Читать книгу Winning the Right Brother - Abigail Strom, Abigail Strom - Страница 9

It would be a lot easier to forget about Alex if Will would stop talking about him day in, day out. How was she supposed to stop thinking about the man when he was her son’s favorite topic of conversation?

The worst part was that the stories Will told made it harder to hate him. Will was a good judge of character, and he was crazy about Alex. Coach has such a great work ethic. Coach has so much integrity. Coach is so tough and smart and funny and—

It was Sunday afternoon, and Holly and Will were eating pizza in front of the TV and watching—big surprise—a football game. During the commercial breaks Will treated her to more rave reviews of Alex the Great.

“Mom, are you listening? Isn’t that amazing? Don’t you think Coach is—”

“Amazing?”

“Well, isn’t he?”

Holly popped a mushroom into her mouth and licked tomato sauce off her fingers. “You bet. He’s a paragon.”

Will folded his arms and frowned at her. “Why do you always do that when I talk about Coach?”

“Do what?”

“The sarcasm. The eye rolling. Did you guys really hate each other that much when you were in high school?”

Holly sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Yes, we really did. Sorry. It’s just hard for me to see Alex the way you do. When I remember the way he used to be.”

Will looked interested. “So, what was he like back then? When you were teenagers.”

Holly pulled the purple-and-yellow crocheted throw off the back of the couch and tucked it around her knees. Her grandmother had made it, and it always gave her a feeling of security.

“He was … irritating. So are you going to watch this game or what?’Cause if not, I’m going to put on the financial news.”

“Geez, Mom. If you don’t want to talk about Coach just say so. You don’t have to threaten me with unholy torture.”

That Friday night, Will got to play for most of the second half. He completed seven passes, and Holly was pretty sure she’d never seen him so happy in his entire life.

Of course she also saw Alex, but she was getting used to that. Seeing him down there on the sidelines, fired up and intense, was becoming part of her Friday night routine—just like avoiding him was. But it was worth it to see Will so happy, so confident.

She wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but she was actually starting to enjoy going to the games. She understood them better, for one thing, thanks to constant tutoring from her son. Then there was the crisp autumn air, the excitement of the crowd … and the fact that the Weston Wildcats were kicking butt.

Of course there was still a little too much pummeling for her taste, especially when her only child was on the receiving end of it. But still, all in all, Holly was starting to enjoy Friday nights.

So when a friend started off a sentence one day with, “I know you hate football, but—” she was surprised to hear herself say, “Oh, football’s not so bad.”

Gina looked at her skeptically over her turkey club sandwich. “Since when is football not so bad?”

Holly shrugged as she poured vinaigrette over her salad. “My son’s on his high school team and he’s sort of getting me into it. What were you going to say?”

“Well.” Gina’s eyes sparkled as she leaned over the table. “You know my fiancé?”

Holly raised her eyebrows. “Pretty well, yes. Considering the fact that I’ve worked with Henry for six years and actually introduced the two of you.”

Gina grinned. “Okay, you get all the credit for my future marital bliss. And now I’m going to return the favor.”

Holly took a bite of salad. “Uh-huh. And you’ll be doing this how?”

“By fixing you up with your future husband, of course.”

Holly sighed. “Gina, I love you, but we’ve been through this before. Do you remember the last time you fixed me up with my future husband?”

Gina waved it away. “Mark looked good on paper, didn’t he? Nice guy, stable job, easy on the eyes. I thought he was perfect for you. And you liked him in the beginning.”

“Sure I did. And he liked me, too—until I cancelled a date one night when Will was sick. That’s when he told me that Will would always come first in my life and I’d probably never get married. He also mentioned something about dying alone.”

“Okay, so he turned out to be a jerk. He couldn’t handle the fact that you’re a single mom. But there are plenty of guys out there who can, and Will’s older now.”

Holly shook her head. “He still comes first. Mark was right about that. The truth is, I’m not looking for anything serious. That doesn’t seem to work out for me. I just want to have a little fun. I haven’t been out with anyone since Mark, and that was three years ago.”

Gina looked surprised. “You want to have fun? I don’t think I’ve heard you use that word before.”

Holly wadded up her napkin and threw it at her. “If you think I’m so boring, why are you friends with me?”

Gina grinned. “Because you do my taxes for free every year. Now let’s get back to your love life. If you want fun, we can do fun. We’ll still go with my plan, only you’ll date Rich instead of marrying him. Can I at least do my sales pitch?”

There would be no peace until she did. “All right, go ahead.”

“He’s really cute. Kind of a receding hairline, and he could stand to work out a little more, but definitely kissable. I happened to meet him because Henry’s been his financial adviser for years, and they’ve gotten to be friends. He’s the Bengals’ play-by-play announcer.”

She actually knew who that was, which meant she was spending way too much time watching football with Will. “Rich Brennan?”

Gina looked delighted. “See? You’ve even heard of him. This is a match made in heaven.”

Holly pushed her empty salad bowl away and reached for the dessert menu. “I’m a thirty-four-year-old single mother. He’s a sportscaster on TV. Why would he want to go out with me?”

Gina glared at her. “Maybe because you’re wonderful? Not to mention gorgeous? Henry and I ran into Rich the other day, and when he heard we were engaged he started talking about wanting to settle down, how he’s done with the bar scene and playing the field and all that, and how hard it is to meet a nice woman. I told him my best friend is a beautiful redhead and the nicest person I know, and he asked if he could meet you. So what do you say?”

Here was her chance to walk on the wild side—or at least to go out on a date. Hadn’t she been wanting to get out of her rut? And maybe Rich Brennan would turn out to be someone she could think about at night, alone in her bed when the lights were out.

Someone who wasn’t Alex.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Gina breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m really glad you said that, because I already set it up. The Bengals have a bye week and Rich is free this Saturday. Now we just have to figure out what you’re going to wear, since your own wardrobe is obviously impossible.”

“My wardrobe is not—”

“Yes, it is,” Gina said firmly. “We’ll go shopping after lunch.”

Holly sighed. “Fine. Now, can we talk about something important? Do you want to split the cheesecake or the chocolate truffle thing?”

It was Saturday night, and Alex was having a good time. The bar was hopping, and with the bye week most of his former teammates were there. Some of the Bengals cheerleaders were there, too, and he did a healthy amount of flirting. It was great to be back in Cincinnati for a night, great to hang out with the guys.

He also enjoyed listening to the girls commenting on the other patrons of the bar, including a well-known sportscaster who’d just picked up a karaoke mike to sing “Climb Every Mountain” from The Sound of Music.

“And, omigod, check out his date! He sure rebounded from Cherry in a hurry. Why does Rich always go for redheads? And where did he find this one? She’s really pretty.”

Alex glanced over at the table they were pointing at and nearly fell off his chair.

It was Holly Stanton.

What was she doing, laughing and clapping as Rich Brennan belted out a Julie Andrews song with alcohol-induced abandon?

“There’s someone over there I’ve got to say hello to,” he told the girls.

Alex made his way through the crowd toward Holly’s table. She was sitting with her back to him, giggling at Rich’s performance on the karaoke stage, and Alex wondered how much she’d had to drink. He’d never heard Holly giggle before.

He tapped her on the shoulder and she twisted around to see who it was. Her hair was loose tonight and it hung down her back in a rippling waterfall, framing her face in coppery waves.

“Alex!” she cried, rising to her feet and throwing her arms around him as if he were a long lost friend. For a few dizzying seconds she stayed like that, her slender curves pressed against him and her perfume surrounding him—something delicate, like roses—before she took a step back, swaying slightly.

His heart was pounding from the unexpected contact.

“Alex, Alex, Alex.” She looked up at him solemnly, her lips parted. “I was thinking about you before, but now I can’t remember why.”

A curvy brunette came from the direction of the restroom. “Holly, who is this gorgeous man?”

Holly gestured with a flourish. “Gina, this is Alex. Alex, this is Gina. Gina’s getting married soon,” she said as a dark-haired man at their table tugged Gina down onto his lap. Gina planted a kiss on his forehead.

“That’s Gina’s fiancé,” Holly said helpfully. “His name is Henry.”

“Nice to meet you, Gina and Henry,” Alex said before turning back to Holly. “So, how much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Not nearly enough,” a familiar voice announced, and there was Rich, a guy Alex had known casually for years and had always liked. He slung a heavy arm around Holly’s slender shoulders, and Alex found himself liking him less. “I’ll know she’s had enough when she lets me undo this button, and maybe a couple more. It’s been driving me crazy all night.”

He fiddled with the button in question, and Alex’s jaw tightened. Holly smacked his hand away but she didn’t seem very serious about it.

“It’s nice to see you again, Alex,” Rich said, holding out a hand. His other arm was still around Holly’s shoulders. “What have you been doing with yourself since you left the league?”

“Coaching,” Alex said, taking his hand briefly.

“Join us for a drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Alex answered, taking a chair next to Holly after she sat down.

“So,” he asked casually. “Are you two … dating?”

Rich was taking a long swig of beer, and it was Holly who answered him. “We met for the first time tonight. Gina fixed us up,” she added, which made him think less kindly of Gina.

“It’s about time Holly went out on a date,” Gina said. “She’s been living like a nun.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Alex asked, glancing at the woman in question. “If Holly wants to live like a nun, you shouldn’t try to talk her out of it. There’s nothing wrong with celibacy.”

She was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged her hips, and a black cashmere sweater that was, thankfully, buttoned up to her neck. The curve of her breasts beneath the soft material was incredibly enticing, and if she’d been any other woman he would have sympathized with Rich’s urge to undo a few of those buttons. But this wasn’t just any woman, it was Holly. And he’d rather see her in full-body armor than with Rich drooling all over her.

Rich laughed loudly. “I know you’re not speaking from personal experience. You’re a great guy, Alex, but you’re not exactly a shining example of the celibate lifestyle. I bet if we survey the crowd here tonight, we’ll find at least twenty women who’ve been through Alex McKenna’s revolving door.” He rose clumsily to his feet. “Now if you folks will pardon me, I’ve got to visit the little boy’s room.”

It was hard to believe he’d ever liked Rich Brennan.

Holly had picked up an empty beer bottle and was fiddling with the label, peeling it away from the glass. “You were like that in high school, too,” she said. “A different girl every week.”

“Were you ever one of those girls?” Gina asked, leaning back against her fiancé.

Holly looked horrified, and Alex winced.

“Of course not,” she said. “We don’t even get along. It’s his fault,” she added. “He’s very annoying.”

“Hey!” Her comment stung more than it should, even though he knew she’d had a few drinks. “I’m sitting right here. And I’m not the annoying one.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, twisting the label around her fingers. “You said I should be a nun. That’s annoying.”

Gina was no longer paying attention to them, distracted by something Henry was whispering in her ear.

“Okay, I take it back,” Alex said, moving his chair closer to hers. “I don’t think you should be a nun. So … how’s the date with Rich going?”

Holly was tearing the label into pieces now, working methodically, a little crease between her brows. “All right, I guess,” she said.

“Just all right?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t … feel the way I thought I’d feel. The way I want to feel.”

His heart skipped a beat, which probably made him a very bad person. He shouldn’t be happy that Holly’s date was a dud. “How do you want to feel?”

The label was in tiny silver pieces on the table. Holly propped her chin on her hand as she thought about the question. “I don’t know. I guess I was hoping for … magic.”

Magic, he thought, remembering how his body had reacted when Holly had hugged him. “What would that feel like?”

She glanced at him. “Why are we talking like this? Like we’re friends or something? We don’t even like each other.”

“Alcohol,” he explained. “It’s the great equalizer.”

She considered that. “I’ve had three shots of tequila and two beers. When I stand up, the room kind of swoops.” She blinked. “You know, it’s possible that I’m drunk.”

He held back a smile. “So what would magic feel like?”

She looked down at the table. “Well … goose bumps. Shivers. Your heart beating faster, your knees feeling weak. But I think I’m expecting too much.”

She looked so vulnerable as she said that, her expression a little embarrassed, her cheeks turning pink. He wanted to tilt her chin up so she was looking right at him, he wanted to lean in close and—

I could make your knees feel weak, he thought.

On the other hand, maybe not. Holly had never given the slightest indication that she reacted to him the way he did to her. Besides which, they bugged the hell out of each other, which would seem to indicate a certain level of incompatibility. And on top of that Holly was a forever kind of woman, while he was a few-months-at-most kind of guy—as Rich had so considerately pointed out.

Still—“You ought to hold out for magic,” he said gruffly. “You deserve magic. There’s someone out there who’ll make you feel that way.”

She kept her eyes down, arranging the torn pieces of label in a neat pile with a fingertip. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I shouldn’t shoot for the moon. I have Will, and I have friends, and I’ve got a job I love. That’s pretty good, right? Maybe I’m not meant to have more.”

Something about that quiet statement stabbed him through the heart. He started to tell her how wrong she was, but then he noticed Rich come out of the bathroom and lurch erratically toward the bar.

“Let me take you home,” he said instead. He glanced at Gina and her fiancé, who were engaged in a long, slow kiss. “Your friends seem occupied, and your date is on his way to being unconscious. None of you should be driving tonight.”

“I was going to take a taxi.”

“Let me drive you.”

Holly shook her head. “I know I haven’t felt any magic yet, but Rich is sort of cute … and nice … and he seems interested. Maybe if I let things go a little further I’ll start to feel something.”

The idea of things going “a little further” between Holly and Rich made his whole body tense up. Rich rejoined them at that moment, handing a fresh beer to Alex and leaning down to nuzzle the back of Holly’s neck. Alex gripped the bottle so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t break.

“Did I mention how good you look?” Rich asked, reaching over her shoulder for Holly’s top button again. Holly smacked his hand away again, but with less force than last time.

This was none of his business. In all the time he’d known her Holly had never asked for his help, and had never accepted it when it was offered. She’d never done anything but push him away. But he couldn’t just leave her here like this, too drunk to make good decisions, her friends too drunk to realize it, and Rich too drunk to keep his damn hands to himself.

“You need to stop doing that,” he said to Rich.

Even through the haze of alcohol, Rich heard the steel in his voice. He stared at Alex. Then he looked at Holly. “What’s the story here?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Does Alex have some kind of claim on you?”

“A claim? On me? Of course not.”

Rich turned to look at him again, and his expression was belligerent. “Back off,” he said.

Alex got to his feet. “I’m taking you home,” he told Holly.

“I’m taking her home,” Rich insisted, putting a proprietary hand on her arm.

“Not in a million years,” Alex said. He put a hand on the other man’s chest and gave a quick, hard push that sent him stumbling backward several feet.

“Hey!” Holly said, jumping up. “I can take care of myself. And you’re not the boss of me, Alex McKenna.”

“For tonight, I am.”

He put his hands on her waist and lifted her, amazed at how light she was. Then he threw her over his shoulder and strode out of the bar, ignoring the startled protests from her friends, from Rich and from Holly herself.

She was pounding on his back with her fists, but that wasn’t as distracting as having so much of her pressed up against him for the second time that night. It was a relief when he got the passenger door open and could deposit her in the front seat, snapping her safety belt into place.

He was betting her advanced state of intoxication would prevent her from getting out of the car before he could get in, and he was right. She was still fumbling to undo the belt when he slid in behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

After a couple of minutes, she gave up.

“I’m going to be really, really mad at you once I’m sober again.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that. Just … tossed me over your shoulder.” She waved a hand in the air to emphasize her point and accidentally smacked him on the side of the head. He winced.

“And all because I was trying to have fun for once in my life,” she grumbled, folding her arms and slouching down in her seat. “I know you think I’m uptight. You should be glad to see me loosen up.”

“I don’t mind you loosening up. I just mind you letting some drunken idiot unbutton your sweater in public.”

“He’s not an idiot. And I can take my clothes off if I want to. It’s a free country.”

“Fine,” he snapped as he pulled onto the highway. “The next time I see you three sheets to the wind in the middle of a sports bar, you’re on your own. Take off anything you want.”

“All right, I will,” she said. And before Alex had time to stop her, she grasped the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head.

It was sheer luck that kept him from smashing into the truck ahead of them. He had one glimpse of creamy skin and apricot lace before he wrenched his eyes forward and got control of the car.

“Put your sweater back on.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Holly—”

“No.”

He took a deep breath and let it out again. “Please put your sweater back on,” he said more quietly. “Please?”

There was a moment of silence, during which Alex exerted every bit of his willpower to keep his eyes on the road. He was intensely aware of the woman sitting beside him, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her soft, bare skin just inches away. She smelled like tequila and roses, a strangely erotic combination.

“Okay,” she said finally, tugging the soft black sweater back over her head. Alex wasn’t sure if his relief or his disappointment was more intense.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

“That’s all right,” Holly said, and her voice sounded so resigned that he glanced over at her in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just … you flirt with every woman you see, but when I took off my top you wouldn’t even look at me. Do you think I’m repulsive or something?”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you crazy? I—” He stopped himself before he could go too far. “I mean, it’s not like that with us. We don’t like each other, remember? You only took off your sweater because you’re drunk. I’d never take advantage of you like that.”

He wasn’t sure she’d even heard him.

“I’ve never been any good at flirting. Or dating, for that matter.” She rolled down her window and put a hand out to catch the night air. “I haven’t had sex in three years. Three years, Alex. I think I’ve forgotten how.”

What was she doing to him? If she was going to talk about sex he was going to have a hell of a time showing the restraint he’d just talked about.

And once she woke up tomorrow morning and remembered this conversation, she’d never talk to him again. He knew Holly—she wouldn’t forgive him for seeing her guard down like this.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said warily, wondering what was coming now.

“Why did you leave the NFL?”

He glanced at her in surprise, and saw her looking at him curiously. Well, at least they weren’t talking about sex.

He turned his eyes back to the road and tried to adjust to the change in topic.

“Why did I leave the NFL,” he muttered. He glanced at her again. “I don’t usually talk about that, but if you’re sure you want to know—”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then.” He hesitated, remembering that time in his life. “Back when I was a pro athlete I got involved in a mentoring program with teenagers. I was working with this one boy, a really nice kid named Charles. He was a good student and a great football player. I worked with him for two years, right up until he got accepted to Michigan State. The day after he got the letter, he took twenty of his mom’s antidepressant pills with a bottle of vodka and killed himself.”

Holly gasped. “Alex, how awful. But … what did that have to do with you leaving the NFL?”

“After Charles died, his parents and I found out that he’d been using steroids. I didn’t have a clue. He never talked to me about it, never said a word. He must have thought I was too much of a straight arrow to ask about something like that. And he was right—I never got into that crap. One of the many reasons is that it can affect your emotional balance, make you suicidal … especially if you’re a teenager.”

He took a breath. “I kicked myself for not seeing the signs. The acne, the mood swings, the way he bulked up so fast. But the fact is, I’d gotten used to seeing the signs. They were around me every day in the locker room. And even though I never did it myself, I turned a blind eye to it. It was just so much a part of the culture … as bad as it sounds, I started to take it for granted. After Charles died, I decided I didn’t want a job where I could take something like that for granted. I decided I wanted to work with kids instead.”

He grinned suddenly. “Or maybe I was just tired of getting beaten into the ground every Sunday. Either way, it was time to leave and I left.”

Holly was looking at him thoughtfully. “I’m glad you left the NFL,” she said after a moment. “I’m glad you came back here to Weston. I’m glad you’re Will’s coach.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well … thanks, Holly.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure.”

“Why were you such a jerk in high school?”

Now he raised both eyebrows. “Hey, who said I was a jerk?” He waited a beat, then shook his head. “Okay, even I don’t buy that one. Yeah, I was a jerk. Most teenage boys are, you know. I hope you don’t think Will is typical.”

“No, I know he’s not typical. But you weren’t, either. I mean … I suppose most teenage boys are obnoxious, but you were …”

“More obnoxious than most? Maybe I was. Well—I hated my family, for one thing. One of the original excuses for teenage rebellion.”

“Why did you hate them?”

“I never knew my real father—he took off before I was born. My mom died when I was eight and that left me with my stepfather. He and Brian never had much use for me, and I had even less for them. I wasn’t related to them by blood, and they’re the kind of people that matters to. I left home as soon as I could.”