Double dog dare, p.9
Double Dog Dare, page 9
Luke shucked his street clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist. He liked to start his pre-game prep with a shower. It helped him to clear his head so he could focus. He turned toward the showers just in time to see McGraff reach for one of the chocolate chip cookies left in Jacobs’ cubby.
“No!” Luke shouted before tackling the rookie to the floor.
“Get the fuck off me!” McGraff yelled as the two men wrestled.
“Did the Crime Dog go after one of Jacobs’ cookies?” someone asked as the players in the locker room gathered around.
“Holy shit, that would have been a disaster,” another guy murmured.
McGraff nearly kneed Luke in the nuts in his struggle to get free. Still, Luke managed to pin him to the floor. “Calm down and listen carefully. Jacobs religiously eats three chocolate chip cookies before every game. Not one. Not two. Three. Three cookies the team special orders for him and only him. He eats them right after he finishes getting taped. No one touches his cookies. You got it?”
Shoving with all his might, McGraff was able to dislodge Luke and spring to his feet. He eyed the rest of the quiet room before marching toward the tunnel leading out onto the field.
Fletcher reached a hand down to help Luke up. “The lad didn’t know.”
Luke rewrapped his towel around his waist. “Yeah.” He stared down his teammates. “It was an honest mistake. Nothing happened. There’s no reason for Jacobs to ever hear about it.”
The rest of the guys nodded in agreement. They were all eager to keep the peace in the locker room. Luke headed for the shower, eager to finally get into his pre-game mode.
Thirty minutes later, he was showered, taped, and ready to head out to check out the turf when his phone buzzed with a text. It was a photo of Gram and Elizabeth with the Growlers’ owner, Mrs. Ciaciura. At the picnic last weekend, Elizabeth had charmed the team owner. Mrs. C. invited Elizabeth and his gram to sit in her box for the first game. Elizabeth looked ecstatic. His grandmother looked like she was enjoying herself, if not a tad overwhelmed. Which was odd since she’d met the team’s owner several times over the years. This wasn’t even Gram’s first game in Milwaukee.
“Where’s McGraff?” Coach Washington startled Luke with his question.
“You asked me to room with him. I didn’t realize that included babysitting him.”
Wash shot him a menacing look. “I want to go over routes with him before things get crazy in here. Go out and see if you can find him. Tell him I want to see him.”
The coach turned on his heel and headed toward the offices lining the back of the locker room before Luke could lodge a protest.
Luke swore loudly. He should have come on the early bus. Damn Palmer.
He charged through the tunnel and onto the field. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his feet hit the turf, however. There was nothing like the feel of opening day. The flags lining the upper deck seemed to be flapping a welcome-back salute at him. The warm breeze off the lake carried in the mouthwatering scents of food fans were grilling at the tailgate outside the stadium.
Several of the opposing players barked in his direction. His reputation as the protector of stray dogs was well known throughout the league. Luke gave them a jaunty wave before heading toward the middle of the field, where one of the trainers was guiding Van Horn through a series of stretches.
“Here’s the Director of Dares himself. The stakes are high on opening day. What have you challenged your teammates with today?” the trainer asked.
“The lineman with the cleanest pants at the end of the game owes a hundred bucks to Fletcher’s Mathletes,” Luke said distractedly.
The trainer grinned at Van Horn. “Your boy is making sure you’re well protected today.”
“As he should,” Van Horn grunted.
“Have you seen McGraff?” he asked the quarterback.
Van Horn glanced up at him from the turf. “What’s he done now?”
Shit. Van Horn hadn’t been in the locker room when the kid went for Jacobs’ pregame snack. That meant someone snitched. No wonder Wash was looking for him.
“You should know by now that nothing is secret in a locker room,” the trainer said. He jutted his chin toward the end zone and the section of the stands that was home to the Growlers’ band. “No need to worry, though. I’d say your boy isn’t suffering too badly. He seems to have found a hottie to console him.”
Luke spied McGraff near the entrance to one of the tunnels used to bring cameras and equipment onto the field. He was smiling down at a woman dressed in a Growlers T-shirt and khaki shorts that did a great job of accentuating shapely legs. Her wavy chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It bobbed up and down along with the hand she was wildly gesturing with. Both she and McGraff laughed when she nearly knocked over a microphone in her exuberance. She was too slow in righting the microphone, though, toppling over a row of water bottles set out for the band. A pile of sheet music suddenly fluttered in the breeze when she tried to save the bottles.
The woman was a hot mess.
A very familiar hot mess.
“What in the ever-loving hell,” Luke said under his breath as he marched in their direction.
McGraff had wrangled up most of the sheet music by the time Luke arrived. Summer, however, was on her hands and knees chasing water bottles that threatened to roll onto the field. Luke stepped in front of her and stopped one of the bottles with his sneakered foot. When she glanced up, her startled expression quickly changed to the annoyed one she seemed to reserve only for him.
“Don’t you touch him!” She jumped to her feet, trying in vain to juggle the water bottles in her hands. Giving up, she dropped them to the turf before stretching out her arms and blocking a chagrined-looking McGraff with her body.
Did she seriously think she needed to protect the rookie from him? Luke arched a brow. McGraff averted his eyes.
Just as he thought.
The kid likely told her an abbreviated version of what went down in the locker room earlier. He’d deal with McGraff later. Right now, he had questions. Lots of them. Starting with what was he doing with Summer.
“Care to explain how you two know each other?”
McGraff leveled a hard gaze back at Luke. “What business is it of yours?”
It was none of Luke’s business.
None. At. All.
Except the way these two were carrying on before he showed up had his gut twisted up in knots. And he didn’t need any knots in his stomach with kickoff an hour away.
“It’s not his business,” Summer chirped. She crossed her arms beneath the generous bosom her T-shirt was stretched over nicely. “But if it will make you go away and stop bullying Antonio, we met Friday night.”
Stop bullying Antonio? Was she high?
Then something more concerning registered.
“Wait.” He gestured to McGraff. “You said you were meeting a fireman.”
She opened her mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it. Her lips turned up into a smug smile. “A girl can have more than one date on a Friday night.”
Behind her, McGraff smirked.
Summer and Antonio?
It wasn’t only his gut tied up in knots now. Luke’s temple began to throb.
“Coach Washington wants you in his office. Now,” he barked at the rookie.
Summer slapped her palms against her thighs with a groan. “There you go again. Acting like a bully.”
Again with the bullying bullshit. “When have I ever bullied you?” he demanded.
“Oh my God, practically every time you speak to me.”
Luke rested his hands on his hips. “Name one time.”
Her hands were on her hips now. “The other night. You tried to bully me into playing for your friend’s proposal.”
He heaved a sigh. “For the record, I wasn’t bullying. I was pointing out why every one of your excuses was lame. But the problem has been solved. Palmer has decided to propose at a bar while throwing axes.”
The idea still sounded idiotic to Luke. Since he never intended to propose to anyone himself, however, he had no license to throw shade on the punter.
“Now that’s lame,” McGraff said.
“Isn’t it?” Summer wrinkled up her nose. “Is this guy a lumberjack or something? No woman should be proposed to while axes whiz past her.” She turned to McGraff. “I know. You should offer to play keyboard. Maybe some folksy love song or something. It would make the whole thing feel more romantic.”
Mother of God. He needed a roadmap to understand this woman’s thought process.
The scuttlebutt around the league was that McGraff had majored in music. Last month at training camp, he’d whipped off a few tunes on a shabby upright piano in the dorms. Luke had to admit his performance was decent. But how did she know that?
“I’ll play if you do.” McGraff’s suggestion had Luke rocking back on his heels. “We could do a duet. ‘Endless Love’ or something.”
Summer shook her head vehemently and grimaced. “Don’t tell me that’s your Great Granny Pearl’s favorite song?”
What the fuck? She knew his grandmother’s name?
“Come on.” The rookie reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Luke’s jaw clenched at the intimacy of the gesture. “You know you don’t want Palmer to ruin the poor woman’s proposal. It’ll be fine. I’ll be there to support you all the way. We’ll be a team.”
Her face softened, and she placed a palm on McGraff’s chest. Luke swallowed the growl that forced its way up from his belly when she touched his teammate.
“You’re sweet,” she practically cooed. “But if I agreed to play at all, we’d be doing something much hipper.”
“Nobody is playing anything,” Luke roared. “Except for a damn football game.” He leveled a finger at McGraff. “You. In Coach Washington’s office. Now.”
They both aimed dumbfounded looks at him before McGraff found his sulk once more. With a nod at Summer, he pulled away and headed for the locker room. Of course, Miss Priss couldn’t leave it at that.
“Wait,” she called after him. When she caught up to him, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Have a great first game, Antonio. You’re gonna rock it.”
Jealousy, fierce and furious, gripped Luke. When had anyone ever sent him off to a game with that kind of exuberant affection or caring?
“He’s lonely,” she said softly once McGraff was several yards away. She turned back to Luke. “He misses his family.”
Luke knew how that felt. He’d been missing his family for as long as he could remember.
“He’s not as worldly as he’d like everyone to think,” she continued, closing the distance between them. “He’s simply trying to fit into his new life, and it’s hard for him. You should let him play at your teammate’s proposal. It would go a long way to making him feel like a part of the team.” She glanced back toward the tunnel McGraff had disappeared into and sighed. “If he says he’ll only do it if I perform with him, I guess I’ll have to. It’s important that he not be so lonely.”
Her compassion gutted him. Why did this woman never do or say what he expected?
She placed her fingers on his forearm, causing the nerve endings beneath his skin to pulse. “Please, Luke.”
Those big caramel eyes of hers slayed him. He took hold of her wrist and tugged her toward the equipment tunnel behind the bandstand. “Come with me.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t protest. She did continue to plead McGraff’s case, though.
“You’d be doing a nice thing for your teammate by including him. Both your teammates, as a matter of fact.”
He released her wrist and pressed a finger to her lips. “Hush.”
“But—” she murmured against his skin.
He would have laughed at her tenacity. Instead, he did the most reckless thing he’d done in his life. He kissed her.
The moment his lips met hers, whatever remained of his brain cells—and his well-honed control--scattered across the stadium. Luke could not have cared less. He was too intrigued by the taste of her. The feel of her soft lips opening without fuss beneath his. The sweet curves of her body that his hands were suddenly exploring.
That trademark obstinance he needed from her to stop this madness was nowhere to be found. Instead, she kissed him back like she did everything else, with reckless abandon and passion. Her fingers slipped beneath his T-shirt and skimmed across his skin. One of them moaned. He was pretty sure it was him because, damn, Summer Pearson turned him on like no woman ever had.
Had he been thinking clearly, that very fact would have scared the bejesus out of him. But he wasn’t thinking clearly. He never seemed to be able to when this woman was involved.
Luke tilted her head back to gain better access to her sweet, warm mouth. They both grew more frantic as their tongues and their bodies collided. Summer sighed into his mouth, making him incredibly uncomfortable in his football pants and pads. She pressed her palms to his chest and backed him against the concrete wall. He was palming her lush, round ass when a voice echoed off the walls like a referee’s whistle.
“What the hell, Kessler!” Van Horn shouted.
It took a moment for the quarterback’s words to permeate the sensual fog surrounding Luke. Not so for Summer. She quickly detached herself from his arms, jumping back wearing an astonished, what-have-I-done look. Her panicked breaths filled the tunnel as she swiped furiously at her swollen lips.
For the first time in his life, Luke didn’t have a ready comeback or pithy comment to soothe things over. He was frozen against that damn cold wall. Summer avoided making any kind of eye contact with him or Van Horn. His asshole teammate didn’t have the good grace to leave. Instead, he stood there like a pissed-off father who’d caught a boy taking advantage of his teenage daughter.
The truth of it was, the quarterback was right. Luke owed Summer an apology. He opened his mouth to do just that, but she wasn’t interested in hearing anything he had to say. A gulping sob escaped her mouth before she slapped a hand over it and dashed out of the tunnel, nearly blindsiding Van Horn in her haste to escape.
Luke swore violently when he finally regained the use of his limbs. He charged after her, only to be stopped short by Van Horn.
“You’ve got bigger issues to deal with right now,” the quarterback said.
“Have I ever not been prepared for a game?” Luke snapped. He hadn’t. For much of his life, Luke made it his business to be prepared for anything.
With the exception of the last few minutes.
He needed to find Summer. He needed to apologize for taking things way too far. Not that Van Horn would understand. The quarterback was more machine than man, thinking only of football and how best to win every game. It wasn’t in his nature to exhibit empathy for anyone else. And Luke wasn’t in the mood to listen to one of his speeches. Nothing his teammate said would deter him from seeking out Summer and making things right.
“Your father is in the locker room. He brought your brother with him.”
Except maybe that.
Chapter Nine
“You might have mentioned Dad was coming to the game.” Luke was having a hard time tempering his tone with Gram.
It wasn’t fair of him to take out his frustrations on her. But his father’s sudden presence in the broadcast booth was the icing on the cake of a shitty day. A day in which Luke had dropped more balls than he’d caught. Fortunately, one of the few passes he managed to hold onto was for the winning touchdown.
Growler fans had already forgiven him. Van Horn and Wash, not so much. Before Luke could escape the locker room, the quarterback had issued a summons to study game film back at his place that night. As if Luke wanted to relive any part of this day. Or be subjected to his father’s on-air commentary of his performance. Fortunately, he had the excuse of having to drop Gram back at Sunset Glen first. Hopefully, that would give him enough time to regain his runaway composure before heading to Van Horn’s.
“I had as much idea he was coming as you did,” she replied tersely.
He puffed out a breath. Of course, she didn’t. Jake Kessler was as stealthy as a damn crocodile. He loved the element of surprise. As if showing up when Luke or Gram least expected it would make up for all the other days, months, years of radio silence.
“They sure didn’t bother staying long. It would have been nice to spend some time with Brady,” Gram added. “I hardly know him. He’s all grown up now.”
Luke ground his teeth together as he steered his truck into the parking lot of the senior community. At eighteen, his half-brother wasn’t exactly “all grown up.” But having won the lottery of the Kessler gene pool, Brady towered over Luke. If that wasn’t enough, the kid possessed a laser-sharp passing arm, making him one of the country’s top college prospects at quarterback. With his mammoth shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes, he was their father’s “mini-me” in every way that mattered.
While Luke was a potent reminder of Jake Kessler’s greatest mistake.
“You should take dad up on his offer and go visit,” he suggested. “You could go to one of Brady’s games.”
Luke couldn’t help the all-too-familiar guilt that always accompanied any discussion of Gram’s other grandchildren. It was his fault she barely knew Brady or his younger sister, Layla. Their father would have likely brought them around more often if Luke had been able to tolerate life in Canada rather than decamping to Idaho and Gram’s house whenever he got the chance. Instead, Jake took his wife and kids on vacations around the world. Better to expose his kids to Christmas in the tropics or summers on Lake Como than Idaho with the son he never wanted.
Except he had wanted Luke once.
Memories of fishing with his father on Redfish Lake and camping trips in Gram’s backyard flashed before Luke’s eyes. He’d been the center of his dad’s world back then. Those summers spent together seemed as if they were from another universe. A universe before Jake Kessler became a megastar in the league and the husband of an oil heiress.
