Running Away With You (Running #3) (21 page)

His two friends go running out the door, and the prick scrambles to his feet and hurries out behind them. 

Everyone in the restaurant has been watching the entire incident.  You could hear a pin drop, and I swear I can hear Evan’s pulse beating furiously.  Finally Derek releases me and I go running to Evan, throwing myself into his arms.

He grabs me briefly, but quickly pushes me away, scanning me from head to toe.  “Please tell me he didn’t lay a hand on you, Juliette.  Did he hurt you?”

I take a deep breath, relieved to see that Evan is okay.  “No, I’m fine.  He just got a little grabby, that’s all.”  I smile up at him and turn to Derek and Marcus.  “Thanks, guys.”

The customers eventually go back to their business, resuming their conversations and enjoying their meals. Marcus looks carefully at Evan, trying to gauge his mood, and asks, “Mac, are you okay?” 

I startle and look him over more carefully now, noticing a drop of blood on his shirt.  Evan sees me staring at his shirt and looks down, too.  He places a hand up to his nose, and when he pulls it away, it’s tinged with blood.  “Shit!” he curses.

I drag him into my office as his nose begins to bleed more freely. In a matter of seconds, his shirt is covered in blood. “Evan, we have to call the police,” I tell him anxiously, “and get somebody in here to look at your nose.”

He grabs a wad of tissues and holds it up against his nose.  “Please.  I’ll be fine. I’ve been hurt worse on the football field.”

Gathering my strength, I push my tears to the side and shove Evan toward the couch and demand he sit down and lean his head back. 

“Who’s the bossy one, now?” he teases, grinning wickedly but following my directions nonetheless. 

Marcus appears at my door with an ice pack and a clean bar towel.  Evan holds it against the bridge of his nose with one hand and wipes up the blood with the other.  We sit quietly together until the bleeding stops. 

I help him strip off the bloody shirt and toss it to the side and watch as he cleans the blood from his handsome face. 

That’s when I get mad.

“What were you thinking getting into a fight right now?  There are crazy people out there.  Do you know what could have happened?  Someone could have been seriously injured – or worse!”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Juliette.  That scumbag had his hands all over you.  Do you have any idea what would have happened if he’d hurt you?  I would have killed him.  I could have, you know.  If anyone ever hurt you, I’d end his life without hesitation.”  His voice trails off.  I look up into his piercing blue eyes.  He gets me all twisted up inside.

Evan senses my melancholy and wraps his arms around me. I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.  He’s freshly showered.  I close my eyes and inhale deeply.  His clean, fresh smell is hypnotic, putting me in a trance.

Evan’s hand makes contact with the skin on my leg.  Slowly, he works his way up my thigh.  Everywhere his hand touches is left burning.  When his hand ventures under my skirt, he has no way of knowing that his hand is resting in the exact place where the scumbag’s hand was.  I tolerate his touch for as long as I can before I recoil from him, pulling his hand away and curling up tighter in his lap.  A shiver travels down my spine.

“Hey, what just happened?” Evan asks.

I don’t want him to know.  He’ll worry.  I don’t know why I’m reacting like this.  It’s not like anything actually happened.

“I think it’s the air conditioning,” I tell him.  “I just got a chill.”

“I call bullshit.  He touched you, didn’t he?”  I nod.  “I fucking knew it.  If I hadn’t stayed for that meeting, you’d be home with me right now.  I’m so sorry.  This never should have happened.”

I see the anguish in his face. 

“Yeah, well, if I’d listened to my gut, I would have told Marcus to stick close to me.  I knew those guys were walking the line, but I thought I could handle it.  I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Evan pulls me tight against his bare chest. I whisper in his ear, “You should probably get that nose looked at.  Want me to drive you?”

With hardly any effort whatsoever he turns the tables, and before I can react he has me flat on my back, lying on the couch as he hovers over me, his hot breath tickling the small hairs on my neck.  “Well, if you’re offering, I do have something I’d really like looked at.”  He rubs up against me, and all reason is lost.

Blood, Sweat, & Tears

W
e are all on the edge of our seats as the clock ticks down.  The score is tied at seventeen, and there’s less than a minute left in the fourth quarter. It’s been an exciting back-and-forth duel between the underdog Sentinels and the heavily favored 49ers that’s coming right down to the wire.

With seventeen seconds left on the clock, the 49ers are in the red zone, the perfect scoring position.  I can see Evan on the sideline, helplessly pacing.

After the snap, Kaepernick pulls back and spots an unprotected receiver deep in the end zone.  He sends it downfield like a rocket, just above the head of the receiver, who makes a jump for the ball.  Everyone holds their breath as we watch, hoping and praying that the pass is incomplete, forcing the game into overtime. 

Out of nowhere appears Sentinels Cornerback Anthony Romeo Santos.  The ball slips through the fingertips of the 49ers receiver and lands squarely in the capable hands of Santos, who picks it off in the end zone.  Santos weaves his way through the field and along the sideline, with blockers running alongside with him.  The clock has only moved a few seconds, but that’s all the time Santos needs to run one hundred yards for a Sentinels touchdown. 

Everyone in the suite is wildly excited, jumping up and down, hooting and hollering.  Everyone except Shea, that is.  She made good on her deal with Evan, sporting her official Evan McGuire Sentinels game jersey.  But it’s nearly impossible for a die-hard 49ers fan to celebrate a hundred-yard touchdown run that ends in a Niners loss.

I can only imagine how much celebrating Anthony’s new wife Brianna must be doing right now.  As far as I know, this is his first big play of the season.  Amidst all the celebratory cheering going on in the suite right now, I pull out my phone to send her a quick text.

The screaming throughout the stadium only gets louder as they send in Troy Duffy for the extra point, which he handily scores.  When the 49ers take possession, there are only three seconds left on the clock.  One play in and the horn blows, signaling another Sentinels victory. 

We watch and listen as reporters follow Kaepernick off the field.  His four turnovers, three interceptions, and one fumble leave him a lot to answer for.  He brushes off their questions and walks somberly off the field and into the locker room.

We wait for Evan to meet us in the suite, hopefully bringing a special visitor with him.  “Do you think he’ll come?” Emmy asks excitedly.

“I have no idea,” I tell her.  “But I think our chances went down dramatically when he lost.  He’s really not known for being a good loser.”

The other guests in the suite have emptied out, leaving our small group here to wait for our victorious quarterback.  “That’s the first Pick Six I’ve ever seen,” Derek tells Shea.

“Maybe if you went to more games, Slick, you’d see them more often.  Peyton Manning has the most in one season – six I believe.”

“What’s a Pick Six?  I thought it was a lottery or something.”  I hate to sound ignorant, but I’ll never learn more about the game if I don’t ask questions.  This way, when I’m home alone with Evan later, I can talk about the game and actually sound like I know what I’m talking about.

“Really, it’s any situation where a pass is intercepted and returned for a touchdown.  The ‘pick’ is slang for interception. The ‘six’ is the number of points they get for a touchdown.”  I nod my head as it becomes clear.  “A hundred-yard Pick Six is pretty rare.”

I catch a glimpse of Evan on screen, dealing with the press.  He’s freshly showered and dressed impeccably.  My heart quickens a little at the sight of him.  When the interview is over, I know that in only a few minutes he’ll be here.

Having private suites allows us the benefit of being shielded from the fans.  There’s a private entrance and Evan can get to us without being assaulted and molested.

The door swings open, and in walks Evan, looking heart-stoppingly handsome in his baby-blue button-down shirt and black Dockers.  Without a jacket, I can appreciate the more dramatic contrast between his trim waist and broad shoulders.  His square jaw and strong cheekbones remind me of a Greek god, the type statues are created to personify and adore.

When he sees me, he offers me a cocky grin and shrugs. He’s alone.  There is no fellow quarterback with him today.

When the door shuts behind him, Emmy races over to it, opening it and looking up and down the halls.  “Where’s Colin?” she asks.

“Emmy!” I caution her.  “Aren’t you going to at least congratulate Evan before the interrogation?” I throw my arms around his neck and whisper in his ear, “You were amazing today.  I’m so proud of you.” 

He squeezes me tight and kisses me.  “I’m so glad you’re here.  I swear I play better knowing you’re in the same building.”

When Evan finally releases me, Emmy apologizes.  “I’m sorry, Evan.  That wasn’t cool.  Congratulations.  Great game.”  She smiles sweetly up at Evan.  “Is Kaepernick coming up here or what?”

The doorknob turns and everyone freezes in their tracks, eyes glued to the door.  Emmy and Shea rush past Evan to greet the guest first, practically grabbing the door as it swings open.  Everyone gives a big moan of disappointment when Adam walks through the door.

“Gee thanks, girls.  Great to see you, too.”  He puts an arm around Emmy, pulls her close, and gives her a sweet kiss on the top of her head.  “I have something for you, sweetie.”  He calls out to no one in particular, “Come on in.”

For the third time in as many minutes, the door swings open, only this time in walks the unmistakable Colin Kaepernick, renowned playboy and heartthrob. 

Kaepernick is another perfect example of God’s fine work. Good looks, defined, chiseled abs, a strong, athletic build, perfectly placed tattoos all over his body, and a cute smile make him very easy on the eyes. He exudes sexiness.  The first few buttons of his shirt are left open, revealing just a hint of his tattoos.  Up close and personal, I can see why Emmy and Shea are crushing on him.

Evan walks straight toward him, hand extended, and the two exchange a quick handshake.  Colin offers Evan a compliment; “Great game today, Mac.”

“Thanks, man.  I know you have a plane to catch, but I just had to introduce you to a couple of friends of mine.  They wouldn’t let me outta here until they got to say hello.”

Evan introduces everyone and Colin actually sits down in the suite with us for a good ten minutes.  He talks about his team’s chances of winning a division title, what he does during off season, and favorite dining spots in San Francisco.  He’s more soft-spoken than I imagined, but every bit as charming.

When he receives a text from his team, he apologizes and excuses himself.  The team is leaving and he has a plane to catch.  The minute the door closes behind him, Emmy and Shea grab each other and squeal like schoolgirls.

Evan looks at Adam and apologizes. “Sorry, man, but I don’t think he’s getting off that list anytime soon.”

“Are you kidding?”  Emmy charges back.  “He’s my number one draft pick now.  Channing Tatum just slipped to number two.”  She bites her lip, considering her last statement, and adds, “Evan, if you know him too, please don’t tell him.”

“So Shea,” Evan asks, “was it worth the pain and humiliation of having to wear my jersey today?” 

She smiles and nods.  The last of the walls finally comes down and Shea walks over to Evan and actually hugs him.  “Thank you.  These past few months have been pretty awful.  But ever since I stepped into your restaurant, met you, Derek, and all your friends, everything has turned around.  This was great.”

Evan returns the gesture.  “No problem.”  He releases her into Derek’s open arms.  “Now, if you guys don’t mind, I’d really like to go home.  It’s been a long day.”

Unfortunately, we didn’t wait long enough, because when we exit the stadium, there are still fans milling around, hoping to get photos and autographs from their favorite players.  Flashes go off all around our little group as we attempt to make our way through the throng. 

Evan looks at me with bright blue eyes, and I know what he’s thinking.  “Go ahead,” I tell him. 

He squeezes my hand and grins. “I’ll be quick.”

Adam orders me, Emmy, and Shea to hang back while he and Derek flank Evan, holding people back from getting too close.

We watch as men and women alike, in every conceivable size and shape, crowd around him.  Slowly, Evan signs autographs, poses for pictures, and shakes hands. 

The three of us stand back and watch our men work the crowd.  Adam and Derek get their fair share of attention too.

After pleasing everyone, he stalks toward me, takes me by the hand, and pulls me toward the car.  “Let’s eat.  I’m starving.”