Page 15

MERIT

I stare at the phone. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

No.

No, he does not.

I pick up my cell and turn the speaker off. “But that would be weird, right?”

“Why would it be weird?”

I feel like the reasons should be obvious. “Well, for one, I don’t have a kid playing.”

His laugh is low, and it vibrates seductively through the phone line. “Well, once again, I’m definitely glad to know you don’t have a secret child. Mer, you’re overthinking this way too much. It’s a community event. People come from all over.”

“But I haven’t been to a high school football game since…well, since high school.”

“All the more reason to come.”

I won’t know anyone there. I’ll be sitting in the middle of a bunch of teenagers. A colonoscopy sounds more appealing right now.

Just like always, he reads my mind. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see my face, he still does it. It’s unnerving.

And wonderful.

“You won’t be alone. Everyone always comes. Unless they have to work, I mean.”

“Everyone?” I ask.

“Well, Will and Cullen are usually at the bar, but Raylee and Ella bring the kids. My parents come. Ridge and Crutch come if they aren’t on duty. And everybody else.” There’s a noise on the other end of the line that sounds like metal on metal, like he’s working out on a weight machine. “You’ll have plenty of people to sit with. And it’ll be more packed than normal since it’s the first game of the season.”

“You really want me there?”

He pants into the phone, slightly out of breath. Before he can answer, I interrupt him. “What are you doing?”

“Working out.”

“But I thought you met your players at the school for a workout this morning?”

“I did. We meet at six-thirty, four days a week all school year for an hour-long session. It’s not required, but most of the kids show up. I always tell them I’ll be there working out and they’re more than welcome to join.”

I grab another sweater from the large cardboard box in front of me and fold it. “And then you had actual football practice this afternoon?”

I hear him swallow a drink. “You know I did.”

“And now, you’re working out again?” I close my eyes. My mouth waters just picturing him shirtless and covered in sweat.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have so much energy to burn if a certain someone let me hang out with her tonight. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that you shooing me out of your store just two hours ago?”

I did shoo him away.

And it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. He was flushed and sweaty and sexy. He even had a piece of grass sticking out of his tousled blond hair.

What I really wanted to do was lie flat on my back with my legs spread open wide and let him have his sweaty way with me.

But alas, that would’ve been completely counterproductive to my resolve to protect my heart and take things slow.

Painfully slow.

Because I don’t think my heart could take another beating. And the sad truth is, I don’t even think my heart was that devasted by Edward.

It was mainly my brain. And my pride.

I snort. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have had to shoo you away if you weren’t so distracting. You’ve seriously thrown a kink into my work ethic lately, and now I’m having to play catch-up.”

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t have to play catch-up if you hired another part-time worker.”

I roll my eyes. Truth is, I’ve been thinking about it. Well, I was thinking about it even before Holt came into the picture. It’s true I want to pay off the loan to my ex-father-in-law as quickly as humanly possible, but when I crunch the numbers, it looks like I can add another body for just fifteen or twenty hours a week and it will only add twelve more months to my payout. That’s assuming business stays good and I can keep sending in extra on the payment. Really, in the long run, an extra year isn’t all that bad if it means I can finally start having a little bit of a personal life.

Now that there’s a reason to have a personal life, that is.

“About that…I’ve been thinking that maybe, just maybe , I could start looking for a part-time associate.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I pull the phone away from my face to make sure we didn’t get disconnected. “Holt? Did I lose you?”

His mocking voice shatters my eardrum the second I put the phone back to my ear. “I can’t believe I won that battle.”

I fight back my smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I said maybe . That doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve waved the white flag.”

His chuckle rumbles like thunder, making my body tingle. “Don’t lie, Merit.”

***

I’ve seriously underestimated high school football.

Well, to be fair, I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that the coach is a former Heisman winner. A guy who’s made three Super Bowl appearances. A former quarterback who’s actually won two of those appearances.

Hell, he’s been on the cover of a cereal box.

Plus, everyone’s saying he’s going to lead this team to a state title this year.

Regardless of the reason, there’s more people here than all of my high school football games put together. All four years. Granted, my school was small, and the coaches had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to even get enough boys for the team… but still…

This is madness.

It’s halftime and I’m standing in line at the concession stand, quietly minding my own business and people-watching. Raylee just went to the restroom, and Ridge walked over to the paramedics on duty to say hello. Everyone else is watching the band’s halftime show and visiting with friends.

Strangely enough, it’s been a great night. My nerves were on a violent rampage, shredding my stomach into knots when I walked to the front gate. Tickets for the game were already sold out, but Holt said he left my name with the front workers. Sure enough, he did. I only walked a few steps when Crutch waved me over. He was talking to some of the officers working the event and pointed me in the direction of everyone else. Of course, they were sitting at the fifty-yard line.

Prime seats. Front and center.

The royal family of football on display.

The line moves up, and I pull some dollar bills from my pocket, counting out the money for a bottle of water and a candy bar. A screech of excitement from somewhere behind me catches my attention.

“Aghh! Callie! It’s so good to see you.” I watch two girls wrap their arms around one other. They both look to be in their early twenties. One has brown hair and the other strawberry-blonde. They’re both wearing booty shorts and cropped tops.

The late summer mosquitoes must be in heaven.

“It’s great to see you. I didn’t think your little brother was playing this year,” the blonde says.

The brunette waves her hand in the air. “Oh, he’s not. He graduated last year. I brought some friends so we could get our daily dose of eye candy.” She laughs, “You know what I mean.”

“Hell, yeah, I do. I could not care less that my brother is out on that field. I only have eyes for the coach.”

The brunette sighs, “No shit. I brought my college friends with me tonight. No one believed me when I said he looks even better in person. I read that he hangs out at a bar downtown. I think we’re gonna go there tonight and scope it out. You should come with us.”

“I do love a challenge,” the blonde says with a wink.

“The hot-millionaire-husband challenge,” the other girl says with a laugh.

I’m so engrossed with their putrid conversation that I jump a mile when Raylee touches my arm. “Are you okay?”

I blink, trying to focus my wandering attention on her and Ridge. “Yeah, why?”

She sniffs the air. “Does something smell bad?”

I shake my head. “No, why?”

“Well, you’re making a funny face. Like you smell something.”

Ridge looks around, taking inventory of the crowd. It only takes a nano-second for his gaze to land on the two partially dressed trollops a few people behind me. They must say something because Ridge snickers before turning back to us. He bumps Raylee’s shoulder. “She does that.”

“Does what?”

“Makes that face when women hit on Holt.”

“What!” My scream is way louder than I mean for it to be. The guy in front of me turns around and waves his cell phone in my face, warning me to be quiet because he’s on a call.

It’s a freakin’ football stadium, dude.

Take the call in the bathroom like a normal person.

“Really?” she asks Ridge.

He smiles wickedly. “Yep. He told me.”

Frowning, I fold my arms across my chest. “Well, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Raylee completely ignores me and scans the sea of faces around us. “Who’s hitting on him?” Ridge nods his head in the direction of the two girls. “Ahhhh…” Raylee doesn’t even have the decency to hide her laugh.

“Hey!” Taking a play from cell-phone guy, I waft my dollar bills under Ridge’s nose to get his attention. “I don’t make a face.”

“Holt thinks it’s cute,” he says with a knowing smirk.

Fiery heat scorches my face in embarrassment. I immediately look at the ground, trying to find the right words. “Well… that’s completely beside the point,” I mumble in a strained whisper.

Raylee wraps her arms around me, her voice tinkles in my ear like fairy dust. “It’s completely the point. Don’t you see that, Merit?” She bumps me with her hip. “Besides, you totally make a face. I really thought someone farted.”

I can’t hold it in anymore. My laughter shoots out of me like a rocket, immediately making me snort.

It’s my turn at the order window, but Ridge nudges us out of the way. “Here, let me. Call it my amends.” He orders a variety of snacks, and we help him carry everything to our seats.

The second half passes, ending in an easy win for Holt’s team.

I’m not exactly sure what happens now. I just tuck myself behind everyone as we make our way out of the stadium. It takes a while, though, because everyone is stopping Holt’s family to offer congratulations. At the front gate, they all turn, walking down a gravel path that leads to a big building. I’m not sure where it goes, or if I’m even allowed to go with them. Out of the humongous crowd, only Holt’s family and a small spattering of others are headed that way. The majority of the people are migrating back to the parking lot.

My car is there.

I guess that’s where I’m supposed to go.

Maybe Holt’s family has special parking somewhere else or something.

I open my mouth to tell them goodbye when a little hand tugs against mine. “C’mon! We get to wait for Uncle Holt outside of the field house,” Anna says.

“Me too?”

Did I really just ask a seven-year-old that?

I’m so damn pathetic.

Teresa turns around and smiles, waiting on me to catch up. “Of course, you too. He’ll want to see you.”

My heart blossoms at the thought, but I’m quick to squash that feeling. Or, at least I try.

But based on the shit-eating grin plastered across my face, I don’t think I’m very successful.

A couple of beefy security guards are posted around the building. They nod here and there as people walk past. One guy eyes me suspiciously and opens his mouth to say something when Ray cuts him off. “It’s okay. She’s with us.”

His suspicion fades, and he gives me a polite nod instead.

Ella walks beside me, her hand protectively spread across her stomach. “There’s a list,” she says. “Only certain people are allowed to wait by the field house. You have to be a family member of a player or a coach.”

“They don’t let the other students come out here?”

She shakes her head. “That stopped after the second game last season. Too many people saw it as an easy way to get next to Holt. Reporters. Fans.” She gives me a soft smile. “Women.”

I bite my tongue to keep from growling.

I should probably buy the security guards a fruit basket. Entice them to keep up the good work.

My eyes dart to the side where a woman with auburn-colored hair and glasses snaps pictures of me and Ella. I watch as Ella’s spine stiffens. “One reporter still gets access, though. And I use that term loosely.”

I wipe under my nose to make sure I don’t have anything on my face. “Why is she taking our picture?” I ask out of the corner of my mouth. I have no idea why I’m pretending to be a ventriloquist, but it’s definitely unusual to have a stranger take your picture.

I always hated it when people did that at the events I had to attend with Edward.

“Because she’s a paparazzi.”

My eyebrows lift into my hairline. “Excuse me?”

Ella nods, a frown on her face.

“Paparazzi? Here? In Alabama?”

“She’s one of the few who covers the South. She’s stationed out of Atlanta. She comes over a couple of times a month to keep tabs on Holt. Sells his picture, makes a little cash.”

Her voice holds a dislike, which piques my curiosity. “I thought you worked with reporters and TV people all the time? Holt told me you do reports and interviews for all those true crime documentaries on TV.”

“I do. And I’m very selective on who I work with. My colleagues are true professionals, real investigators. She,” Ella says with a pickled tartness, “sells an image to the highest tabloid bidder and doesn’t care what they write in the end. Truth, lies. It makes no difference to her as long as she gets paid. Don’t get me wrong, there are some good ones out there. Chloe just isn’t one of them.” Ella cocks her head and stares at the woman. “Maybe that’ll change one day.”

“Why does Holt let her come back here then? Why give her a pass?”

“They have an… agreement of sorts.”

My throat makes a weird noise. I should mind my own business, but I think we all know that I can’t. “What kind of agreement?”

“Holt poses for a few pictures and she agrees to leave the kids alone. The first time she tries to sell a picture of one of the kids—Anna, Ty, Laura, even Nate—Holt will cut off her access. Well, at least as much as he can.”

That’s intense.

What am I supposed to say to that?

We clap as one by one, the players and other coaches come out. Crutch, who joined us a few minutes ago and notices my fidgety movements, leans over and nods at the building. “He’s always the last one out.” After what seems like an eternity, Holt emerges. Everyone cheers and hollers in congratulations.

And me?

I nearly lose my shit because he looks so good.

And because he catches my eye and winks at me.

Humbly nodding his head, he rakes his hand through his soft blond waves and fits his baseball cap back on his head. His polo shirt clings to his sweaty body, tugging against his skin in all the right places. The crowd descends on him, and I watch in jealous envy as he shakes hands and slaps shoulders, mumbling words of appreciation for supporting the team. He even hands out a few pennies to some of the kids fighting for his attention. The flex of his arm muscles alone is enough to drive a virgin into the whorehouse.

Weaving through the bodies, he walks over to us, quickly hugging Ray and Teresa before reaching into his pocket where he pulls out two lollipops and hands them to Anna and Laura. Every step he takes puts him closer and closer to me. My fingers ache to touch him. My mouth yearns to taste him.

Since I can’t do either of those things here, I simply fold my hands in front of me.

“I’m glad you came. I was afraid you’d back out,” he says.

I shrug. “I had to see what all the fuss was about.”

His chuckle is low and breathy. I can smell mint on his breath. “And?”

I frown and grunt. “Ehh. Nothing special.”

He takes a step closer, erasing the distance between us. His whisper crawls across the shell of my ear, draping me in intimacy, despite the crowd. “I think you forget that you wear your emotions all over your face.”

I can barely swallow. I turn my head, hoping that no one can see me. In my haste, my lips graze against his neck. He smells like grass and tastes like salt. “And what does my face say?”

“That you can’t wait for your mouth to be on mine.”

Damn. Straight.

An impatient voice interrupts us. “Holt! C’mon, Holt. I have to drive back to Atlanta.”

Holt takes a step back, grinding his teeth. Turning around, he tosses his hands in the air. “Sorry, Chloe. I’m just a little caught up. First game, first win. It’s a good night.” His fingertips rest against his waist and he smiles for her.

Her camera chatters into the night air with every picture she takes. Tap, tap, tap. Click, click, click. “And who’s this?” she asks with a nod in my direction.

Holy shit. Don’t tell her who I am.

Holt turns to look at me, gauging my reaction. I must look like a deer in the headlights. He bites back a laugh. “A friend of the family.”

“Based on the way you’re looking at her, I’d say she’s your friend, Holt. I’ve never known you to be one to make googly eyes.”

“I didn’t know you charted my eye movement through that lens of yours.”

She hangs the camera at her side, taking a moment to enjoy the banter. “I chart everything you do. You’re my assignment.”

That comment chafes him a little bit, and I watch Holt’s jaw twitch.

Chloe immediately smirks.

Ridge laughs and strolls into the frame. “I still don’t know how pictures of him buying eggs and toilet paper at the grocery store constitute a newsworthy piece of information. Chloe, I have to run into the drugstore on my way home tonight to buy toothpaste. You think you could get any money for a shot like that?” He lifts his arm and flexes his impressive bicep. “I’m not too shabby of a subject.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Ridge. You know I save all the pictures of you just for myself. Well, you and that delicious brother of yours.” She quickly sidesteps him and plants herself in front of me. “Care to give your name?”

“All right, time to wrap this up, Chloe,” Holt says. “You should have plenty of shots.”

“Let me just get one of you and your friend , and I’ll be good to go.”

Holt quickly tells her to mind her own business. From the corner of my eye, Crutch takes a step forward. Crutch, the police detective, may be one hell of a sexy man, but he’s also kind of scary. I don’t really feel like causing a scene, so I shake my head, letting him know it’s okay.

I nod, giving her the go-ahead. “It’s fine. One picture.”

Holt’s face falls into a portrait of concern. “Mer, you don’t have to do this,” he whispers.

“Holt, the kids are watching, all these people are watching. Let’s just take the picture and get on with our night.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He’s right. I don’t.

What if a picture of me ends up in a magazine plastered across every newsstand in America? I’d be mortified.

Completely mortified.

But… he was right when he read my face.

I can’t wait for my mouth to be on his.

It’s all I think about.

All. The. Time.

I want more. So much more.

True, he saw me in my bra that night in the bar. But since then? There’s been no physical intimacy but kissing. Granted, we’ve been making out like two horny teenagers who just got their braces off, but I want more . I’ve never been so anxious to get to second base. And I can’t quite do that with a paparazzi following our every move.

I can’t believe these thoughts are even swirling through my brain. Two years ago, I packed a bag and left my cheating husband. I never thought I would want another man.

What’s even crazier? It’s not just a normal man. It’s a man who has multiple websites dedicated to detailing every attribute of how sexy he is.

One even rates his shirtless pictures on a scale of one to ten. It’s called the ‘Holt Hotness Scale’. Yeah, I’ve scoured more of his internet fandom than I care to admit.

When I don’t answer, he just assumes I didn’t hear him. He leans even closer and whispers again, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

I look into his gorgeous blue eyes, and the emotion there cements my decision. “Yes, I do. I’m making her leave. So we can be alone.” I lick my lips. “Don’t you wanna be alone with me?”

Clearing his throat, he folds an arm around my shoulder and turns back to Chloe. “Say cheese.”