Last Play: Book 1 The Last Play Series (5 page)

He panicked and stood, thinking of his training—like forever ago—on CPR, first aid, and the Heimlich. He jumped up and moved to her.

Coughing and coughing, her eyes were watering fiercely.

Tugging her out of the booth, he put his arms around her, hoping the ice wouldn’t cut her throat or he wouldn’t make her throw up. The problem with doing things like this was that he was strong. Not to mention adrenaline hyped at the moment. He latched his arms around her and squeezed.

She coughed, sputtered, and then put her hands up. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Every part of him was keyed up. He released her and spun her around to see for himself.

The moment went slow and sticky and exactly what he remembered the first time he’d kissed his first girlfriend in the tenth grade after prom. His heart pounded at an unreasonable level, and without warning he was lost in her eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily. It was totally silly for him to think about the fact she was much taller than his first kiss Becky Mueller had been in the tenth grade. She was shorter than his ex-wife by two or three inches. He focused on her slightly puffy lips. Then he noticed the blood on her lip.

Immediately, he reached for her lip and touched it with his thumb. “You’re bleeding?”

She tried to back up, but only stumbled back into the booth.

He grabbed her shoulders. “Take a breath, it’s okay.”

After gulping in a breath, she steadied herself. “Sorry,” she said, touching her lip, “I guess the whole face touching thing does feel ‘weird.’”

Instantly, he dropped her shoulders, still fighting the crazy urge to kiss her. He took a step back and shook his head, covering his embarrassment with a grin. “Sorry, that was … are you okay?” He slid back into the booth.

She sat and then laughed. “I’m sorry. Gosh, how embarrassing.”

He looked around. “I don’t think anybody saw.”

“No, I mean for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you touched my face.” A wicked glint flashed into her eyes.

Roman realized she was teasing him. He grinned and leaned back into the booth. “Well, is it like that for you all the time?”

Without missing a beat, she dabbed a napkin to her lip. “Only when the fans get out of control.”

Before either of them had a chance to say another word, Lee Ann reappeared. She was carrying two huge sandwiches, which Roman noticed were on some kind of homemade rye bread. The fries were piled so high that a couple fell off the plate as she put them down. “Whew.” Lee Ann grinned at him and then winked. “Okay, Marv’s famous chicken salad.” She patted Katie softly on the shoulder. “You two enjoy. I’ll get you some more water.”

“Thank you.” Katie patted her hand.

“Thanks,” Roman said. He focused on the plate and decided Marv had talent. It smelled heavenly.

At first they both just ate and Roman had no idea what to say, but then Katie filled the silence by talking about her seven year old son, Josh, and his science project with twenty frogs living together in an aquarium. After they finished eating, they took the supplies back to the inn, and Katie good-naturedly bossed him around, telling him to take various supplies to different parts of the cabin. Some even went out to what she referred to as the ‘barn,’ which ended up being a huge shop behind the cabin.

Before he knew it, they were both pulling up the carpet on the stairs and hauling the pad and carpet to the barn. Katie showed him the process of getting the old furnace working. The furnace, along with the fireplace provided plenty of warmth. He took the cue that Katie was more focused on her work than doing anything else, so he tried to do the same—focus on the work, not look at Katie as much as he wanted to. Beneath the Carhartt suit she wore yoga pants and a worn Philadelphia Thunderbirds t-shirt. Of course he wasn’t petty enough to make a crack about how awful that team was, but he definitely thought the shirt was a good deterrent from looking at her.

Finally, she asked, “So are you selling the place or what?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “I’m not sure.” Which was kind of true as of about two seconds ago.

She stood up and tugged back a lock of hair that had gotten loose from the ponytail she’d assembled before they started work in earnest. “You should reconsider because the Alaskan Inn means something here.”

“What?” He tugged off the leather work gloves she’d insisted they buy for him earlier and picked up a bottle of water.

The way Katie Winters rolled her eyes and gave him a slight nostril flare made him want to laugh.

How rare it was to find a woman that treated him like … a man. Just a man. Not a football player, not someone to be manipulated or worked over for some ad they wanted to run. He snorted.

She shook her head back and forth. “Your uncle made this place into a legacy. He made it something that families came back to every year. Did you know I’ve been getting calls from families that came to this place when they were kids? Now they have grandkids and want to bring them here.”

Roman snorted again. “Seriously? This place is a dump.” Before he’d even let the words come all the way out, he wanted to take them back.

Her lips pursed together and she glared at him, shaking her head. If she were a cartoon, smoke would be coming out her ears. “Do you even realize what it means to have a home?” she spat out. “Some place that means something.”

He didn’t respond. She looked like she was just getting started.

“Your uncle gave you this place because he loved it, and he obviously loved you. Now, you can either disregard something that’s old because you think there’s no life left in it, or you can work and mold it and give it a new life. That’s your choice.” She pointed at him then moved down the stairs. “But if I were you, I would hold on and thank God everyday that you have something to hold on to.”

He watched her walk away and felt the adrenaline spiking through him. That woman made him want to rip something. So he continued to rip out carpet. Hearing her footsteps fading away, he muttered to himself, “There’s nothing worth holding onto that doesn’t hurt you.”

Two hours later, the carpet was out, and they were starting to fix the subfloor.

Katie jerked to a standing position. “Oh my gosh! I have to go get Josh!” She dropped her hammer on the stairs and dashed for her winter gear.

Panic surged inside of him. Roman didn’t know what to do with the silly lost puppy feeling that suddenly washed through him. He’d been with her all day, and as she dashed off, he suddenly came back to the present. The present where she was married to someone else with a kid. He stumbled down the stairs in his haste to catch her before she left. “When will you be back?”

Shoving on the pink pom, pom cap, she turned to face him and gave him a wink. “Don’t look so desperate, quarterback, you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Tomorrow. Same time, same place.”

T
he rest
of the afternoon and evening was filled with two impressive things. Roman finished getting all the pad and carpet out to the barn and he even pounded in or replaced nails. On two of the steps he had to tear off the tops and he went to the barn and found scraps to replace them. He brought them into the house to show Katie tomorrow morning and then cleaned up the workspace, feeling quite satisfied with himself.

A knock sounded at the kitchen door, and he quickly pushed through to find Mrs. K smiling through the glass windows. He flung the door back, making room for her to come in.

She didn’t budge, staring him up and down. “She worked ya, did she?”

“She’s a task master for sure.” Worry flooded him about the cancer Katie had told him about.

Mrs. K grinned and handed over a warm container that looked to have soup and foil that contained some kind of hot bread. “You go get some rest, young man. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

Immediately, Roman rushed for his wallet on the table. “Here, let me pay you.”

“Oh heavens,” she was already trudging down the steps and headed for the small trail between their houses. “Your grandfather paid me well enough. I just thought there would be no one to look after you, so I thought I’d help out a bit.”

Warmth swelled in Roman and he waved. “Thanks, Mrs. K.”

She stopped and turned back. “Go up to the new room. I went ahead and made it up for you.”

After scarfing down the soup and sumptuous bread, he couldn’t shake the thought of Mrs. K struggling with cancer. Which was odd for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worried about someone else’s health. He shook his head. He would have to find out more about that.

But what he needed right now was a good, long shower. He grabbed his bag as he headed up the stairs to find the guest room she spoke of. In the hallway, the animal heads assaulted him. Geese. Deer. Bear. Oh criminy—pigeon! He realized he remembered it all from his previous visits. He shook his head as he passed a horrific nineteen-seventies looking pigeon room with a rainbow afghan on the wall.

He got to the end of the hall and hesitated. This was his uncle Jim’s room. When Roman first spoke with the attorney, Mr. Burcher had told him he should clear out any personal effects of his uncle’s that he wanted. Roman had responded that he didn’t want any personal effects and the attorney had told him that a cleaning crew would remove it before the sale.

He peeked the door open and was surprised to see an ultra-bright-white down filled comforter on a king bed, with royal blue and white pillows all over. The curtains were open and Roman saw what looked to be, a newly painted and remolded master bathroom. The entire space was completely different from the other rooms. There were modern granite counters in the bathroom and a tiled shower that had sprayers coming from every which way.

A small note was propped up on the king-size bed. “Stay here.”

He dropped his bag on the bed and ventured over to the sliding door that opened onto a gigantic deck. Roman pushed the door back and saw new planks of wood and steam coming up from a hot tub, surrounded by modern-looking deck furniture.

Without thinking much about it, he stripped down to nothing and immediately went to the hot tub. He vaguely remembered how this room should look, but he reckoned his uncle must have started the remodel on the inn a few months before his passing.

He tugged off the top and slid into the hot tub. It felt heavenly to his aching muscles. With the power outage, he would have expected the water to only be warm, but it was actually slightly too hot, just the way he liked it.

Snow still fell fast and furious, but the balcony was shielded by the roof that extended further than the deck. Roman watched the snow falling and first felt all the tension in his legs and back relax before he was finally able to let his shoulders relax. He loved hot tubs.

Cut off. He lay back against the hot tub and soaked in the fact that nobody was trying to call him, interview him, or bug him about how to handle his career. About his physical therapy. About keeping himself in the media enough to sell things, but not enough to get into trouble.

He grinned as he thought of Katie calling him quarterback. He recalled the way her voice had that teasing lilt to it and her eyes would narrow. He thought he might try to call her Kat, thinking he’d be funny—but instantly he knew that name wouldn’t stick. No. He was sure she was Irish with that red hair. Katie was probably short for Katherine. He cocked his head to the side. His grandmother had been a Katherine. His mother’s mom. He blinked. Not thinking about his grandmother, passing shortly after his mother passed. Not thinking about his mother. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Definitely not thinking about Uncle Jim. He sucked in a breath and watched the snow fall. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dying, ya old coot?”

L
oud banging woke
him up the next morning, but it wasn’t the happy sounds of pots rattling inside a kitchen while preparing breakfast. It was the bam, bam, bam of a hammer hitting nails. He tried to ignore it, turned on his side and covered the side of his head with a pillow. It didn’t work.

When the pounding turned to sawing, he gave up completely. He threw back the covers, slid on a pair of jeans, and stumbled out of the room, knowing full well who it was. If he were the boss of this project, however benign this project was, he would refuse to let her start so early. For the love of all that was good and holy, he didn’t often get a vacation like this where he wasn’t at the demands of trainers waking him every dang morning.

He saw her on the steps immediately. Today she wore a red tank top with her red locks braided back, only slight wisps of hairs flowing out. Different yoga pants, not that he should be paying attention to that. He knew she meant serious business because she wore work boots, the kind that protect your toes. Before his anger could get the best of him, he was thrown off balance by the muscles in her arms.

She looked up and gave him a look. The kind of look that reminded him of a runner ready to go into a full sprint at any moment.

Another round of pounding started.

“Wait!” He held his hands up. “Stop that!”

Katie stayed in her pose. She had a female Thor kind of thing going. “Finally got up, lazy bones?”

His hands checked his pockets for his phone. Nothing. He scanned the hall. No clocks. “What time is it?”

With a half smile, Katie pounded another nail. “It’s roughly seven-thirty.” She gestured to the window, which still showed a thick blanket of snow coming down. “I figured you professional athletes would have to get up way early to get all your workouts done. Ya know, all those
important
, busy things you do.”

Okay. Roman knew she’d kind of had a chip on her shoulder about football players since they’d met, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. He could not let her get away with this. “If excelling in a brutal sport so proficiently that you become one of the top players in America—even one of the top in the world—means you're lazy?” He held up his hands in surrender. “Then I guess you’ve caught me.”

She glared at him for a second then went back to the banging. “If you don’t want to hear banging, then go stay at another bed and breakfast because I was given direct instructions to rehab this place before we open for clients again this spring. That’s t-minus sixty days, and every day I’m going to be pushing harder and harder.”

Damn. Even though her attitude pissed him off, Katie was beautiful when she was angry. Flushed, eyes bright, every part of her tensed and engaged.

“Well?” She completely gave her attention to him and demanded an answer.

He didn’t know what to say. So he settled for shaking his head. “I’m not paying you some crazy overtime morning rate, am I?”

At this, she rolled her eyes and went back to hammering. “You’re paying me twenty bucks an hour for thirty hours a week.” She pounded another nail. Her eyes flipped up at him. “Just so you know, your uncle always threw in a ten dollar lunch allowance, and he always counted my lunch as a working hour.”

“I don’t think so.” He didn’t really care. He just wanted to argue.

The next steps she took, flying up the steps, made him stumble back down the hallway to keep himself centered. She was in his face, shaking her finger. “Just so you know, while I’m so sorry to inconvenience the great Roman Young’s football schedule, I am a single mother. I get up at five, run on my treadmill, do two loads of laundry, make lunch, clean up, make sure Josh’s homework is done, get him off to school, and then I come here. I made sure,” she was visibly trembling as she finally caught her breath before continuing, “that your uncle’s bedroom was rehabbed before he died and you got here. That the hot tub was installed. That a down blanket was on the king
sleep number
bed. That top of the line jet sprayers were in that bathroom.” Her face turned sad. “And then I would go visit him in that god forsaken care center in Ogden twice a week.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Which I never let him pay me for.” She shook her head. “Your uncle was a kind, good man. You should be grateful you had him. And…I’m trying to get this all done like he wanted.”

He’d woken and sobered up. Fast. “Yes, he was.” He suddenly felt sheepish. She’d done all that. All that for…him. His uncle had wanted that for him. Shame coursed through him. Shame and anger and pain that his uncle hadn’t told him. But the thing that really stood out from this lecture was one fact. “You’re not married?”

She held up her hand with the ring on it. “No, idiot, I’m married.”

“Then why did you call yourself a single mom?” he shot back.

Her face paled, and she backed away, going down the steps.

He followed. “What?”

“It’s a long, clichéd, boring story.” Quickly, she tugged her winter gear into place and replaced her boots.

He was confused. The bulldog worker that had been terrorizing him suddenly wanted to leave. “What’s going on?”

Her face was still pale. She pushed her pink pom pom hat into place and tugged one her boots and gloves. “I—I just have to go.”

Suspicion stirred inside of him. “What happened to your husband?” An overwhelming urge to know assaulted him. He stepped in front of the side door so she couldn’t leave. He didn’t know why he sounded so fierce. Why thinking about her, wearing a ring and not living with her husband, made his venture into marriage and divorce seem real again.

She blinked a few times and then glared at him, defiance in her eyes. “None of your business.”

All the angst and worry from his own marriage bubbled up. “He cheated on you?”

The look on her face went quickly from defiance to complete anger. She slapped him. Hard.

Then she covered her face and seemed dazed. “Don’t EVER say that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She pushed past him, almost completely getting stuck in the soft layer of snow by the stairs. But she recovered and moved to one of the snowmobiles.

It wasn’t that Roman minded a good slap now and then. He didn’t mind it if he deserved it. But he didn’t think he had deserved it. He was on her side. Before he knew what he was doing, he had on his winter clothes and had grabbed the keys for the other snow mobile. He took off after her, centering his sunglasses on his face to prevent snow from getting in his eyes. The weather hadn’t lightened up a bit.

He followed her and finally caught up when she slowed in front of a rocky field. When he was a little closer, he saw the lone stone-twisted metal arch that simply said Cemetery. He came to a stop behind her snowmobile. She’d pulled to the side of the cemetery and was trudging through the snow, some parts coming up to her hip.

Even though it was probably completely inappropriate, and even though he didn’t know why he was doing it, he trudged after her.

She looked up when he was two steps away, as if she hadn’t heard him park. “Why are you here?”

He frowned and looked at the grave she’d cleaned off. “I don’t know.”

Her breaths were loud, and then they gradually evened out. They both just stood there. The snow fell in waves around them, making him feel like they were almost the last two people on earth. “What happened?”

She didn’t answer for a couple of minutes, but he waited. “Another cliché story—car accident.” She shrugged, and tears fell down her cheeks. “He’ll be gone a year tomorrow.” She looked hollow and sad and tired.

Roman wanted to reach out to her, pull her into him, shield her from this pain. But, of course, he didn’t. That would be insane. He hardly knew her. “A local boy?”

She closed her eyes for a second and then flipped them open. “How come you make it sound so…so…trite?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” And he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I just wondered if you grew up together.” Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he felt like if he quit talking, it would be worse.

“Yes, we grew up here. We used to own the farm on the way into town. It was sold three months after he died.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t keep up the payments.”

It was all slipping into place. “So that’s why you know how to fix everything?”

She nodded and bit into the side of her lip. “Your uncle came to me at Josh’s funeral and asked me to take over his place. He was still living there, but he’d quit taking guests. Mrs. K just cooked for him. He could still get around okay, and you know he didn’t need the money from the business. At the time I told him I couldn’t do it, but all he did was hand me a key and tell me that the Lord would provide. Then a check started showing up every month for 30 hours a week at 20 dollars an hour.”

A slow tear leaked out, and she swiped at it angrily. “You know, that’s how small towns are. They fill needs where they can. And your uncle was one of those people who just helped people, with nothing in it for himself.”

Out of nowhere, Roman felt his own tears threaten and then spill. His uncle always spoke about how the scriptures said your left hand should not know what the right hand was doing. He was selfless. He served, not to gain a spot in the media, but to be the best man he could be.

A stab of remorse fell through Roman. He wanted to be that man. He wanted to be a man that someone cried over when he was dead. Really cried and not because they wouldn’t win at football. No. He wanted to do something real. Something that changed people’s lives.

“So after I lost the farm, I used my savings to rent a small house in town. I took the key for the place and got to work. He’d been put in the care center in Ogden by this time, but he’d left the list of what he wanted done. I would go chat with him about how it was turning out. I took pictures to show him. Obviously, the list just kept growing.” She shrugged and grinned at him. “I like to make new lists.”

He hesitated, roughly wiping his face. “I noticed.”

Her face lit up. “Did you use the hot tub?” She truly looked hopeful and happy that he would be pleased with it.

He couldn’t help grinning. “It was the perfect touch.”

“And you liked the sleep number bed? I got that at a super great sale.”

Touching his lower back, he marveled, “Back doesn’t hurt at all.”

Keeping her smile in place, she nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

Roman let out a sigh, trying to absorb all this new information. “So it’s a good thing I didn’t show up when it was a real dump earlier?”

“Exactly.” She laughed. She looked around and then back at him. “So now you know more than you ever wanted to know about Katie Winters. I’m a Wolfe Creek resident. Single mom. Widow.”

He shook his finger at her. “You mean the great Katie Winters.”

Wistfully, she lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”

Something shifted inside of him as he studied the vulnerability in her eyes. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Perplexed, he tried to clear his mind and think of something to say. “I don’t know, Katie Winters, I think I might want to know more.”

Their eyes held, locked for a few seconds, then she shifted back to the gravestone.

Gingerly, he stepped forward and read, “Joshua Winters, beloved husband and father.”

Katie touched the top of it. “I know beloved is cliché, but it’s true.”

Inexplicable pain surged through Roman. He wanted to take away all of Katie’s heartache, this thing that obviously kept her running, driven to keep the bills paid. His eyes were suddenly opened to her problems. Actual problems—not just how many grams of protein she took in a day.

He stared at the grave and then bent to trace the initials. “I don’t think beloved is cliché at all. I called my mother beloved.” His voice was quiet.

“Oh.” Her voice was soft, and she turned to look at him. “You did?”

He nodded. “It wasn’t fast…it was long. Four years. Lots of treatments. She was the best mom a boy could have.”

“Your father?” She asked.

He scoffed, “Left when I was two. Didn’t look back. I couldn’t care less about him. The only man I truly cared for, and who cared for me, was Jim.” More sadness pressed on his chest and moisture filled his eyes. “He paid for my mother’s medical expenses.” He wiped his eyes. “He loved me before I was a star, after I lost myself in my career, and even when I wasn’t sure who I was.” He closed his eyes.

Without warning, Katie took his gloved hand in hers and moved him down the rows of markers. She pointed. His uncle’s looked fresh, new. The message on it was ‘To all the people in this town—it’s been a fun ride. To R…I love you. Go Destroyers!’

A laugh jerked out of him before he could get a hold of his mixed emotions. He shook his head. “They were always his favorite team.” A river of tears traced down his cheeks and then anger bubbled. He clenched his fist. “Why didn’t he call me? Why did he tell that attorney NOT to call me for the funeral?”

It was silent, and then Katie answered. “I didn’t realize he had told the attorney not to call you. I just…it doesn’t matter what I thought.” She hesitated. “But you know how he was. He knew you had playoffs and the championship game. He knew you’d worked so hard to get your knee back in shape, and he knew you might get a shot. I’m sure he didn’t want to tell you and have you blow it.”

More tears spilled down his cheeks.

This time, her naked hand reached for his face and gently brushed away the tears.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slipped his own glove off and took her hand.

What happened next could only be called a mixing of time and breath and a little bit of magic. As Roman stared in her eyes, he knew what he felt for Katie Winters was something he’d never felt for anyone else in his entire life.