Completing the Pass (11 page)

Shaking her head, she walked back into the living room and found her father and Josh sitting together on the couch, heads close together. Whatever they were talking about, it had to be riveting because neither looked up as she approached.

“Women are complex,” Herb said, and Josh nodded in agreement. “But when you can get them in bed, they're only more complex. See, sex simplifies things for a man. For women, it just makes them insane.”

“Dad!” she said, shocked. “What the hell . . . heck are you two talking about?”

Josh grinned at her. “Your dad's giving me the Talk.”

The tips of Carri's ears burned. “You can't be serious.”

“Someone has to tell the boy about the birds and the bees,” Herb said, shuffling his feet in his house shoes a little while he leaned back in his seat. “If he's going to be taking my daughter out—”

“And that's the end of that.” Carri reached out and grabbed Josh's forearm, pulling as hard as she could. He let her pull him off the couch. “Have a good dinner, Dad. I'll be back later.”

“Remember what I told you about condoms!” Herb called out after them as Carri dragged Josh from her house.

The moment they landed on the sidewalk, Josh burst into laughter. His shoulders shook with it and he doubled over, butt resting against the brick column leading up the walkway. “Oh . . . my . . . God,” he said in gasping breaths between laughs.

“This is absolutely not funny.” Carri crossed her arms and glared. But his laughter was contagious and she felt her traitorous lips start to curve. “No, not funny at all.”

“Yeah, it was. I thought . . . Oh man.” Josh straightened and held a hand to his side. “I thought your head was going to spin right off your shoulders.”

“He was giving you the sex talk,” she hissed, falling into step with him as he walked toward his car.

“And you cut him off. It was just getting to the good stuff. Now how will I ever know how to please a woman?” With a wink, he walked to the passenger door and held it open for her.

“Ugh,” she moaned, and slid inside.

***

Josh pulled up to the two-story home and parked in the driveway. Beside him, Carri leaned forward and stared up.

“This is it?”

“Were you expecting a castle?” he teased, but knew what she meant. For someone with Trey Owens's implied wealth—one didn't just
become
a franchise star like him without making serious bucks to go with it—the house was surprisingly . . . normal. The neighborhood was on the high side of middle class, but not gated and not segregated from the rest of the population. No security guards, nothing that screamed, “Millionaire Lives Here.”

“Huh,” Carri said, and got out of the car. “Shit!”

“What?” Josh spun around and dashed over to her side of the car. “What's wrong?”

“We forgot a hostess gift.” Carri grimaced and held out her empty hands before reaching in for her purse. “I'm a dunce. I should have brought something.”

“I brought a bottle of wine,” Josh said, forcing his body to relax. “And don't scare a guy like that. Jesus, Carri.”

When he pulled the bottle from the backseat, Carri took it from his hands and read the label. Then she handed it back and patted his cheek. “Good pick. You've matured from that nasty hard cider you used to drink in high school.”

“That was all we could get our hands on.” He followed her up the walkway and waited while she rang the bell. A few moments later, Cassandra Wainwright-Owens opened the door with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey! Welcome! I'm Cassie,” she added for the benefit of Carri. Cassie stood back and let them in. Josh noticed she was barefoot beneath her jeans and a graphic T-shirt that proclaimed,
OH, SHIFT!
written on a keyboard. Closing the door behind them, she led them toward the kitchen. “Trey's grilling. It's, literally, the only thing the two of us can cook without ruining. I hope you're okay with that.”

“Grilled is fine,” Carri said, looking around the kitchen. “I'm Carri, by the way. Nice house.”

“It's small, right?” Cassie laughed when Carri flushed. “I know. I thought the same thing. He owned the house before I got here. Truthfully, it's perfect for us. After spending some time in my father's house . . .” She shuddered just a little, and Josh wondered what that was in reference to. “Large houses are just not for us. Oh, hey, wine.” Reaching for the bottle, she liberated it from Josh's grasp. “Awesome. Why don't you head on back and hang out with Trey doing the manly thing where you grunt at the grill while Carri and I do sides?”

“I can tell when I'm not wanted.” He held up his hands and headed for the patio, easily spotted through the sliding glass door. Just before he stepped out, he looked over his shoulder at Carri. She was watching him with a little panicked look in her eyes. He hesitated, even took a step back. But she straightened her shoulders, shook her head a little and mouthed,
Go.

She'd power through, even though she was intimidated by the company and the situation.

Atta girl.

Waiting until the door snicked closed behind him, he greeted Trey. “Hope you're not burning my food for taking your starting spot.”

Trey laughed as he used tongs to turn a piece of meat. “I'd never be that obvious. Years of playing have taught me some much more subtle, dastardly ways of playing pranks on a man. The locker room is never safe, my friend.”

“No kidding,” Josh said, coming to stand beside Trey at the grill. They both stared down at the meat in silence for a minute until Josh thought back to Cassie's words of wisdom about how men acted with a grill. Then he chuckled. “Your wife seems to think grilling is a man's sport.”

“My wife has a big mouth.” Trey hung the tongs on the side of the grill and motioned toward the picnic table on the deck. “They're good for a bit. Let's sit. Who'd you bring?”

“Friend from the early days. She's in town for a bit, so . . .” He shrugged. They might be going along with the dating thing for her father's benefit, but he wouldn't lie to a teammate. “She's staying with her family right now. There are health issues with her dad—well, you met him at training camp, so you know what I mean. It's tense. I thought she could use the break.”

“Good deal. Good friends who ground you are the only way to make it in this business.” Looking inside, Trey seemed to get lost for a minute. “Did I ever tell you how Cassie and I met?”

“No,” Josh said slowly, wondering about the segue. “Not that I can remember.” He knew there was some drama there—everyone knew when the story broke that the coach's illegitimate daughter was dating the team's quarterback—but how they met was still a mystery.

“She had no clue who I was.”

Josh snorted, but Trey smiled and shook his head.

“Seriously. We met in some dark club, and she's not even remotely a football fan. Or she wasn't. I'm bringing her over to the dark side.”

“The light side,” Josh corrected.

“True. So.” Trey took a pull from a bottle of water he had sitting on the table. “We met, and we had one night. Neither of us knew who the other really was. This was before she was introduced to the team. Before she'd even met her father.”

“Whoa.”

“Yup.” Trey nodded in acknowledgement of the craziness. “The odds were insane, but we found each other, formed that bond before any of the noise of our careers, our family, our connections got in the way. I really think that connection was what kept us from losing our shit along the way. The reminder that we chose each other first, in a dark nightclub, without even knowing each other's last names—just how we liked our pancakes.”

Pancakes? Josh ignored that and asked, “Once you figured it out, did you laugh?”

Trey huffed out a laugh. “Hardly. There was no laughing about that not-so-happy coincidence . . . at least not back then. It caused some issues, which we have mostly worked out now. But there's a point to the story.”

Josh didn't think all stories needed a point, but he was interested all the same. “Yeah?”

“She's the one person who will always call my shit. She's the one who will tell me if I sounded like an ass, or just if I've got spinach in my teeth. She's my sanity keeper.”

“You're telling me to find a girlfriend to keep my sanity,” Josh guessed.

“Doesn't have to be a woman. Before her, teammates helped. Stephen and Josiah, my closest friends, were there. But there's something about a person not connected to this world—at least on the field—that keeps you level.”

Josh thought about Tony and Derrick, and how much they loved him but weren't able to quite hide their excitement at his job, at wanting him to play more.

“Yeah, I got ya. I'm getting . . . pressure.”

“I'd be shocked if you weren't. Sorry, but that's just a way of life for now.” Trey looked worried for a second, glancing over his backyard, then lifted one shoulder for a moment. “I'm doing what I can to get back out there, but the pressure isn't gonna end anytime soon. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. Heal up.”

“Amen, brother.” Trey stood. “Let's finish the meat so we can go barge in on the ladies.”

“I've never been to Utah. Is it nice?”

Carri sat, watching the wife of an NFL god and the daughter of the god's coach toss a salad. It was surreal. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I don't hate it, so there's that. It's just . . . Utah.”

Cassie laughed a little and reached for a pepper. “Are you and Josh okay with some of this in here?”

Josh hated red peppers. “Yup. That would be great, thanks.”

Cassie started chopping. “It's almost embarrassing to do this in front of someone else. I go so slowly.”

“Please. At least you're cooking. My best meal of the day is the one I get from the Taco Bell drive-thru.” At Cassie's quick glance, Carri smiled sadly and nodded. “I'm afraid it's true. Josh gives me hell about it all the time, but it's an addiction.”

“So you've known Josh for a while?” Cassie finished chopping the pepper and slid it off the cutting board into the salad.

Carri grinned, thinking evil thoughts. “Yup. Since we were in diapers, literally. We're not dating,” she added, reading Cassie's questioning glance. “It's . . . complicated. My dad's not doing great, and he gets confused sometimes. Josh and I just spend some time together for the dual purpose of getting out of the house or away from things.”

“Oh.” Cassie set the salad forks down and watched her for a moment. “I'm sorry about your father. That must be so hard for you.”

Having someone outside of the family acknowledge that made Carri's eyes well up. She blinked hard, pushing back the tears with as much force as she could muster. “It's not easy. My mom is really good with him, but he needs more help, so I'm here for now until other arrangements can be made. But he's got it in his head that Josh and I are a couple. Telling him otherwise upsets him, so . . .” She raised her hands in a
What can you do?
gesture. “Josh and I just sort of roll with it.”

“That's really sweet of him. Josh, I mean,” Cassie added when Carri tilted her head in confusion. “I mean, that he goes along with it in order to keep your dad calm.”

Josh always loved her father. It hadn't occurred to her before then that he went out of his way to help Herb when he could. That he didn't seem to mind going the extra mile to make him smile.

“Huh,” was all she said, knuckling away the last of the wetness from the corner of her eye as the sliding door behind her opened up and the men walked in.

***

“They're just so freaking normal,” Carri said as Josh turned toward their parents' neighborhood after dinner. “Insane, because their jobs and family situations are anything
but
normal, and yet they just sit there, grilling their own meat and chopping their own salad . . . How'd you like the salad, by the way?”

Josh grimaced. “Too many red peppers.”

“You're welcome,” she added with a grin.

Josh knew that smile well. He reached over and pinched her upper arm. “Brat. You added the peppers, didn't you?”

“Just for you,” she said in a sweet voice. “Wait, why are we coming in the back way to the neighborhood? It's faster to go in through the front.”

“I need a minute.” After driving another fifteen seconds, he pulled to a stop in front of a house she didn't recognize. “Just . . . give me a minute.” Josh tipped his head back and sighed, eyes closed.

She wanted to reach out then, smooth the line between his eyes. He looked so . . . exhausted. So tired, worn down. Football season could do that to a guy, of course, and she knew that physically he was likely dead on his feet. Professional athletes weren't sloths, that was for damn sure. But the pain that crossed his face sometimes wasn't just a pulled muscle or a strained whatever. It was the pain of keeping up with the mental aerobics he was forced to go through, that he never expected to have to take on, or wanted to take on.

To take her mind off the instant want, the
need
to touch him, she looked at the house instead. For the life of her, she couldn't come up with who used to live there when they'd been children. Other homes in the area—even if the families moved—were still the Smiths' place or where that one family with all the yard toys that never got picked up lived
.
But this one wasn't ringing bells.

It was abandoned, that much was obvious. The telltale signs were all there, and her investor's eye caught them all. Too-tall grass, windows that were dusty, cracked paint and a warped edge to the garage door, and the paper taped to the front inside window that would proclaim the house bank property. No For Sale sign, not yet. It could take another year before the bank got around to off-loading it, unless a savvy investor with bank connections got to it first.

“If it helps,” she said after a minute of silence, “I think you're doing amazing.” When he slit one eye and looked at her from the side, she shrugged. “I'll give shit when it's due, but you know me. I can't just be cruel for cruelty's sake. You're not dropping the ball. You can do this.”

“Thanks.” He waited a beat. “Thanks for coming with me to dinner, too. It would have felt weird going alone.”

“I probably owe you for giving me a chance to escape.” When she turned to look back at him, his face was closer than she'd imagined. With a small smile, she started to sit back in her seat, but his hand cupped her chin.

“Why'd you chop it all off?”

“Hmm?” She could smell the spearmint from the gum he'd popped in post dinner and his body wash. “Chop what?”

One finger rimmed the edge of her ear, gently tracing where the hairs brushed against it. “Your hair.” His fingers tunneled through it to bring her head closer. “You chopped it off. Why?”

“Just . . . easier,” she breathed as their foreheads bumped. Would he taste like mint, too? Or something darker?

He gave her five seconds to wonder, then kissed her.

His taste—yup, mint—was the first thing she registered, but it was quickly overshadowed by
Holy Jesus Christ Josh Leeman is kissing me
. And not because he wanted to annoy her, or to make her father calm down . . . but because he wanted to. Wanted
her
. He'd told her before, but it still hadn't fully sunk in.

His hand curved into her hair and pulled her closer. The center console of his car bit into her hip, and she didn't care. When his tongue touched hers, tentatively, she opened her mouth and fisted her hands in his shirt to give him the green light for more. Harder. Faster. Please, more.

She saw spots flash behind her eyelids and she pulled away with a gasp. Breathe. She'd actually forgotten to breathe through her nose. What was she, thirteen?

“Damn,” Josh muttered, sinking back into his seat for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair, then just looked at her. The mixture of confusion, awe, and fear made her want to laugh. “Damn.”

“Back at ya, bud.” She finally calmed down enough to take in a full gulp of air. “Why . . . Why do you keep kissing me?”

“Honestly?”

She almost said no, because if he had to ask, the honest truth was going to be scary. But they'd never lied to each other before, even when it had hurt. “Honestly.”

He looked like he might reconsider telling her. Then he said, “Because kissing you is the most real thing I've got in my life right now. Scary as that is, strange as that is, you're the thing that, when I get near, I feel like I'm back on even ground. And you might hate that, but—”

She lunged at him, kissing him again with the same force and exuberance he'd kissed her. They explored each other like two teenagers at the Bleachers, except they were both in their late twenties and nowhere near the make-out point. When Josh's hand moved from her elbow to her waist, then up her shirt, she moved to arch back and give him space.

That's when the horn blared, long and loud.

“Son of a bitch!” She jumped forward, knocking foreheads with Josh. “Oh, son of a bitch!” she moaned again at the instant flash of pain.

“God, Carri, if you wanted to stop you could have just said so,” he said in a joking voice. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her back over to the other side of the car, then rubbed at his forehead. “I have to put that in a helmet tomorrow.”

She stopped rubbing at her own head and glared. “Right, well, luckily I don't have that problem. I just get to sport an identical goose egg and creatively style my bangs to cover it.”

He flushed, then cupped her chin and looked closely at her eyes. “You feel okay? Dizzy?”

He was checking her for signs of a concussion, she realized. Why was that adorable and exasperating at the same time? She knocked his hands away and straightened her shirt. “Just head home, please. I'm fine.”

“Yeah, you are,” he muttered, but turned the key in the ignition and drove for home.

***

The day after the Kiss that Turned Him Stupid, Josh met Tony and Derrick at Pizza Dan's for a catch-up. Their schedules hadn't aligned after training camp, so he was thankful to get a dose of unbiased friendship away from the insanity of work.

He sat in the booth, his back to the restaurant like always, and watched as Tony and Derrick slid into the booth. Tony looked like his normal self. Derrick, though . . .

“What?” Josh rubbed at his nose. “Dude, if I've got something on my face, tell me. Don't stare at me.”

“No, it's just . . .” Derrick shook his head, then waited while the server came over to get their drink orders. Derrick ordered their usual drinks for them while Josh pretended to look at the menu. The second the server was gone, Derrick leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “How the hell did you forget to tell us you were going to be starting?”

“I always play preseason games,” he reminded them. Tony scoffed, and Derrick looked mildly offended that Josh would play it off. “Look, it's not all my business to share. There are contracts and confidentiality agreements and . . . you know.” He left it open-ended because, frankly, he didn't have a clue what had stopped him from sharing with his two best friends.

“I can't believe it. This is your year.” Derrick looked pleased with the entire thing, as if he'd orchestrated Trey's injury and this opportunity himself. “You've got to tell us everything that happens. I wanna know what plays you're running on game day, and what it's like when you and Michael Lambert set up for a down.”

“Can you get me some more ass?” was all Tony asked.

This was probably why he'd resisted telling them. Because, much as he loved his friends, he knew it would change things.

“You both suck balls,” Josh muttered, clamming up as the server returned with their drinks.

Twenty minutes later, two slices into his pizza, Josh felt the back of his neck prickle. He turned around and saw a room full of people staring toward their table.

“Anyone else feel like a bug under a microscope?” Derrick asked, rattling the ice around his red plastic cup. He glanced quickly around the dining room of Pizza Dan's before rubbing at his beard. “I'm starting to understand the expression.”

“Nope. I'm good.” Tony used the knife to cut himself another breadstick and slathered it with marinara sauce. “Don't be weird. They aren't be looking at you, anyway. They're looking at the handsome one. Me.”

Josh just rolled his eyes and pushed his slice away. “This is the shitty part of the job.”

“So they stare at you.” Tony licked marinara off his thumb. “Who cares? Makes chicks easier to score with if they actually recognize you.”

Derrick looked disgusted and took another slice of pizza.

“This might shock you, but scoring with chicks is not really my concern,” Josh said, to Tony's eternal confusion.

“I guess you're going to have to get used to being stared at.” Derrick looked a little sheepish, as if he'd just now caught on to what this might mean for him. “Before, nobody recognized you.”

“A point for which I have previously been grateful, and now know why.” Josh glared at his pizza,

“But the ladies,” Tony protested.

Derrick slapped the back of his head. “Ignore the resident idiot.”

“I always do,” Josh assured him. “It's just I . . .” He trailed off as he noticed movement at the end of their table. Josh turned to give a polite smile to the cluster of teenage boys standing nearby, staring at him. “Can we help you guys?”

They whispered among themselves for a moment, then shoved one out to the front as their spokesperson. Josh bit back a grin, knowing the drill.

“Uh, are you . . . That is, my friend . . . They all said . . . You're Josh Leeman. Right? From Central Valley High?”

Tony snorted. Derrick grinned like a maniac.

“Idiot,” one of the boys hissed behind their spokesperson. “He's not from
high school
. He's from the freaking Bobcats. God.”

“I went to Central Valley,” Josh said, leaning back in his seat. “Class of 2007. You boys play there?”

Easy guess, given the letter jackets they wore with football patches despite the heat.

“Yeah, uh . . . can we just, like, get your autograph?”

Another groaned. “Selfie. God, Eric. Who let him talk?”

“You guys want a photo.” He stood, biting the inside of his lips to keep from grinning at the shuffling, posturing young men who looked like they'd rather chew off their arms than admit they just wanted something to Snapchat to friends later. “It's fine.” Standing, he waited for the guys to form a line and stepped in the middle. One handed his phone to Derrick, who looked a little like he might pop a hernia from holding back laughter. His hand shook so hard he had to take the photo three times before he declared it satisfactory.

As the group of guys shuffled off, Josh was inundated with other people who, now that the ice had been broken, thought it was a good time to come ask for an autograph on a napkin, a selfie, or a handshake and a good old-fashioned grilling about the team's chances for the upcoming season.