Down by Contact - A Seattle Lumberjacks Romance (19 page)

Even worse, his gut clenched with worry
every time he recalled the fear on her face when she’d spotted the
dark sedan. Didn’t she get it? Someone was stalking her. He didn’t
feel good about scaring the shit out of her, but he’d hoped she’d
come clean about her reasons for sleeping in her car. She
didn’t.

While he might buy the story that her
controlling parents—especially her bitch of a mother—might hire
someone, he doubted that would be more than an annoyance to her.
She hadn’t been annoyed, she’d been terrified, like a hunted animal
about to get cornered with no way out.

He hated feeling responsible for her
well-being, yet for some unfathomable reason, he did. If something
happened to her outside his home, he’d never forgive himself. On
the other hand, he understood pride all too well. To invite her to
stay in his spare bedroom compromised that pride. Despite all she’d
done to him, he couldn’t do that to her.

He’d come up with another solution.

Yeah, right buddy. Like screwing up her
future plans by refusing to cooperate on this stupid-assed gala? He
blew out a breath and shoved his hair out of his eyes.

Kelsie nudged him. Her disapproving glare
indicated he’d committed another social blunder. “What now?”

“Don’t comb your hair at the table.”

“I’m not.”

“You are and with your fingers. That’s even
worse.” She hissed at him. “Go wash your hands.”

“My hair is clean. I just took a shower.
What’s the big deal?”

She gave him one of those
how can you be
so stupid
glares, the kind he’d seen his entire life. Zach rose
from the table and stalked to the bathroom. Maybe he didn’t give a
shit if black-sedan guy whisked this annoying woman off to parts
unknown. Hell, at least she’d be out of his hair.
Literally.

Only he did care. He just didn’t want
to.

A few hours later with his credit card
drained by tons of hungry football players, he left the restaurant
and drove home alone. Kelsie had bummed a ride with Derek and
Rachel, which really frosted his nuts. He tried not to take it
personally because he suspected the reason had to do with her
entire life’s possessions being stacked in the backseat of her
car.

The problem was his dick really wanted to
take her home and to end this bullshit denial between them. Zach
never believed in beating around the bush. If you wanted something
you went after it. He wanted Kelsie, but did he dare go after
her?

Every part of his body down to his big toe
answered with a resounding yes while his heart squeaked out a
pansy-assed no. The rest of him wasn’t listening as he pulled up to
the garage, parked his truck, and mounted his front steps. Grabbing
a brew from the fridge and a blanket, he returned to the porch.
Turning off the outside lights, he settled onto the porch swing and
waited.

At some point during the evening, he dozed
off. He woke up a few hours later, stiff and cold. Kelsie never
showed up.

CHAPTER 13

Kelsie folded her hands in front of her and
waited for Zach. Today’s lesson would be on making small talk, as
in intelligent, polite conversation. She opened Mabel Fay’s book
and re-read the first paragraph, taking some comfort from the
familiar words:

Refined and proper manners will be negated
if one hasn’t mastered the gift of polite conversation. Many a time
a slip in manners, such as a gentleman who slurps his soup or
chooses an improper wine to pair with a meal, can be overlooked if
said gentleman masks minor improprieties with witty, charming
conversation.

So not Zach.

Kelsie giggled at the thought. She glanced
at her watch. The man was late.

A few seconds later, he stormed into the
room and glanced around. When he saw her, relief washed across the
angular masculinity of his face, though his irritation still shone
through, along with something almost resembling fear.

“Where the hell have you been?” He stared
down at her like a man feasting his eyes on his last meal.

Oh, boy.

“Right here waiting for you.” She kept her
voice calm, even though his appearance caused a major earthquake
inside her.

“I mean for the last week and a half.”

“HughJack cancelled last Tuesday’s lesson
citing a special team meeting.” He’d noticed? She tamped down her
pleasure.

“I know that, but you didn’t
reschedule.”

She blinked at him. He wanted her to
reschedule? “I’m not following you.”

He opened his mouth then shut it, as if he’d
already said too much. He dropped into the chair and clasped his
hands on the table in front of him.

“Zach? What’s going on?” He looked so
distraught, she reached for his hands, but he jerked them away.

“Nothing.”

Like nothing, hell. “You barged in here like
a man in a panic.”

“Just hadn’t seen you around. I was
concerned. You know, what with the trench-coat guy and all that.”
He met her gaze, and she saw the worry reflected there. A warm,
fuzzy feeling like when Scranton licked her cheek ran through her.
Only this man licking her body would be cataclysmic on the
affection scale.

“As you can see, I’m fine.” Sometimes she
wondered if anyone would report her missing if she disappeared.
Maybe Zach would.

“Where have you been?” He leveled her with a
direct gaze.

She’d asked Rachel and Derek not to mention
where she was to Zach, and she had to admit she was a little
surprised they hadn’t. It had been such a relief to have a place to
stay and she didn’t want Zach to find out she was dependant on them
for her housing.

“It’s not really any of your affair, but
when Rachel and Derek gave me a ride after the last home game,
Rachel got a call from her barn help. The woman had a family
illness and needed to be away for a week. I volunteered to fill in.
I’ve been staying in their caretaker’s cottage so I wouldn’t have
to drive back and forth twice a day.” Not that she had a home to
drive back and forth to. She’d gone straight to the cottage that
night and stayed there ever since. The caretaker would return in a
few days so she’d be back to her car after that.

“Oh.” He looked down, but not before she
caught the deep red coloring his face. Finally, he glanced upward.
“You know how to care for horses?”

“Seriously? I rode hunters as a teenager.
Mother insisted on it. All well-bred girls took riding lessons, so
she said.” Kelsie’s stomach knotted at the memory. She’d loved
riding those gentle beasts, but her mother demanded her daughter
take home only blue ribbons at horse shows until Kelsie hated
everything to do with horses. She’d purposely started losing at
horse shows just so she could quit riding.

“Zach, let’s get down to business. Did you
read your homework?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “This is
total bullshit. The team’s lost as many as they’ve won, and you’re
asking me if I’ve read Mary Kay’s worthless advice.”

“Mable Fay, and it’s not worthless.” Kelsie
bristled, defending the woman she’d considered her guiding light
over the years.

“Whatever.” He waved her off. “Let’s get
this over with.”

“You’re not taking this seriously. Veronica
and Coach Jackson expect your full cooperation.” Kelsie tried for
the stern teacher voice, but it came out as bitchy whine. “Do you
have your copy with you?” She’d found him a dog-eared copy at a
used bookstore.

He looked down at his hands and shook his
head.

“Do you know where your copy is?”

He lifted one shoulder, still not meeting
her gaze.

Busted.

She pushed the book across the table to him.
“Please read this over. I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Zach hunched over the book but not before
casting an irritated glance in her direction.

This man was the most exasperating,
frustrating man she’d ever known. When he bent his dark, shaggy
head, she itched to comb his hair into some semblance of order. She
swallowed, imagined taming that unruly mop. She’d run her fingers
through it and feel its texture as she added product for control,
brush it out of his eyes so she could take in every feature of his
ruggedly handsome face. Tracing those uncompromising lips with her
index finger, she’d tease them into relaxing. And if they didn’t,
she’d be forced to use her lips. His lips would tighten, but she’d
persevere until he softened them, opened for her tongue. Next
thing, she’d be draped over his arm as he feasted on her mouth.

The book slammed shut, and Kelsie jumped a
foot out of her chair. Flustered, she fumbled for her notes, and
they slid off the table. Zach knelt down at the same time she did
to pick them up. Her forehead bumped his forehead. She raised her
gaze and so did he. A few inches separated her mouth from his, that
very mouth she’d been fantasizing about a few seconds ago. If she
just leaned forward a little, pretended to lose her balance and
conveniently forgot that touching and kissing was so not a good
idea she could be kissing him.

Zach beat her to it.

His mouth touched hers and set off a series
of explosive chain reactions in the rest of her body. He tasted her
like a wine expert with a rare bottle of chardonnay. She applied
pressure to his lips, parting her own. He accepted the invitation
with his tongue and deepened the kiss. Burying his fingers in her
hair, he pulled her closer.

“So, how are the lessons going?” Tyler
Harris’s taunting voice hit her like a wrong-way driver on I-5. She
shot to her feet and so did Zach, knowing both their faces were
redder than a tourist who’d fallen asleep in the hot sun on a
beach.

“Go to hell,” Zach growled.

“If I do, I’m taking you with me.”
Chuckling, Tyler winked at Kelsie and left the room.

Stricken, Kelsie looked at Zach. “What do
you think he’ll do?”

“I’ll take care of him.” The grim resolve on
Zach’s face didn’t bode well for Tyler’s health or throwing
arm.

She wrapped her fingers around Zach’s biceps
to keep him from going after the quarterback. “That’s what I’m
afraid of.” Kelsie could still hear Tyler’s laughter as it faded in
the distance.

She didn’t have a good feeling about this.
Not at all.

* * * * *

Three and four.

They were fucking three and four. Three
sorry-assed wins, four fucking losses.

A record like that didn’t get a guy into the
playoffs, let alone the Super Bowl. Frustration welled up inside
Zach to the point of exploding. It didn’t help that worry and guilt
over Kelsie distracted him to the point where he couldn’t
concentrate. To add insult to insult, his old team—the perpetual
league doormats that he’d given the best twelve years of his
career—had just whipped the Jacks’ asses on Thursday Night
Football. After years of mediocrity, the Detroit Devils were six
and one and leading their division. The team’s owner hinted that
cutting Zach in the off-season might be one of the reasons for
their success.

What if it was? Zach slumped onto the bench
in front of his locker and toweled off his wet hair. He felt sick
to his stomach. Nothing had gone right tonight. Nothing. And not
just for Zach.

Harris’s QB rating was at its all-time
worst. His receivers dropped balls left and right. Zach’s defense
left holes big enough for an elephant to lumber through at slow
speed. Zach himself didn’t play a stellar game and he laid the loss
right where it belonged, at his own big feet.

Harris stopped in front of his locker, hands
on hips, murder in his laser-blue eyes. Zach glanced up in the
middle of lacing his shoes.

“Get your fucking mind off your beauty queen
and on the field.”

Obviously, Harris was looking for a fight,
and Zach didn’t mind giving it to him. He was sick and tired of the
quarterback’s criticism from the sidelines, as if the jerk had ever
played a down of defense in his pussy-assed life. Zach shot to his
feet, unmindful of Harris’s extra inch of height. He had forty
pounds of muscle over the QB.

“Are you accusing me of putting a woman over
football?”

“Not accusing. Stating a fact.” Harris
stepped forward into Zach’s space. Their faces only inches apart.
Fury radiated off Zach in waves. He itched to plant his fist in
Harris’s smug face. The asshole had been begging for it for
months.

All noise in the room ceased, even the
endless rap music from Dante Reed’s corner of the locker room
stopped. The players shuffled their feet. Some kept their backs to
their battling team captains, others openly gaped like bystanders
at the scene of a bloody crime.

“Well, how’s this for a fact? You aren’t
playing any better. Maybe you should practice what you preach.” Out
of the corner of Zach’s eye, he noticed Derek and the backup
quarterback, Brett Gunnels, inching toward them. Brett was a quiet
guy and not big enough at five foot ten to be better than a career
backup in the NFL, but the guy had guts. Zach would rather see him
starting than Harris when Harris’s head wasn’t in the game. Yet, if
Harris’s head was elsewhere, where the hell was Zach’s? Down
south?

“Hey, now.” Derek, the team peacemaker,
attempted to step between them, but neither Zach nor Harris
budged.

“Stay out of this,” Tyler snarled. Derek
didn’t retreat but didn’t make another move to interfere. Brett
stood his ground, too, ready to break up a fight, while Zach’s
defensive line moved behind him, like his own personal posse of
defenders.

Shit, any minute they’d have a brawl in the
locker room.

“Kelsie isn’t my problem. You are.” Zach
flexed his fingers, walking a thin line between strangling Harris
and decking him. He had no doubt he could lay the guy out in one or
two punches. “My grandma could play better football than you and
with a lot more desire.”