Читать книгу Under the Autumn Sky - Liz Talley - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

ABRAM HAD WOKEN with a headache that had nothing to do with the 1.5 beers he’d drunk last night, and everything to do with the mildew present in the damp carpet around the air conditioner in the motel room.

The motel hadn’t been the worst he’d stayed in, but it wasn’t a night at the Four Seasons. Not that he frequented the Four Seasons often. Holiday Inns and Courtyard Marriotts were his home away from home when out on the road.

This one had no continental breakfast. He wasn’t a fan of rubber eggs anyhow, so he’d found a Waffle House with a smart-aleck waitress, decent coffee and a small-town crowd, then tried not to think about the woman he’d hurt the night before.

He hadn’t been wrong in redirecting Louise’s intent on shedding her virginity, but it still felt like a bad deal. He’d dinged her pride and there was no telling the ramifications of his nonaction.

But he couldn’t dwell on it. Louise would be a faded memory in little over a week, even if her innocence and beauty had struck a chord in him. She’d fall in love someday and find the right guy to hold her and love her.

Something jerked in his gut at the thought of her in another man’s arms, but he ignored it. It was like missing the numbers on the lottery by two numbers. Regret. But what could a guy do?

Move on.

Today he started his recruitment of the top prospect on the athletic department’s tight end list. The Panthers needed Waylon Boyd, and Abram aimed to land the boy—starting with his high school coach.

The diner moved around him, blue-collar sorts with white utility trucks parked outside along with older women and men reading the newspaper. Clinking forks, clattering dishes, and the low hum of conversation. This place suited him fine. Real people. Real jobs.

He caught an older gentleman reading the sports section of the Opelousas paper glancing at him. Finally, on the fourth or fifth glance, Abram nodded.

The man narrowed his eyes. “You by any chance with the ULBR program?”

Abram wore an ULBR windbreaker, but that meant little. Almost everyone in Louisiana had something ULBR in his or her closet. “Yep, I’m with the program.”

The man cracked a smile, stood and offered a hand. “I’m Tom Forcet. Forcet Construction. I’m godfather to one of your prospects—Waylon Boyd.”

Abram stood and took the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Forcet.”

“Tom, please.”

“I’m actually here to meet with Coach Landry about Waylon. Always good to run into a friend of his.”

“Good kid. That’s the most important thing. Raised right. His late father was my college roommate. Wish he could have seen what Waylon’s become. Of course, Lou’s done a fine job with him.”

Abram hadn’t had much time to look over Sam Moreland’s notes on Waylon. He knew the kid’s parents had been killed in a plane crash about nine years ago. Rather than place the kids in foster care, an older sibling had stepped up to care for them. “Character counts. His talent is evident on the field, but we pay close attention to kids with good values who will reflect well on our program.”

“Dang right,” the man said, wiping his mouth with a napkin from an adjoining table. “Waylon’s the complete package. Does odd jobs around the construction site for me from time to time. Course Lou works for me so makes it easy to keep an eye on the boy. I’ll let you get back to your breakfast. Eggs aren’t good cold. Good to meet you.”

Abram nodded and reciprocated the acknowledgment. Then he sat down to his breakfast, pulling the folder on Waylon Jennings Boyd and spreading it in front of him. Most of the information had been purchased from a reputable recruiting service but also contained comments from the Bonnet Creek coach—height, weight, times in the 40, bench weight, etc. There was a small section noting his personal information—basically address, contact information and name of guardian.

Louise Boyd.

Huh.

Surely, it wasn’t the same person he’d danced with last night? The same woman he’d kissed and held in his arms. And nearly had sex with.

The disturbing feeling sliding into the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the eggs and waffle he’d gulped down. Louise. Not a common name, was it?

He thought hard. She’d said she’d remained a virgin because of circumstances. Or something like that. Raising a younger brother and sister would definitely squash dating. Not to mention working full-time to support a family.

He glanced back at the file. No age given for the guardian.

Tom Forcet had told him Lou worked at the construction company, but he couldn’t imagine the beautiful woman he’d met the night before working something as difficult as construction. And being called Lou. Maybe she did the books or something?

Either way, if Lou Boyd was his honky-tonk Cinderella, he’d unknowingly committed a recruiting violation—and not just the slap on the wrist kind. This was the kind that could blow up into a scandal. Opposing fan bases and the press that catered to their neuroses were hungry for dirty tidbits like a coach messing around with a recruit’s sister, mother or cousin. If someone found out he and Louise Boyd had nearly done the dirty deed on a dock on Lake Chicot, there’d be shit hitting a fan. Really messy.

But maybe he worried for no good reason.

He took a sip of cold coffee. It tasted oddly of ashes. Or maybe it tasted like unemployment.

“Check, please.”

* * *

“LORI, I CANNOT LEAVE work to bring you the essay. If I don’t move this dirt, they can’t frame up for the concrete, and Manuel will be all over my butt. We’ve finally had enough dry days to make progress. Sorry. You’ll have to take a lower letter grade.”

“Lou, please. You don’t understand. Mrs. Rupple will not knock it down one letter grade, but two. Please. Just on your break.” Lori’s voice had dropped to a plaintive low whine. It was one she used often. Too often.

Lou pushed her gloved hand against the gear of the front-end loader, knocking the loose knob back and forth. “You’re a big girl, Lori. You say you’re old enough for a license or working at Forcet, but want me to bring your forgotten—”

“Pleeeease! I barely have an A in her class. I’ll wash dishes for a whole week.”

“No.”

“Lou, I’m begging you. Begging.”

Lou pulled off her heavy gloves and tossed them on the dashboard of the large piece of equipment. “Fine, but you have to wash the dishes and do the laundry.”

“Thank you, Lou. I mean it. You’re the best.”

Lou pressed the button on her cell phone and sighed. “Sure I am.”

So much for sticking to her guns this go-around. It was the seventh time this year Lou had taken her lunch by running home, grabbing something Lori had forgotten, and then speeding back to the school to deliver her sister from the horrible repercussion of leaving behind her practice uniform or the flash drive holding her PowerPoint presentation. Lori was a lovable, absentminded goofball with an angel’s face. And a pretty big heart. What else was Lou to do?

“Manuel,” she called across the worksite.

The project manager jerked his head up. “Yo?”

“Taking my lunch early.”

“Lori again?”

She gave him the same look she’d given him the other six times that year. “I won’t be long. Then I’ll get that dirt moved and in place so you can start the framing after lunch.”

“Go.”

She walked toward the vehicle that had once been her father’s shining joy, a 2003 Tundra pickup. The silver truck now held a dent in the bumper, courtesy of Waylon’s first attempt at parallel parking, and a huge scrape along one side from a hit-and-run when she’d gone to the Opelousas Home Depot. But it ran well thanks to her second cousin Reeves who owned Taylor Auto and insisted on giving the truck a free tune-up every year. Reeves took care of what little he could for her, but Lou did her own oil changes. She had to draw the line somewhere.

After banging her work boots against the front tire and taking off the bandana she wore to keep the baby-fine hair that escaped her braid out of her eyes, she climbed inside the cab. She saw one of the guys frown at her, and resisted the urge to give him a specific finger wave. That guy didn’t like her much anyway. He was old school. Women belonged at home, folding underwear and stirring peas on the stove. Didn’t matter that Lou could handle her heavy equipment like the finest surgeon. Some men were just shortsighted.

Forcet Construction mostly worked the region north of Opelousas, but they built all over Evangeline Parish, even dipping down to Acadia Parish at times. Today they were working the foundation for yet another credit union in Ville Platte, so her hometown of Bonnet Creek lay twelve miles away. Just far enough so that Lou would have to eat on the way back and also far enough to give her plenty of time to think.

Exactly what she needed. More time to think about what a colossal idiot she was.

No.

Lou refused to let her thoughts travel back to the night before. To the embarrassment of throwing herself at a perfect stranger. What had she been thinking? Or better phrased—what had she been drinking? Because her stupid actions had to be blamed on the strong mojitos. She wasn’t a drinker. Couldn’t handle the woozy, giggly euphoria that had wrapped her up and made her think naughty impossible thoughts. Yes. Blame it on the booze.

Stop it, Lou. Stop thinking about Abram. The moonlight. The fact you can’t get a guy to do the deed.

As she turned into the drive of the house she’d been raised in, she made the same promise she’d made five times earlier that morning. No more thinking about last night.

She grabbed the paper, hidden beneath a yearbook on Lori’s unmade bed, and hightailed it to Bonnet Creek High School, which sat only a mile away. She pulled into the visitor spot and killed the engine.

She didn’t want to run into Coach Landry.

The man was driving her crazy about hiring someone to make a professional highlight reel of Waylon’s best plays. Like she had the money for that.

Waylon was an incredibly talented athlete, and if college coaches couldn’t see that on the amateur reel she’d pieced together with her own two hands for Coach Landry, then they were stupid. She wasn’t hiring a professional service to film him next year. It was an enormous waste of money.

But David Landry was a force to be reckoned with, and with a four-star, blue-chip recruit on his team, he’d taken too personal of an interest.

“Hey, Lou. Lori forgot something again, didn’t she?” Helen Barham ran Bonnet Creek High School from the sleek modern desk of the front office. Helen had once been in the garden club with Lou’s mother and she was exceedingly competent, if unyielding. The woman had never married nor had children, so she tsked every time Lou brought in her sister’s forgotten homework. She was a little hypocritical and gossipy, but many in the small town were. “You know she’s—”

“—never going to learn?” Lou finished for her with a wry smile. “I know. I suck at parenting.”

Helen wagged a finger. “I’ve seen worse, Lou-Lou.”

“I think she’s in Mr. Smith’s English class right now,” Lou said, darting a glance out the door of the office and pretending she didn’t hear her father’s old nickname for her trickle so casually out of Helen’s mouth. Hearing it made her sad. “Coach Landry’s not around, is he?”

The man was notorious for prowling the school hallways, and Lou really didn’t want to deal with him today. Really didn’t.

“He has some college coach in with him.” Helen pointed to her in-basket. “Just leave Lori’s assignment with me and I’ll page her to the office.”

Lou handed the paper off and slipped back out the door. She waved at Mr. Edwards, the custodian whose son played on the football team with Waylon, and nodded at a couple of students who hurried by clutching papers in hand.

She’d just pushed the front door of the school open when she caught sight of the stranger she was never supposed to see again down the hall to her left.

What the hell?

The door came back and nearly nailed her in the nose. She stepped back and watched Abram shake Coach Landry’s hand. He wore khaki pants and a purple windbreaker. She was nearly certain ULBR Athletics was appliquéd on the breast even though she was too far away to read the actual letters.

He was a coach.

For ULBR.

His reason for being in Bonnet Creek was her brother.

Hot shame coursed through her body, followed quickly by the desire to flatten the man’s nose. He knew who she was—that’s why he’d stopped last night. He led her down the merry primrose path, using his charm, his extraordinary good looks to put her at disadvantage, possibly even as leverage, to land her brother, but reining himself in before committing the ultimate in douche-baggery.

What a slimy bastard.

Her boots turned toward the coaches before she could think better of it.

“Hey,” she called out, her voice echoing in the hallway.

Both men turned—David with a wide crocodile smile; Abram Whatever His Last Name Was with an “oh shit” lift of his eyebrows.

“Lou, glad you’re here. This is—”

She spun toward Abram. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Louise.”

“Lou, now let’s watch the language here,” Coach Landry said, waving his hand as if he were stroking the back of a horse. “This here’s an informal visit—”

She blocked Coach Landry’s voice out. Rage choked her. “You—you—ought to be ashamed of yourself. You knew who I was.”

“Not until this morning when I ran into Mr. Forcet and then looked at Waylon’s file. I inherited this recruiting area from Coach Moreland several weeks ago when he left for the offensive coordinating job with Ohio State. I had no clue who you were.”

“Bullsh—” She swallowed the curse even though she wanted to nail him to the brick wall with a volley of creative language. She worked at a construction company. She knew combinations a sailor didn’t. “I’ve heard about how you recruiting guys work. Crawling all over the place, popping up in grocery stores or churches looking to sway recruits or their families. It’s despicable. And to try to use me? I can’t—”

“Use you? You watch too much TV or something?” Abram interrupted, his green eyes turning a cold emerald. “This isn’t a conspiracy. Get real.”

Coach Landry ping-ponged his head between the two of them, before broadening his gaze to the area around them. “Maybe we better hold this conversation in my office. For, you know, privacy.”

“Sis?” She heard Waylon’s voice then and noticed several other students in the hall. Classes were about to change.

She spun toward her brother who was flanked by his girlfriend, Morgan, and his friend Mason. He looked like Goliath next to two Davids. “Go to class, Way. This doesn’t involve you.”

“Coach?”

Lou pointed a finger at her brother. “You do what I say, Waylon Boyd.”

“Chill, Lou. You’re acting crazy, making me look like a punk in front of the school.” Both his friends looked off, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

Abram’s voice was low, but made of steel. “This is your sister, and she doesn’t deserve disrespect.”

Waylon’s eyes clouded and he looked at Lou. Then back at Abram, before allowing his eyes to dip down to the logo on the shirt. She saw the dawning in his eyes. “Sorry, Lou. Sir.”

Abram nodded. She did nothing. Her brother shifted on his size-13 feet. “What’s going on?”

Coach Landry stepped in front of her and Abram. “Your sister’s right, Way. Go on to class. I’ll talk to you this afternoon after conditioning.”

“Let’s let the kids move on. Coach Dufrene? Lou?” Landry stepped back and motioned towards his office.

Lou didn’t want to have this discussion right now, but she also didn’t want to have it out in the hall.

The bell rang, making the decision for her. She walked into Landry’s office. Abram followed.

Coach Landry closed the door. “What in the Sam Hill is going on?”

For a moment she and Abram stared at one another. She didn’t know how to feel. Never thought she’d see him again. Never thought he could have been using her to get close to her brother. He caved first and turned his gaze on Coach Landry.

“It’s not complicated. Last night I stopped at a local bar, mostly to use the john, but then I grabbed a beer. Ended up running into Waylon’s sister, but I had no idea Louise was even related to him. We danced and had a beer together. Nothing more.”

She looked at the stapler sitting on David’s desk, avoiding Abram’s eyes. Refusing to show how much more their meeting could have meant.

“It was an unintentional off-campus contact. I think Miss Boyd thinks it was intentional, but that’s as far from the truth as it gets. I didn’t even know his guardian’s name until this morning when I talked to her employer at the Waffle House.”

David sank into his worn desk chair. “Ah, hell.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t like to feel manipulated.”

“How in the hell is this manipulation, Louise? What? You think I found out your schedule and stalked you? That’s really not how recruiting works regardless of what you may have heard.” Abram’s voice held anger. “This is my career, and I wouldn’t risk that for a random stranger. You think that’s the way we operate at ULBR?”

She gave him a blank stare. She didn’t know what to believe but it all seemed too much of a fluke to sit right with her. The man she’d tried to give her virginity to the night before was the coach sent to recruit her brother. It seemed too pat. She knew the lengths schools went to in going after prospects. She read the papers. Watched ESPN. Those bastards manipulated everyone surrounding the prospect, using Facebook, Twitter, casual meet-ups as ways to sway a kid toward their school. So why not seduction? “I’m not sure what your intent was, but I’m going to report this incident to the NCAA.”

Coach Landry held up a hand. “Now wait a minute, Lou. Take a few moments to calm down before you decide anything. This is very important. Division I schools are under a lot of scrutiny these days, and we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize Waylon. We also don’t want to falsely accuse Coach Dufrene of misconduct.”

The anger rampaging inside her abated a bit. David was right. This incident could affect Waylon. Not her. No need to smudge anything. Yet. “Fine. I don’t have time for this today anyhow. I have a job to get back to, and I’m already late.”

Abram stared at her. “Louise, I didn’t know you were Waylon’s guardian. If you think about it, you’ll see I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Don’t tell me what to think.”

Abram shrugged his big, delicious shoulders, and for a moment hot regret flooded her, a sort of longing for what might have been if it had been the right place and the right time.

Waylon’s high school coach spread his hands. “We need to keep Waylon out in front of this. The incidental contact can be reported. It’s not something that needs to be swept under the rug. Hell, it’s a small state. I run into people unexpectedly all the time, so these things happen.”

“It’s policy at ULBR not to sweep anything under the rug, Coach,” Abram said, propping his hands on his hips. With that simple action, Lou felt the balance shift in the room. “As soon as I leave, I’ll report the incident to Coach Holt and the compliance department. I don’t think anything further will be required, Miss Boyd. If compliance or the NCAA get in touch with you, tell the truth.”

But not the whole truth, she thought. No way would she reveal how well they got to know each other. She didn’t think Abram would be willing to do so, either. They met, they danced once and they shared a drink. Period. End of story.

“Fine,” she said, turning the doorknob. “I’ve got to go. That dirt won’t move itself.”

“Later, Lou,” David said.

“Louise?”

She hesitated, the door only slightly ajar.

“Had I known, I would never have continued the contact. I’ll likely be the coach recruiting Waylon, and I hope you won’t hold this incident against me. I truly have the best interests of your brother and the reputation of my institution in the forefront here. Don’t doubt that.”

She nodded and walked out.

What else could she do?

Both she and the too-delicious-to-have-even-contemplated-in-the-first-place coach had screwed up—and the innocent might end up suffering because she wanted to play Cinderella.

Something ached in her chest, a sort of regret for what would not be. Not that she’d entertained ideas about the man who’d made her feel enchanting as they danced beneath the moonlight. She’d known he was passing through, but the regret was for having the moment in the first place.

Did she think anything could have been different?

She was who she was, and she’d figured out many years ago her situation wouldn’t change until Waylon and Lori claimed lives of their own. Since their parents had died, she’d tried to keep Waylon and Lori’s interests above hers. Not because she was a crazed martyr, but because they were all she had left. All she had to ensure something good would result from her temporarily giving up her dreams. She needed them to be safe and happy. Needed them to succeed. Because if they could get out of Bonnet Creek and reach their goals, then so could she.

Maybe it was selfish.

But she needed Waylon to go to college, to get a full ride. She needed Lori to do well on her SAT, to get her own free ride. She needed to see her sacrifice pay off. Really needed to know all those nights she baked cookies for snack day, turned down dates to attend school plays and called out spelling words had been worthwhile.

Okay, yeah. It was definitely selfish.

But it didn’t change the fact her future lay in Lori and Waylon succeeding.

And not in pursuing crazy romantic fantasies like a twelve-year-old, starstruck girl.