Playing for Keeps (25 page)

“I’m sure she knows,” Erica told him. “And you really, really need to stay away from her.”

“You think if I see her again I might bang her again?” he asked playfully. “Yeah, that’s always a danger.”

Erica pretended to glare. “You keep your hands off those twins.
Both
of them.”

“And you won’t tell the big guy?”

“It’s not my place. But you guys should. This has been hard on him.”

“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t justify pimping you out to Deck,” he reminded her teasingly.

“Exactly.”

Even Decker laughed. “So
now
can I call him?”

“No, I’ll do it. You guys watch the movie.”

“Are we spending the night?” Bannerman asked. “’Cause if we are, I’ll have a beer.”

“There are two bedrooms and a fold-out couch. So yes, I want you to stay.”

“I get the bedroom.”

“Why you?” Decker demanded. “
I’m
her date.”

“You broke my hand. So I get the bed. That’s how it works.”

“Fair enough.”

Erica watched in relief as they bumped fists. Then Decker loaded up the DVD while Bannerman got a six-pack from the refrigerator and came back to settle into the easy chair across from the couch. Within minutes they were trading Jack Nicholson impressions, a phenomenon she knew from experience would just get worse as the show went on. She had seen this with guys in her dorm, with her brother’s friends, and even with her own boyfriends.

Maybe with the right permissions she and Steve could even work it into a Lager Storm campaign someday.

“Hey!” Bannerman boomed at her. “Are you calling the big dog or not?”

“I’ll do it. Then I’ll be back. And if you’ve been good, I’ll make some popcorn.”

• • •

Sitting on the bed in her aunt’s cheerful blue-and-white bedroom, she took a deep breath, wondering which of Johnny’s many, many messages to check out first. Deciding on the earliest one, which he had apparently sent less than half an hour after the “full-service like Murf” one, she leaned back and listened wistfully as he said, “Hey, Erica, just disregard my first message. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just out of ideas, I guess. We had a crap practice, and that asshole Coz waved a list of available kickers in Deck’s face. So he needs someone to talk to bad. But I don’t feel like sharing. So I’ll pick you up and we’ll head for the coast as planned.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “He’ll never know what he missed. So call me soon, okay?”

She shook her head sadly. If only he had used that warm, sexy voice during the first message, maybe she wouldn’t have taken it so hard. Or at least she would have called him back right away to demand clarification, annoyed but not devastated.

Depressed, she worked through the rest of the messages. A text asking for flight details. Another text sounding concerned that something had gone wrong.

And then a voice mail that demonstrated he had just listened to her diatribe for the first time. There was such disbelief in his voice—such devastation and confusion. And so much hurt, she imagined it was how she herself had sounded.

Choking on his own emotions, he said: “Hey, Erica, baby, I just heard your message. Jesus, you’ve got it all wrong. Seriously, I just wanted you to
talk
to the guy. I’m a fucking idiot. I keep trying to remember what I said—well, never mind. Just believe me, it wasn’t like that. You just always make me feel so great. If I’ve messed this up—” He paused for a deep breath. “Call me back, okay? And I’ll try to reach Deck again too. He’s not answering his phone, so he won’t know we canceled. So call me. Okay? I love you, baby, so call me back and we’ll get this straightened out.”

The next message followed quickly, with a simple: “Hey, I just realized I didn’t say I was sorry. So again, I’m fucking up. But I
am
sorry, baby. So just call me back. I’ll be waiting.”

Two more texts followed, each just asking her to call, and warning her that he hadn’t been able to reach Decker.

Finally, there was a voice mail that he had apparently left within the hour. “Hey, Erica. So I guess you’re still pissed. I don’t blame you. I haven’t heard back from Deck, so I figure he’s with you. And he probably set things straight. Or at least tried. He’s a good friend. So listen to him, okay? And tell him to answer his damned phone. I’m gonna get some sleep, but call whenever you want. Just don’t give up on me, okay?”

With a sigh, she texted him:
Get some sleep. We’re fine. I’ll call you in a.m.

His response was immediate:
Can I call you now?

Shld wait til a.m. Both exhausted. But all is fine. Turning phone off. G’nite.

And then she did turn the phone off, because she really was exhausted. And so was he. That had been Decker’s point, hadn’t it? That he was carrying the world on his shoulders? And now she had heard that in his voice.

So she needed to think this through. Because as well-meaning as they both might be, things really weren’t fine at all. What had started as a time-limited hookup—a “fling,” to use his word—had turned into something ponderous. Now they were fighting all the time. Why? Because she was taking it too seriously. And to be fair, he probably was too.

They needed to let each other off the hook. Or if they dared, try to ratchet it back. Rediscover what had worked so well for them. Like breathless, unscheduled sex against doors, forbidden interludes that could only last twenty minutes, sexy romps that meant nothing because neither of them could afford for it to mean anything.

She couldn’t date him because of her job. He couldn’t date her because he was looking for something substantial. They had seen all that so clearly that first day in the bar and had given themselves permission to grab what they could.

Her vision of a romantic talk had been foolish. They didn’t
have
a future. And that was a good thing. The thing that allowed them to be together at all.

And she had almost messed that up.

She just hoped it wasn’t too late to recapture what they
did
have before it was too late.

• • •

“So?” Decker demanded when she returned to the living room. “Is he coming up? Did you tell him I didn’t touch you?”

She smiled, hoping that the cold water she had splashed on her tear-streaked face had done its work. “He’s tired, so he’s going to get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Just like that?”

“She’s lying,” Bannerman assured him. “No guy’s gonna leave his hot girlfriend alone with a stud like me. Or even a guy like you.”

“Fuck off,” Decker drawled, then he winced at Erica. “Sorry, he’s a bad influence. So it sounds like you guys are okay? Mind if I give him a quick call before he turns in?”

“Just wait for morning, okay?”

He studied her face, then nodded. “I forgot you’re on East Coast time. Maybe you should just go to bed. We’ll keep it down.”

“And miss my favorite part of the movie?”

She smiled as her words elicited another round of shouts about who could—or couldn’t—handle the truth.

Then she settled down on the couch with Decker while Bannerman brought her a glass of wine. Then he plopped down on her other side and slipped his arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t exactly the weekend she had planned, and if she thought about it too much, she’d definitely start crying again.

But for the moment it was sweet, so she just took a quick sip of wine, then rested her head against the halfback’s brawny chest and fell asleep.

• • •

She awoke to the sound of rain being blown against the window with only dim rays of sunlight to tell her it was morning. She was under the covers, still wearing her jeans and shirt—and bra—so she figured her guests had behaved. Bannerman had probably carried her. Not that Decker couldn’t have done so easily.

Such studs,
she told herself wistfully. If she and Johnny broke up she might never see them again. But at least they’d always have these memories.

She sat up, noting that someone was showering in the hall bath, while a smell of dark, rich coffee filled the air.

She could definitely get used to this.

Picking up her phone, she saw two new messages from Johnny. One from the night before that simply said
Goodnight babe
and a new one from six a.m. that made her smile.

Hey did you spend the night with Deck?

She replied:
AND Bannerman. I’ll call in a bit.

Ducking into the master bathroom, she showered and put on cozy sweats, toweled her hair for a couple of minutes, and wandered into the living room, where Bannerman was sitting in his boxers and a white T-shirt watching ESPN and drinking coffee.

“Hey,” he said, standing and grinning. “You look like hell in the morning.”

“I love you too,” she drawled. “Did you make the coffee?”

“That was Deck. So?” He eyed her sternly. “Did you call the big dog?”

“We’ve been in touch. Do you want some breakfast?”

“Me and Deck are taking you out.”

She shook her head. “I’m making pancakes. That’s the routine, right? And eggs and sausage and hash browns and toast. And anything else you want.”

His phone made a barking sound and she laughed out loud. “Let me guess, Johnny?”

“Can I answer it?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Put it on speaker. And don’t use the word ‘bang.’”

He laughed and answered the call. “Hey, John. How’s it going?”

“Are you with Erica?”

“Yeah, she’s making pancakes for me and Deck.”

“You’re lucky,” Johnny murmured. “Can you ask her to call me?”

“She’s right here.” Bannerman handed her the phone.

“Hi, Johnny.”

“Hey.” His exhale sounded ragged. “So we’re good?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a freaking genius,” Bannerman called out. “I think she actually fixed Deck.”

“What?” Johnny’s tone grew urgent. “Hey, Erica? Can you take me off speaker? I need to talk to you.”

She did so, then hurried into the bedroom. “We had a nice night. Platonic, obviously. I’m sorry if I overreacted about that.”

“I went crazy when I heard your message. I must have sounded like such an a-hole.”

“Just forget it.”

“Are you kidding? If you knew how I felt about you . . .” He cleared his throat. “Tell me where you are and I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll come to you. Are you home?”

“You don’t have to come to my house, Erica. I was a dick about that too.” He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. “Did you really cure Deck? I didn’t even think that was possible. I just figured he needed a shoulder to cry on. And you’ve got amazing shoulders. Damn, where
are
you?”

“Stay at your place. I’ll have one of the guys drop me off. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

He laughed dryly. “You’ll get here quicker with Bannerman. But Deck’s probably safer.”

“Okay. We still need to eat breakfast. Then I have to turn in my rental car. So it’ll probably be four hours or so before we get there.”

“And you’re not going to tell me where you are?” he asked, adding quickly, “Because I don’t deserve it? That’s fair. Just get here quick.”

“I will,” she promised, her throat closing over a sob. “Bye, Johnny.”

Chapter 12

Bannerman and Decker fought over who would drive her, but the kicker won out by observing smugly, “I saw her first. So back off.”

And so she rode in the soft leather seat of his quiet, powerful Mercedes, getting to know him even better, and avoiding the new elephant in the room. Because now that the Bannerman-Decker feud had ended, the Spurling-McCall one loomed large. And for a nice guy like Sean Decker, that didn’t sit well. Especially now that he had his own independent friendship with her.

He was too polite to ask her the underlying question: How could anyone possibly believe that a great guy like Johnny Spurling would pimp out his own girlfriend?

So he broke it down into bite-sized inquiries. What had John done to make Erica feel so unloved? What kind of relationship did they have? Why had the QB kept it so quiet for so long? And even when he revealed it, why hadn’t he introduced them all sooner?

“He’s nuts about you, Erica,” he kept telling her. “You should hear the things he says.”

“That’s not the issue,” she explained finally. “He’s under stress. Carrying everyone on his shoulders, just like you told me. And
I’m
stressed too. So we’re a mismatch.” She gave him a wistful smile. “It was good at the start though. When it was just a hookup. You should have seen us together.”

“You make it sound so final.” He grimaced. “All the stress started when I broke Bam’s hand, right? So maybe now that we’re good again, you guys can go back to having fun.”

“It didn’t start then, so please don’t get
that
in your head. Or I really will have to sleep with you.”

“Or at least take your shirt off?” he said, laughing.

She smiled. “When are you telling Johnny about the mix-up with the twins? The sooner the better, really.”

“He’d take it better coming from you.”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Bannerman’s version is pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot.”

She moistened her lips. “Let’s just hope Melody doesn’t tell your coach before the season ends. I mean, we’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s her, not the wife, right?”

“Yeah, it’s the slutty twin. Not Kerrie. She’s a class act, Erica. So don’t worry about that. Coz’ll get pissed, but we can weather the storm.”

“Because banging a coach’s ex is different than banging his wife?”

Decker cracked up. “You’d better clean up your language before John hears it or he’ll strangle Bam. We can’t be the Triple Threat without all three of us, remember?” He seemed about to say more on that subject, but the gates to Johnny’s property had come into view, so he just finished with a wistful, “You and John will be fine. I’m sure of it. But if you ever need me, just know you’ve got a friend for life.”

• • •