Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (40 page)

“Consider it done,” Mays promised, then he started back toward the classroom, his strides light as though a metric ton of dread had been lifted from his shoulders. At the last moment he turned and said cheerfully, “Are you two coming or not?”

Nancy grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t. I have the other children. But I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Sobbing happily, she gave the mom a joyful hug and insisted, “Go!”

As soon as Nancy was gone, Rachel covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to sob one last time. Then her phone buzzed and she answered frantically. “Vince?”

“Hey, teach. Did you hear? He’s gonna be fine.”

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“His dad’s riding in the ambulance. Want me to swing by and pick you up?”

He sounded so casual and yet so Thor-like in his calm, capable handling of this crisis. So she tried for a capable tone as well. “Thanks, but you should go on ahead. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“Good deal. Tell the other kids I said ‘hi.’ And, teach?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for calling me. I’m gonna follow that ambulance now, but call again if you need me.”

“I will.” She disconnected, her heart swelling with adoration. Had he actually just thanked her? When they all should be thanking
him?
Prostrating themselves at his feet?

“Rachel?” Mrs. Rayburn had stopped a few feet away as though understanding she was overwhelmed. “It’s such good news.”

“He found him,” Rachel whispered in awe. “He found him.”

“He’s a hero,” the principal agreed, sniffling. “You should go to the hospital. Betty and I will stay with the children.”

“I just need a minute with them,” she said with a tearful smile. Then she hugged the older woman and proclaimed in strangled relief, “Our baby is okay.”

Mrs. Rayburn burst into tears. “When I thought some awful pervert had him . . .”

“I know. I know.” She hugged her again, then backed away and wiped her face, laughing. “Look at us. We should be smiling, not crying. Come on,” she added, taking the dedicated principal by the hand. “Let’s go share the good news.”

• • •

When the children were settled on their lily pads, Rachel told them with a smile, “Kyle’s doing much better. His mom and dad are with him.”

“Did someone kidnap him?” Tommy asked in a hushed voice.

“No, sweetie. No one took him. He had a bad morning, but he’s okay now.”

Alicia—always the observant one, always the Bannerman fan—asked knowingly, “Did Mr. Brammerman save him?”

“Yes. Kyle’s daddy
and
Mr. Bannerman. And the police. But guess what? Every single one of you helped too. By answering our questions and keeping our spirits up. I’m so proud of you.” She smiled lovingly. “We’re so lucky to have each other, aren’t we?”

Alicia jumped up and shouted, “End zone celebration!”

Startled, Rachel burst into joyful laughter when the entire class sprang to its feet like one amazing organism. Then they did their victory dances, jumping, spinning, waving their hands in the air. And because Rachel couldn’t resist, she too sprang up and pointed a finger at the heavens, Bam-style. Then she leveled her arm, pointing proudly at her children
—his
children—and started dancing too.

• • •

Trusting Mrs. Rayburn and Betty and a handful of joyful parents to manage things at school, Rachel rushed to the hospital. Detective Mays had provided a quick recap, explaining how Kyle had been found unconscious in a concrete drainage ditch behind the goat shed. Apparently he had slipped on a combination of hay and filth, and while someone would have found him eventually . . .

The thought still chilled Rachel to the bone as she drove the busy streets.

Now a smiling woman at an information counter gave her the good news: the little Abrams boy had been moved to a room on the third floor and would spend the night.

His condition was stable.

Too frantic to take the elevator, she bolted up the stairs. Not because she needed to see Kyle. He was okay. He had his parents and a team of doctors.

She just wanted to see Bannerman. And there he was, pacing the hall, his expression calm but still vigilant.

“Vince!” She propelled herself into his arms, and he accepted her warmly, pulling her close and assuring her, “He’s fine, teach. He’s fine.”

She stared up at him through tearful, loving eyes.
“You
did this.
You
. I’ll never forget it.”

He seemed overwhelmed, but she didn’t care. He was everything to her and it was time he knew it.

So she sandwiched his gorgeous face between her hands, stared into his electric blue eyes, and told him sternly, “I’m going to say something.
Promise
me you won’t say anything back. I don’t want you to. This is something from me to you. Me to you. I don’t want anything in return.”

“Rachel,” he murmured.

But she stopped him by putting her fingertip against his lips. “No, Vince. I don’t want you to say it back. I don’t need that. I just need to
tell
you. This one time. Then we’re fine.”

His eyes blazed, and she could see he wanted to say something obnoxious, but all he did was nod.

So she took a deep breath, then blurted, “I love you. I’ve
always
loved you. Always. And I always will. Even before you did this for me. Saved Kyle for me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll never forget that. Never. You’re everything to me, Vince Bannerman. Now and forever.”

He started to speak, so she pressed her finger to his lips again. “No. Don’t
ever
feel like you need to say it back. I want to be with you, but if you walk away today, this minute, I’ll still love you forever. So
please
don’t talk
. Please
just walk away. It’s what I want. What I need. But I’ll never forget you. Not ever.”

He stared into her eyes and asked her softly, “Do you hear how crazy you sound?”

“What?”

“I love you too, Rachel.”

“No! You don’t need to say that.”

He chuckled warmly. “I’ve loved you since you started doing that face thing. I love you like crazy. Like a madman. And I always will.”

“The face thing?” she asked, completely confused. Then she burst into tears and buried her face against his chest.

He held her gently, repeating her name into her hair until Nancy Abrams spoke from a few yards away, saying, “Ms. Gillette?”

Rachel turned to her, disoriented, but only because she had forgotten there were other people in the world.

“Please don’t cry,” Nancy pleaded. “He’s going to be fine. The doctor just told us so. Some exposure. And a concussion. But honestly it could have been worse if it weren’t for Mr. Bannerman.”

Rachel pulled free of the halfback and tried for a professional smile. “What wonderful news.”

“He wants to see you. Both of you. We all do. So please don’t cry. It’s all better now, I promise.”

Rachel could barely comprehend the shift in focus, but Bannerman did it for her. “The kid wants to see you, teach. So get it together, will ya?”

“Oh, God.” She giggled helplessly, grateful that he had looped his arm around her waist. Then they followed the mom to the room, where Kyle was lying in a bed. Everything was white. The walls, the sheets, the bandages, the splint on the poor baby’s right arm.

Her intent was to hold back. Let Bannerman—the conquering hero—be first to greet the child. But instead she ran to Kyle’s bedside and picked up his uninjured arm, kissing his perfect fingers adoringly. “Hey, Kyle.”

“Hi, Ms. Gillette,” he said groggily.

She smiled through her tears. “Let’s make a deal. You can call me ‘teach,’ and I’ll call you Cargo Boy.”

Kyle’s goofy smile radiated through the room. “Okay, teach.” He stared past her to Bannerman and said proudly, “My dad saved me. And
you
helped.”

“Hey, Kyle.” Bannerman strode over to him. “I hear the goat looked out for you while you were asleep. Cool, right? But from now on, try using a bed, will ya?”

Kyle’s smile was dazed and lopsided. Then it faded. “Mr. Whiskers is dead.”

“Best damned cat ever,” Bannerman told him solemnly.

“Best damned cat ever,” Kyle agreed as he drifted back to sleep.

Bannerman grinned at Ken Abrams. “That’s gonna get me detention for sure.”

When Ken chuckled, Rachel gave him a smile that included his wife as well. “Thanks for letting us see him. We’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” Ken assured her.
“Both
of you.”

“Just take care of that Pebble Beach thing,” Bannerman told him with a chuckle. “Sounds like you’ve got more clout than I do.”

“Consider it done. And if either of you ever needs a lawyer, remember Nancy’s the best. And I’m not so bad myself.”

Bannerman grinned. “I might need one of those pre-nups someday, so thanks.”

“Vince!” Rachel tugged at his arm, her cheeks warming as she wondered what Kyle’s parents would make of that teasing remark.

She wasn’t really sure what to make of it herself.

• • •

From the way he propelled her down the hallway, she knew he wouldn’t stop until they were in her bed. Or on the butcher block. But she needed something faster, so she pulled him into a room marked QUIET and firmly closed the door. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and reminded him blissfully, “You saved Kyle.”

He stared down at her, his blue eyes misty. “He’s a great kid.”

She nodded, running her fingers through his long, bronzed hair. “Are you really in love with me?”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

“Just once more, please.”

His gaze softened. “I love you more than any guy ever loved any babe. More than John Spurling loves Erica McCall. More than Sean
Decker
loves Erica McCall.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“Believe it.” He lowered his head and kissed her with almost savage passion, and she gasped, then gave it right back to him. She adored this crazy barbarian, and would spend the rest of her life proving it, starting with this kiss.

When he finally loosened his hold she asked breathlessly, “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was in the air when you called.”

“In the air? she asked, confused. “You mean,
our
air?”

“Yeah, baby,” he said, his tone hoarse. “Our air.”

“Oh, God . . .” She touched his face. “Were you in Portland all weekend? Ever since that awful dinner?”

“Yeah.” He winced apologetically. “I was pretty pissed at you Friday night. I guess you caught that, right? But by the time I got to my place, I was more pissed at myself.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

He hesitated, then admitted, “I was pissed at myself for being such a sap. Thinking everything was good between us, when you just saw it as some temporary hookup.”

She bit her lips. “So you were actually still mad at
me?”

He nodded ruefully. “When I woke up on Saturday I still wasn’t fit company. So I went to the gym to work it off. By then, I was definitely pissed at myself. For blowing it with you. Just like everyone said I would. John, Deck, Erica.” He grinned apologetically through his pain. “Then at some point, I was pissed at
you
again. Not because of what you said to Murf, but because of all that shit you said the week before.”

“Pardon?”

“About being okay with me banging other women. How you
wanted
me to bang them. To keep things simple. So I felt like a sap again.”

She gave him a weak, confused smile. “Poor you.”

“I knew you were having a rough time too,” he admitted apologetically. “I felt like crap about that, but I just needed to work it through, once and for all. And when I woke up on Sunday morning—man, I was so crazy in love I couldn’t see straight. I wanted to jet right back to you. But I figured you were at church. Then shopping with your friend. And I knew I had to get my act together before I took another run at you. Not just the romantic stuff, but the agents. The money. The financial security in case I get hurt.” He cleared his throat. “The word’s out that my old guy retired so the phone rings every five minutes. I set up some appointments for later this week. And since I didn’t want to show up at your place empty-handed, I did some shopping of my own.”

“Oh, Vince. The only thing I wanted was you.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that, right? Because I was a jerk when I dropped you off. So I wanted to sweeten the deal. Then last night, I took John out for a beer, showed him the ring, and asked if he thought I was wasting my time.”

“There’s a ring?”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

Laughter bubbled up in her and it felt like heaven. He was teasing her again. Wasn’t that the best sign of all?

“Anyway, the big dog said what
you
said. That you’re crazy in love. So I should get it done before you wise up and dump my ass.”

“Oh, my God.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. They clung to each other, heedless of the institutional setting, their mouths going crazy, until finally they pulled apart, breathless and sheepish.

Then Rachel told him softly, “We should talk about what I said to Murf. Because you were partly right. But mostly wrong.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

She took a deep breath. “You could never,
ever
blow it with me. But I was so sure you’d get bored. Or just—well, the novelty would wear off. So I wanted to prepare myself for that. That’s why I wanted you to see other women. To remind me I was just one among many.”

“Geezus, Rachel.”

She stroked his jaw. “Then you told me I was the only woman you were sleeping with, and I felt special. And it was wonderful, but also scary. Because it would hurt so much worse when you said good-bye.”

“Why would I do that? It doesn’t even make sense.”

She shrugged. “You’re used to so much variety. So much excitement. So I wouldn’t have blamed you. But for me? Every Friday was a gift from God.”