The Hero (Page 23)

He was stricken silent for a long moment. Really, he was shocked. Had he done that? He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Jesus, did I do that? Aw, I’m sorry, Gina.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I was in love with Mac. I had been for years. I just didn’t think he felt the same way, which is why I was very happy you asked me out to dinner. And I mean it, I enjoyed myself. I like you. But I knew right away, you’re not ready to move on. Scott, I think you need to give yourself permission to accept some things—your children are young. You were with your wife for a long time before they came along, before she died. I know you’d like to be in a nice stable relationship again and I know you’re frustrated, but you’re not ready. You still want to be with your wife. Until you run into someone who makes you see a whole new possibility, a whole new kind of life, it just isn’t going to happen. And lucky for you, too, because if you force this you and the new wife are going to have a third person in your marriage.”

He just looked down. “You might be right. But this is getting old.”

She surprised him with a laugh. “Tell me about it,” she said. “I spent sixteen years between lovers.”

“I don’t have that kind of time,” he said glumly.

“Oh, Scott, you have as much time as it takes. Let yourself off the hook. It’s okay if it takes a while to be ready to move on.”

“Got any suggestions on speeding up the process?”

“I’m sorry. No. But can I reassure you about one thing? As long as it took you to ask me out, as long as you’ve been working up to asking Devon out, neither of us was The One.”

“Really? And how does that explain Mac?”

“Well, the short version of that story is that not long after we met, he kissed the daylights out of me and we were both a little overcome. I was ready for that, more than ready. But Mac, whose wife had left him with three small children, was terrified. And he had this secret plan—he was going to use sheer willpower to keep away from any kind of romance with me until he felt safe, like until our girls had graduated from high school and were college bound.” Then she smiled very widely. “I think my couple of dates with you might’ve made him decide to take a risk or two. When it came down to a choice between being together or being alone and safe, he took the chance.” She sighed. “We were in love from the start. We just had lives that were too complicated.”

He lifted his coffee cup and sipped. “You should be a bartender,” he said. “Does everyone tell you their troubles?”

“Pretty much,” she said, pouring herself a glass of ice water. “And I don’t tell anyone anything. But in a few more years, when I finish my master’s, I’m going to start charging for my advice.”

* * *

Spencer arrived right at seven, balancing a pizza box on one hand and a six-pack of cold beer in the other. And the minute she saw him, she could feel her eyes light up, which made her cheeks blush just a little. He came inside and saw Mercy sitting on the sofa in her nightgown with a couple of her books. She looked at him and said, “What’s that, Pencer?”

“Pizza. Are you going to have a taste before you go to bed?”

She nodded and gave him a shy smile.

“Then come on, we’ll have it in the kitchen.”

She jumped off the couch and hurried behind Spencer. He was right at home, putting the pizza on the table, opening a beer and asking Devon if she’d like one. The pizza smelled so good she thought she might drool. She closed her eyes and just inhaled, making him laugh. “You don’t splurge on pizza, do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “But I make decent meals, just inexpensive ones. Oh, God, that looks so good. Brings back memories of school days and lots of pizza.” She grabbed plates, napkins and a knife to cut a small slice for Mercy. “Do you need a fork?” she asked him.

“Seriously? No way. That’s just wrong. It’s a hands-on dinner—just hands.” He sat down next to Mercy and gave instructions to her. “This is how you do it,” he said, lifting a slice and aiming at his mouth.

And she copied him, but the bite she took was very small and suspicious.

“She’s had pizza before, just never from a box.” She took her own bite and almost swooned. “Love pizza. Love, love, love pizza.”

“You okay with the toppings?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, chewing happily. She swallowed and said, “I want to hear all about your week. Your team, your training.”

“I saw you sitting in the bleachers during one of our practices. What did you think?”

“You work them hard. But they don’t look too bad. I wasn’t there long but I saw some decent passes, a few good kicks. And you looked pretty...relentless.”

“Most of those boys have been weight training in the off-season. They’re eager, that’s for sure. I had a good team in Texas, and a good booster club, but let me tell you something about this town—football is important to them. It’s necessary. It took me two days to see what Coach Rayburough meant about this high school and this town. They don’t have all the advantages of a bigger school in a bigger, richer town. We’ll go into this season with less training equipment, fewer personnel and with a team that has more personal responsibilities than the typical player. The academic requirements to play here are set higher, most of them have part-time jobs and family responsibilities, but they’re committed. And determined. I called a meeting this morning—purely optional on a Saturday morning. Just a meeting to talk about nutrition, weight training and some plays they probably haven’t seen, and every single one of them was there.” He took another big bite of pizza. Then he told her about the trip he made to Bandon to a big health food store to buy a special grain-and-nut mixture, heavy carbs to mix with fruit and yogurt as a start-up fuel. They talked about the importance of minimizing fat in their diets and doing all the other things to ensure their diets provided the correct sustenance for them to work hard on the field.

He would be talking to interested students about taking on training positions on the team, and told Devon he had asked Scott to be the team doctor on a volunteer basis.

And she was completely intrigued.

“I’m boring you,” he said with a laugh.

She shook her head. “Not at all. I love football. It’s as complicated off the field as on.”

“This team is going to go up against some big, talented kids. Kids with better equipment in some cases. It’s going to take more than a good playbook to keep these boys safe, strong and healthy.”

Mercy wandered away, back to the sofa with her books and the blanket she liked to sleep with while Devon and Spencer finished the pizza and continued their conversation. When he took a pause she dared say, “I wasn’t the only one watching your practice. Do you have an admirer?”

He frowned. “Ms. Benjamin? The half-naked history teacher?”

Her eyes flew wide and she gulped. “Teacher?”

He took a drink of his beer and nodded. “Showing her body to the student body. I’m surprised she’s getting away with that in a small town like this.”

“Oh, boy, you’re not happy.”

“I have a plan. I’m going to remove her audience. When she shows up in her little tiny panties, we’re leaving the field. If I have to, I’ll change the practice schedule.”

“Kind of sounds like you don’t like little tiny panties....”

His eyes darkened. “Depends who’s wearing them. And no matter who’s wearing them, sharing them with twenty-five young men during a training session isn’t exactly classy.” He tilted up his bottle again. “Did it bother you?”

She shrugged. “I played volleyball in high school. Our uniforms were kind of skimpy. But not that skimpy. And I ran track—again, we didn’t want much wind resistance so our gear was fairly brief.”

That made him smile. “You do like sports.”

“What’s not to like? Someday, when I get things together a little better, maybe I’ll get back into it.”

“No athletics the past few years, I take it?”

She laughed. “I lived on a small farm. Trust me, my muscles were worked plenty. But I’d rather play soccer or softball or run to get my exercise.” She turned to look into her little living room. “My pizza girl is out like a light,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll take her to bed and tuck her in.”

When she returned to the living room, Spencer was lying flat on his back on the floor. “Spencer!” she said, leaning over him.

“Did I mention my back is killing me? To say nothing of my knees, calves, shoulders?”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

He rose up on his elbows. “Yes. It’s the same at the start of every season, trying to keep up with boys half my age, trying to make them feel inadequate and competitive so they’ll push it a little harder. Quite frankly? I’m getting too old for this shit. But, God, it gives me a rush. Every new team gives me a rush but they’re killing me.”

She laughed at him. “Sounds like you’re the one who needs off-season training.”

“That’s just it, I keep up. I work out. They still hammer me when football training starts.”

She got down on her knees. “Roll over. And remember I don’t do this for everyone.”

He lifted one brow in question, but he rolled over.

She started to massage his shoulders, first softly, then with more depth and strength. “I don’t think there’s anything better than muscles that are stiff and sore from a good workout.” He groaned appreciatively and she laughed. “One of these years you’re going to have to stop showing off in front of the high school boys.”

“I have this fantasy—that each one of them thinks I can take him down if I want to. Don’t give me trouble, boy, because I can sack you.”

“Ego,” she said, drilling her fists into his back.

“Hmm. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Lower.” He stretched his arms out above his head. And she worked his back harder, deeper, half tempted to try walking on it.

She went after the small of his back, which was tight as a drum. “You take anything for this?”

“Two Advil, one beer. I’m thinking about another beer.” Then he yawned.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” she said.

And then in a swoop that she didn’t see coming, he rolled, grabbed her and she was on the bottom looking into those deep brown eyes as he leaned over her.

Those dark eyes seemed to glow a little bit. Her hands rested on his biceps and she was frozen, gazing.

“I didn’t know we’d end up like this,” he said.

“Kind of seemed like your intention....”

“The first time I saw you, six weeks ago or so, with your overalls and long braid, I didn’t know I’d kiss you. I didn’t expect to be holding you. I wasn’t looking for anything...”

“I know,” she said softly. “You’re a pretty new widower. I understand.”

“I don’t want to pry for personal details, but is he out of your life now? The man? Mercy’s father? Are you free from him?”

“I hope so.”

He tapped her chest above her left breast. “In here?”

That startled her; she didn’t realize just how much of a mystery her life was to him. “Oh, Spencer, that was over almost as soon as it started. I was afraid and confused and...I was vulnerable and he was very protective and loving. I didn’t realize he was a liar, that he didn’t care about me, only about possessing me, making me a part of his vision, his family, his ‘Fellowship.’ I haven’t been with anyone since Mercy was conceived.”