Read Love at the 20-Yard Line Online
Authors: Shanna Hatfield
Love at the 20-Yard Line (23 page)
Relief washed over her as he waved and strolled out of the parking lot toward his apartment.
At least now, she could stop worrying that he didn’t like the way she kissed. Her new worry was maintaining control of her emotions and not pushing him too close to the boundary of his.
Chapter Seventeen
Haven tossed a green salad and set it on the table before taking pork chops out of the oven and covering them with foil to stay hot. Quickly glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, she hurried to her bedroom and changed, then spent a few minutes primping in front of the mirror.
Brody was back from his away games and this would be the first evening they’d spent together since he brought her lilacs two weeks ago.
With one last look in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks then gave herself a goofy grin before rushing back to the kitchen.
“Hey, doll? Anyone home?” Brody knocked on the door and let himself inside. Haven gave him a key the last time he was there, letting him know she trusted him not to abuse the privilege.
“In the kitchen,” she called, pouring iced tea into glasses then placing hot rolls in a basket. She covered it with a napkin to keep the bread warm.
“Something smells good.” Brody wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. “And dinner smells pretty good, too.”
“You’re a tease.” Haven ate up every word he said. She turned around and smiled at him, placing her hands on his cheeks, and gazing into his face. “I missed you. It seems like you’ve been gone for months.”
“Tell me about it.” Brody hugged her and rested his chin on top of her head. “But we’re home for the next two weeks before we have another away game.”
“I know, and I’m really glad. Wes and Tammy are bringing the boys to your game this weekend and I think Mom and Dad are coming again, too.”
“Really? That’s awesome. I’ll try to do something to make the game special for the boys.” Brody would get Mason and Jed an autographed ball.
“Just getting to watch you play will be excitement enough for them. They don’t know they’re going because they’ll drive Wes and Tammy crazy with questions between now and the game.”
Brody chuckled, releasing Haven so he could wash his hands at the sink. He waited for her to sit at the table before taking a seat.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me, Haven. I’d eat anything,” Brody said, looking forward to a home-cooked meal. He knew Haven, like her mother, was a good cook and couldn’t wait to cut into what appeared to be a juicy pork chop.
“I wanted to.” She smiled as he took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring the tender flavor of the meat.
“That is so good.” Brody cut another bite. “I shouldn’t be so glad you’re domesticated, but I am. This might be the best pork chop I’ve ever had.”
“You are so full of it.” Haven grinned at Brody as he winked at her, helping himself to more salad and another hot roll.
“Did you make the bread?” Brody asked, slathering it with butter.
“No, the bakery did.” Haven was glad Brody enjoyed her culinary efforts, as basic as they were. “Just don’t get any ideas that I cook like this all the time. I just happened to finish with a client earlier than planned and had time to actually prepare something for dinner rather than give you a cold sandwich or tacos again.”
“I don’t mind those either.” Brody enjoyed every morsel of his meal almost as much as seeing Haven’s lovable face across from him at the kitchen table. He could get used to having dinner with her every night, knowing she waited for him at home.
Quickly squelching those thoughts, Brody instead asked her about her job, her family, and if Allie had done anything crazy since he’d been gone.
While they washed the dishes, Haven asked Brody about his mom, Marcus, and if he had plans for Easter. She invited him to spend it with her family.
When they walked into the living room, Haven noticed one of Brody’s football jerseys tossed on the couch.
“What’s up with your shirt?” she asked, pointing to the jersey.
“The game this weekend is ‘Go Pink Night’ and all the players are supposed to add some pink to our jerseys.” Brody picked up his shirt and held it to his chest. He grinned, lifting his gaze to Haven. “I was hoping you could help me out. Adding pink to my wardrobe isn’t among my particular skill set.”
Haven took the jersey from him and returned to the kitchen. She spread the shirt on the kitchen table and eyed it critically.
“I don’t have stuff here to do anything. Want to go with me to the craft store?” Haven asked as she gathered her keys and phone.
“Sure, let’s go.” He motioned for Haven to precede him out the door. Since he walked to her apartment from his, they took her car to a store Brody had driven past many times but never entered.
It was a mega-store out of every man’s nightmares. He entered the warehouse-type space filled with row after row of sparkly doo-dads, fabric and yarn, wall décor, fake flowers, and more girly stuff than he wanted to see in a lifetime.
Haven grabbed Brody’s hand before he became rooted to his spot next to the exit door, and tugged him down an aisle. What seemed like hours later, but was less than thirty minutes, they were on their way back to Haven’s apartment with a bag full of supplies.
“You look a little traumatized,” Haven teased as she pulled into her parking space and opened her apartment door.
“I am. Please don’t ever take me there again,” Brody begged in a pleading tone. “No man should have to suffer like that.”
Playfully smacking his arm, Haven giggled and went to the kitchen where she dumped the supplies out on the table. Using pink glitter paint, she highlighted both his name and number on the jersey. She added pink stripes down the sides of the shirt and along the neck as well as pink embellishments on the sleeves.
Brody watched her efforts and shook his head when she finished. “I’m going to look like Tinkerbell’s long lost cousin. The guys are definitely going to make fun of me.”
“No, they won’t.” Haven grinned at Brody, enjoying the time she spent with him as well as the opportunity to do something crafty. “You said they all have to add pink to their shirts, so you won’t be the only one.”
“True, but only a few of the guys are married or have girlfriends to help them.”
“Then you won’t be the only one there with pink on your shirt. I promise,” Haven said, washing her hands at the sink to remove paint residue then filling two glasses with iced tea. “Now did I hear that the shirts will be up for bid after the game?”
“Yep. We have to surrender them at the end of the game, sweat and all.” Brody accepted the glass Haven handed him and sat on the couch.
She sat beside him and curled her legs to the side. “And the money raised goes to the local cancer center for women?”
“That’s right.” Brody studied Haven’s pink lips and rosy cheeks. She looked prettier every time he saw her. “Tell everyone to wear pink Saturday when they come to the game.”
“I will, but you should know my dad and brothers don’t own anything pink. I might talk them into wearing a pink ribbon pin, but that will be the extent of it.”
Brody took a drink of his tea and nodded his head. “I’d be right there with them, except it’s mandatory. The footballs will be pink and we even have pink laces for our shoes.”
“No way.” Haven giggled, picturing all the rough and tough players running around with pink shoelaces. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m sure you can’t.” Brody poked Haven in the side, making her giggle even more.
They visited for a while then Brody said he needed to leave. Haven let him get all the way to the door before she pulled down his head and gave him a long, lingering kiss.
“What was that for?” he asked, his voice gravelly and deep.
“I really, really missed you, Brody. I’m so glad you’re home for a few weeks.” She leaned into his strength, into the place that felt like home - wrapped in his arms.
“Me too, Haven. Me too.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Did you see that? Did you see it?” Hale excitedly grabbed Haven’s arm as they jumped to their feet and watched Brody run the ball to the end zone. She grinned as the pink glitter paint on his shirt sparkled in the arena lights.
After leaping high in the air and catching the ball, he somehow managed to evade a tackle and score a touchdown.
The crowd went wild, yelling, “Jump it up, Jackson! Jump it up!”
Brody’s teammates knuckle-bumped and backslapped him before turning their attention to the next play. Marcus tapped Brody’s helmet twice, his way of saying, “great job!”
Haven smiled Brody’s direction and felt her heart go soft when he looked her way and held up his hands for a brief moment, just long enough for her to see he’d written her a message that said, “Hi, doll!” across the palms of his gloves.
She waved at him and he lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
At halftime, Hale and Haven went to get a refill on their sodas and some sweet mini doughnuts to share. On the way back to their seats, her nephews grabbed her around the waist, both talking a mile a minute. Wes managed to get seats just a section over from where Haven sat with Hale and her parents.
“Did you see Brody make a touchdown?” Mason asked, dancing off one foot to the other in his enthusiasm.
“I did. It was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”
“Yep. And I saw him wave at you, Aunt Haven,” Jed said, eyeing the treats in her hand.
“You did? How’d you know he was waving at me?” Haven asked, smiling at Tammy and Wes as they walked up behind her.
“Because he calls you doll and Mommy said he wrote ‘doll’ on his hand. I wanna write stuff on my hand,” Jed said, turning to look at his parents. “Can I write on my hand when we get home?”
“Not tonight.” Tammy rolled her eyes at Haven and tugged her boys back toward their seats.
“He’s an amazing player, Haven. Tell him we’re having a great time watching him.” Wes patted her back then followed his wife and sons back to their seats.
“Looks like Brody’s fan club just got four new members,” Hale said as he and Haven returned to their seats next to Rachel and John. Haven handed them a soda and one of the containers of doughnuts.
“So it seems,” Haven agreed, using her fork to stab a chocolate-covered orb. She felt her mother’s elbow bump her side and looked at her.
“These little doughnuts are really tasty. You think they’d give me their recipe?” Rachel asked, forking another bite.
“Mom, seriously?” Haven said, laughing at her mother.
“Here they come,” John said, pointing as the players entered the field. The third quarter flew by with the teams tied going into the fourth quarter.
The last few plays were brutal with Brody tackled twice. Haven watched as he caught the ball and took a few steps. An opponent flew at him, forcefully shoving him into the dasher boards surrounding the field.
“Looks like tempers are flaring as the game nears the last vital moments of the fourth quarter. It’s going to come down to the wire to determine a winner unless someone scores soon,” the announcer said.
The other team almost made a touchdown before the home team took possession of the ball. From there, they became an unstoppable force, working their way down the field and scoring the final touchdown mere seconds before the buzzer signaled the end of the game.
The fans had no problem proclaiming their excitement, stomping their feet and yelling loudly.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” John said, high-fiving Hale as he stretched across Rachel and Haven.
“Can we stay a few more minutes?” Haven asked, looking at Hale and then her dad. “The players are auctioning off their shirts for the cancer center and I want to see how much they earn.”
“Did you bid on Brody’s?” Rachel asked, smiling at her daughter. Haven already told her she helped Brody decorate his shirt. She’d made ribbon pins and forced Hale and John to each put one on before coming to the game. Rachel and Haven both wore pink blouses and Haven had a pink ribbon tied around her ponytail.
“No. It’s too rich for my blood, but I thought it would be fun to see who gets their sweaty, smelly ol’ shirts.”
“When you say it like that, they don’t sound particularly appealing,” Rachel said, wrinkling her nose.
The announcer talked about the silent auction and asked the players to return to the arena with their shirts so they could present them to the winners.
When his teammates returned to the arena, wearing regular jerseys while carrying their pink-adorned shirts, Brody wasn’t among them.
Haven happened to see him run into the stands with two autographed footballs for Mason and Jed. He’d made sure they weren’t pink, since that was the color of ball used for the game that night. The players passed out as many of those as they could during the game.
Rachel held one Brody delivered into her hands during the first quarter. When he leaped over the dasher boards and ran up the steps to hand it to Rachel, he winked at Haven and squeezed her hand before returning to the game.
Now, he received hugs from both boys as their dad held the footballs and Tammy tried to get them to let Brody go. He ruffled their hair, ran down the steps to the field, and jumped over the dasher boards into the arena.
Still wearing his pink shirt, it was obvious Brody spent the time he should have been changing in getting his teammates to autograph the balls for Mason and Jed.
The announcer proclaimed the winners starting with the lowest jersey number and working his way up. Since Brody’s jersey was number fifteen, it didn’t take long before the winner ran out to claim the shirt he wore. Swiftly removing it, he handed it to a young woman dressed in a tight, short skirt and an even tighter knit top. She brushed against him and kissed his cheek before sashaying away, giving him a long look over her shoulder.
Disgusted Haven clenched her fingers into a fist.
“You gonna take her out, baby girl?” Hale teased, observing the tense set of Haven’s shoulders and the annoyed look on her face.
Haven released the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding and relaxed. “No, of course not.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want everyone to see my sister in action. It would be a shame for you to mop the floor with her before she even realized what hit her.” Hale said. Both Rachel and John laughed.
“Shall we go?” Rachel asked, getting to her feet and nudging Haven’s leg.
Haven nodded her head and followed Hale out of the stands to the parking lot. She knew Brody would make an appearance at the after-game gathering. He told her he’d give her a call, if it wasn’t too late, when he left the party.
An hour later, Haven sat on her couch reading when she got a text from Brody asking if she’d come pick him up. She sent a message saying she’d be right there, then hurried out to her car. Ten minutes later she pulled up outside the sports bar, hoping Brody would be waiting outside, but he wasn’t.
Resolved to find him, she got out of her car and hurried inside the dimly lit interior. Several of the players hung out talking to fans.
She finally spied Brody standing at the end of the bar with the woman who’d entered the winning bid for his shirt. She wore it and had her hands looped around Brody’s neck, pressing close against him. When she grabbed his head and pulled it down for a kiss, red rage along with a potent dose of jealousy rushed through Haven.
Haven wanted to run over and pull the woman’s brassy hair out by the roots. Instead, she spun on her heel and rushed toward the door, bumping into Marcus.
He smiled and grabbed her arm to steady her. “Hey, Haven. I thought Brody would be gone by now. He said he was going to have you pick him up.”
“He appears to have his hands full right now.” Haven pulled her arm away from Marcus. “I’m sure he can find a ride.”
Marcus watched Brody disentangle his zealous fan while Haven stormed out the door. He hurried over to Brody and pushed between the woman and his friend.
“Unless you want to mess things up with Haven more than you already have, you better run out and catch her. She’s leaving.”
Brody raced out to the parking lot. Haven stood by her car with trembling hands and tear-filled eyes, trying to push the right button on her key fob to unlock the car.
“Haven!” Brody wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened and pushed against him, but he held on. “This isn’t what you think and definitely not what it looks like.”
“What do you think it looks like?” she asked, angrier than she’d ever been in her entire life.
“It probably looks like I was kissing that woman, but I wasn’t. Honest. You can ask the guys. She’s been on me all evening. Marcus borrowed my truck to take someone home who didn’t feel well and I told him to drop my keys off in the morning because I was tired of dodging her. That’s why I asked you to come. I wanted to get away from her.” Brody hoped Haven understood.
“Is that why you smell like cheap perfume and have lipstick smudges on your neck?” Haven clenched her hands in an effort to keep from slapping Brody’s handsome face.
“I already told you, it’s not my fault. She honestly wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried foisting her off on Baker or Johnson and they didn’t want anything to do with her either.” Brody raised his hands in an innocent gesture, wishing Haven would stop glaring at him and calm down. He’d never seen her angry before. With narrowed eyes and parted lips, she took short, sharp breaths while tense hostility radiated from her stance.
“I’m supposed to believe you didn’t welcome her attentions, not even a little bit.”
“Yes, because it’s the truth.” Brody started to lose his patience. He hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t going to stand out in the parking lot defending himself if Haven didn’t want to believe him. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Not that I know of,” Haven said, not quite ready to let go of her anger or be reasonable.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brody stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to explain that?”
“No, I don’t care to. And I don’t care to spend more time with you this evening, especially when you smell like that… that… woman!” Haven poked a finger into Brody’s bicep. If his arms hadn’t been covering his chest, she might have punctured a lung with the force that one dainty little finger delivered as she turned it into a weapon. “I’m going home.”
“Fine. You just do that.” Brody grabbed Haven’s keys from her hand and pushed the button to unlock her door then handed them back to her. “Have a great night.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You, too!” she yelled then got in her car and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Stubborn, frustrating woman,” he muttered, deciding he better follow her home to make sure she made it in one piece, since she drove like a crazy person.
Marcus still had his keys so he ran back inside and found his friend. When he turned to leave, the woman who’d caused all his current misery tried to kiss him again. Brody set her aside, none too gently, and gave her a cool glare. “For the last time, I’m not interested!”
He ran outside and got in his truck, hurrying to catch up to Haven and hoping he didn’t get a speeding ticket. He watched her blow through a stop sign and prayed she would make it back to her apartment without causing a wreck or killing herself.
When he pulled onto the main street running toward her place, her car zipped through traffic. In fear, he watched as she took a corner a little fast and wide, almost smacking into another car. Brody arrived at her apartment complex in time to see her slam her front door.
There was no reason to talk to her when she wouldn’t listen to what he was trying to say. Angry and disappointed, he went home and took a shower. Although he was mad at Haven, he had to agree with her - the woman’s perfume did smell cheap and tacky.
