew big. “Dessert or kink?” She pointed to the bag.
"Hmmm. Dessert
and
kink. Use your imagination. I am."
She
was
using her imagination, but it wasn't as decadent as his.
"We're making hot fudge sundaes.” His deep, gravelly voice reverberated with sexual promise. “Why don't you get a little more comfortable?"
Rachel licked her lips but didn't wait for a second invitation. She peeled off her sweatshirt and discarded it on the floor. Derek, ever helpful when it came to getting her naked, unzipped her jeans. She lifted her hips off the counter, and he slid her pants down her thighs, along with her underwear.
"You shaved,” he noted, looking down at the small patch of dark hair between her legs.
"Do you like it?” Her face warmed, and she squeezed her legs together.
"Baby, I like you any way I can get you.” Derek's knowing gaze shifted to her face. “You're already wet for me."
"You're hard for me."
"Can't help it. That's standard procedure when I'm around you."
"Isn't getting naked standard procedure too?"
He smiled and shed his clothes, adding them to the pile on the floor. “How's that?” His muscles rippled and flexed, especially the big one between his legs.
"Wonderful. A girl can't go wrong looking at a body like yours."
"You can look, and you'd sure as hell better touch."
"I will. Oh, I will.” She reached for him, and he moved out of range.
"Nope, first I want my sundae."
"Greedy jock."
"Yup. First I need a dish, and you look like a hot dish to me."
"Where do you get these corny lines?"
"Lay back on the counter and quit asking questions."
She complied, shivering with anticipation. He pulled the first item out of his bag of tricks. A bottle of chocolate liqueur. Never taking her eyes from hers, he unscrewed the cap and took a swig from the bottle. Not quite what she'd anticipated he'd do with that bottle. She tried to squelch her disappointment.
"Want a sip?"
She nodded. He cupped her head with his hand and lifted it. With the other, he tipped the bottle to her lips, and some of the syrupy liquid spilled from her mouth. Before she could wipe it off, he swooped in.
"Let me take care of that.” He licked it from her lips and chin. “Want more?"
She shook her head no, impatient for the good stuff to begin. And begin it did.
"Sorry, honey. You're getting more.” Derek drizzled the cool, sticky liquid onto one nipple, then the other, letting it slide down the sides of her breasts. He lowered his head and took a taste of one hard nipple and sucked, then licked. He moved to the other breast and sampled it too. Rachel squirmed and whimpered.
"Like that?” His husky voice was muffled as he continued to clean up his mess. The man certainly took his job seriously.
"I hate it.” Her slow smile said otherwise.