Kitabı oku: «The Date Next Door», sayfa 3

He grinned. “The lifeblood of this town. Danston’s social and cultural life revolves around the school—athletics, music, drama, dances. And tonight’s game is against our archrival, another small town that feels exactly the same way about their team, the Penderville Pirates.”

Nic could certainly understand a heated rivalry. She enjoyed sports and she was a fierce competitor herself on the department softball team. For that matter, she had been known to execute some pretty impressive—and highly illegal—tackles during games of flag football. She might not be looking forward to the rest of this reunion, but she was always in the mood to watch a spirited football game, even between two high school teams.

“Joel! You made it.”

The squeal had issued from a woman with blond-highlighted hair sprayed into a stiff, too-cute spiky style. The right colors of makeup had been applied a bit too heavily. Cushiony cleavage spilled out of a scoop-neck red sweater, and ample hips were buttoned into stretchy jeans. Splashy jewelry dangled from her ears and wrists and glittered on red-manicured fingers. Yet the woman’s smile was warm and generous as she gazed up at Joel with unmistakable pleasure. “It’s so good to see you. You look wonderful.”

He bent his head to brush a light kiss against her cheek. “Thanks, Heidi. And you look radiant as always.”

Heidi blushed rosily. “You certainly inherited your daddy’s charm. Unlike your older brother, I might add.”

Joel chuckled. “Ethan was born grumpy. But he’s a good guy.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t. He just doesn’t often bother with the little pleasantries.” She turned then toward Nic, her round face alight with visible curiosity. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Of course.” Joel reached out to pull Nic a bit closer, resting one hand lightly at the small of her back. “Heidi Rosenbaum, this is my friend from Arkansas, Nicole Sawyer.”

Heidi’s manicured hand was impossibly soft when she placed it in Nic’s unpolished, slightly more callused hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Nicole. You’re from Arkansas? So I assume you didn’t attend Penderville High.”

A bit confused, Nic shook her head. “I went to school in Cabot, where I still live, next door to Joel. Why?”

Heidi motioned toward Nic’s sweater. “Purple and black are the colors of the Penderville Pirates. The team we’re playing tonight.”

Suppressing a groan, Nic managed a wry smile. “I didn’t know. But I promise I’ll cheer like crazy for the Cardinals.”

Heidi giggled. “Good. They’re going to need all the support they can get.”

“Heidi!” someone called from another part of the room. “Come tell Jessica who was Student Council secretary our senior year. I think it was Janet, but she thinks it was Kelly.”

Heidi rolled her eyes. “Of course it was Kelly,” she called back. “And if she wasn’t having a baby in Birmingham even as we speak, she would take a piece out of your hide for forgetting that.”

Turning back to Nic, she confided, “Kelly was very proud of being elected that year. She’d run and lost three times before.”

“Oh.” Exactly what was Nic expected to say in response to that tidbit?

“Anyway, you wouldn’t be interested in that. Would you like a glass of wine? The house white isn’t too bad here.”

“Actually, I’d rather have a beer,” Nic replied, eying a tray full of invitingly frosty mugs.

“Oh.” Heidi blinked once or twice, as if surprised by Nic’s answer, but then she smiled at Joel. “Your friend knows what she likes, doesn’t she?”

Nic’s left eyebrow rose quizzically. Just what was that supposed to mean?

Another shout came from the group sharing memories on the other side of the room. “Heidi—who was historian?”

With a dramatic groan and a shake of her head, Heidi murmured an excuse to Joel and Nic and left to join her other old friends.

“Heidi knows everything there is to know about this class. Past, present—and probably future,” Joel murmured into Nic’s ear.

“You know what I said about her sounding a little scary when you told me about her? Turns out I was right.”

Joel laughed and nudged her toward the bar. “Let’s get you that beer. Then I’ll introduce you to some really scary people.”

Nic couldn’t remember ever wanting a drink more.

Chapter Four

Nic could almost feel the eyes trained on them as she and Joel crossed the room to the bar, Joel returning greetings along the way. There was open curiosity in those eyes, combined with speculation about her role in Joel’s life. She knew she looked much different than the stunning redhead they remembered with him. And while she rarely fretted about her appearance, taking for granted that she looked okay, she was well aware that she wasn’t the beauty Heather had been.

Not that it mattered, of course. She’d resigned herself years ago to descriptions like “cute” and “pleasant.” She’d even learned to be satisfied with that image, though cuteness wasn’t exactly an advantage in her job. And since she wasn’t competing with the memory of a tall, gorgeous redhead for Joel’s romantic interest, there was no reason for her to mind the comparisons.

Two beefy, eerily identical men with shaved heads and goofy smiles approached them a few minutes later, simultaneously slapping Joel on the back hard enough to slosh the beer in his just-filled mug. “Joel Brannon,” they bellowed in perfect unison. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Somehow, through some process Nic couldn’t imagine, Joel correctly identified each twin as he greeted them. “Hey, Ernie. Hey, Earl. How’ve you both been?”

Ernie answered, “We’re doing great. Me and Kay have three kids now. Earl and Cassie have two. Hellions, the lot of ’em.”

Laughing at the affectionate summary, Joel introduced Nic. The Watson twins greeted her much the way Heidi had—warmly but with open curiosity about her relationship to their old friend.

Introductions out of the way, Joel asked, “Are you guys still working in your dad’s heat-and-air business?”

“Running it now,” Earl corrected. “Dad retired last year.”

“Yeah? How’s he doing?”

“He’s loving the leisurely life,” Ernie said. “Fishing, hunting, playing dominoes over at the VFW. Driving Mom crazy.”

Joel laughed. “Good for him.”

“Hey, you remember the Penderville game our senior year? When you threw that sixty-yard pass to Gonzalez?”

Groaning, Joel took a sip of his beer before answering, “We lost—35 to 14.”

“Yeah, but that was one hell of a pass.”

“Sure impressed the cheerleaders,” Ernie said with a waggle of his heavy eyebrows. “’ Specially the captain of the squad.”

Earl cleared his throat and punched his brother in the ribs. He might have tried to be subtle about it, but he couldn’t have been more obvious—and Ernie got the message. His round face reddening, he muttered, “Uh, sorry, Joel.”

Joel’s expression didn’t change. “No problem. As I remember, impressing the captain of the cheerleading squad was my top priority that year. Might have explained why I was such a mediocre athlete.”

The brothers responded with weak smiles and a quick, awkward change of subject. It was no stretch for Nic to figure out who the captain of the cheerleading squad had been.

Heather’s shadow hovered behind them through the rest of the reception as Joel worked the room, casually introducing Nic as his friend from Arkansas, ignoring the questions in his old schoolmates’ faces. It was so obvious that everyone was carefully avoiding any mention of Joel’s late wife, which made it all the more apparent that they were thinking of her. Quite naturally, of course, since she had been a prominent member of their class.

Saying little, Nic watched them interact with Joel. There was no doubt that he was well liked and respected. Several of the other guests cornered him with medical questions, both about themselves and their children, but he handled it with practiced ease. He had a little more trouble handling their sympathy, which was always implied and sometimes almost blatant in soulful looks or syrupy tones.

She could see now what he had meant when he’d said he was tired of being treated like a saint or a pity case. Everyone was simply trying too hard to keep from reminding him of his loss. They even seemed almost apologetic about mentioning their own spouses or children, as if he might resent them for having what fate had taken from him.

She wondered how much worse it would have been if he had come alone. Would they have tried even harder to make up for Heather’s absence, making the situation even more uncomfortable than it was?

As reluctant as she was to admit it, he had been smart to bring someone with him. And considering everything, she supposed she had been the right one to ask, since she understood his predicament so well. But she still thought her original idea had been the best one—to send his regrets and skip this whole reunion thing.

“You might have told me,” Nic said when she and Joel were in his car again, headed for the football game, “that I was wearing the colors of your team’s rival.”

He gave her a ruefully apologetic look. “Sorry. I honestly didn’t remember what their colors are.”

Resigning herself to being seen by the home crowd as a representative of the enemy team, Nic pushed a hand through her hair and settled back into her seat. At least she liked football; she was sure she would enjoy the game.

Joel’s friends surrounded them at the stadium, everyone insisting on sitting together, one Watson couple on Nic’s left, the other at Joel’s right. Heidi sat on the bleacher bench in front of them, beside her necessarily taciturn husband. She turned frequently to chat, her attention barely on the game.

Nic did her best to watch the plays, but it wasn’t easy when everyone around them kept asking overly casual questions designed to elicit information about her and Joel. Heidi was the worst offender, of course, even though she was so polite about it that it would have been hard to get annoyed with her. All of her questions were phrased to seem as though she was simply trying to be gracious to Nic, showing interest in getting to know her better.

Nic answered each question briefly but civilly, giving away as little personal information as possible. As quickly as she could, she turned the subject to the game. “Your coach has an obsessive fondness for the standard I formation, doesn’t he?” she commented to Joel. “Seems like he could change it up a bit more.”

“He’s been running that same formation since I played for him fifteen years ago,” Joel replied.

“He should be using number twenty-three more. The kid’s a natural running back. He’s got the speed.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Earl agreed fervently. “Number twenty-three is my wife’s nephew, Kirk. He’s just a sophomore, but as soon as he gets a little better at tucking the ball more securely, he’s going to be a force to reckon with. If Coach gives him the chance. Coach tends to focus on the same few players every game—the ones whose parents are the most vocal and active in the booster club, of course.”

“Now, Earl, that’s not fair,” Heidi complained. “My Davey plays a lot, but it certainly isn’t because his father and I are so active in the booster club.”

Earl gave Nic a look that seemed to say, See what I mean?

Deciding discretion was called for, Nic said, “There’s room on a winning team for a lot of talented players.”

“So you know football?” Earl asked with interest. “Who’s your favorite pro team?”

“Kansas City,” she replied promptly.

Ernie gave a derisive hoot, leading to a spirited debate about pro football that morphed into a discussion of college teams and the much-maligned bowl-series system. The conversation was periodically interrupted when they all jumped to their feet to cheer on a good play by the Cardinals, in which Nic enthusiastically participated. By halftime, she and the Watson twins were great pals, much to Joel’s apparent amusement.

“Not many women know football as well as you do,” Earl told her, jerking a thumb toward the pleasantly plump woman at his other side. “Cassie would rather be hitting the flea markets and antique malls than watching a game.”

His wife nodded her lightly graying brown head decisively to agree with that statement.

“I’ve always liked sports,” Nic replied. “Comes from trying to keep up with my older brother, I guess. I felt as though I had to be as good as he was despite my smaller size.”

“You play any sports now?”

“I’m on a softball team. And I play a little flag football. An occasional game of Ultimate Frisbee.”

Earl looked impressed. “Yeah? So what do you do? You a P.E. teacher or something?”

“I’m a police officer for the Cabot Police Department.”

“You’re a cop? Hey, Ernie, did you hear that? Nic’s a cop.”

Ernie looked as surprised as his twin. Everyone else within hearing distance—most notably Heidi—had also turned to stare at her. As if, Nic thought, she had announced she was a circus geek or something. What was so odd about her being on the force?

“A police officer,” Heidi repeated, twisting almost completely around on her bleacher seat. “I never would have guessed that of you. You’re so…well, little. Isn’t that a detriment in your job? Isn’t it dangerous for you?”

“Not really. I’m well trained—and Cabot is a small town. Not exactly a hotbed of crime.”

“You seem to be forgetting that guy who shot at you with a shotgun last month,” Joel murmured.

His friends’ eyes widened. “A shotgun?” Heidi repeated with a gasp.

Nic gave Joel a chiding look. “It was just loaded with rock salt. And old Mr. Barnett couldn’t hit the side of a barn anyway. He didn’t even come close to peppering me.”

“And you…um, enjoy that work?”

Why did people keep asking her that, as if she would be crazy to admit that she was satisfied with her job? “Yes,” she told Heidi firmly. “I do like it.”

“Oh.” Looking a little flustered now, Heidi glanced toward the football field, where self-consciously proud fathers escorted their shivering, scantily dressed daughters across the patchy grass. Seemingly relieved to seize a new topic, she trilled, “Oh, that brings back memories. I was a homecoming princess our senior year, you know. And Heather was queen—remember, Joel?”

Everyone around them went quiet as Joel murmured, “I remember.”

Of course Heather had been homecoming queen, Nic thought with a sigh. And of course Heidi had brought her up again just as Joel seemed to be relaxing a bit and enjoying the present. She didn’t believe Heidi was being deliberately cruel, simply clinging to the treasured memories of her high school days—but still, the mood changed after she spoke.

Maybe Heidi realized what she had done. Swallowing visibly, she looked at Nic again. “What were homecomings like at your school, Nicole? Did you participate?”

Nic shrugged. “I was never a homecoming princess, if that’s what you’re asking. I was always too much of a tomboy to be interested in fancy dresses and tiaras.”

And, no, she hadn’t been a cheerleader. Nor had she attended college or earned a doctorate degree or become a family counselor. She had never been a striking beauty and she doubted sincerely that her classmates thought of her as perfection personified.

She rather pitied any woman who aspired to be the next Mrs. Joel Brannon. Who could possibly compete with the memory of Saint Heather?

Whether Joel sensed her discomfort or was struggling with similar feelings of his own, he quickly turned the subject back to one that made her more comfortable—sports. Nic was pleased when the Watson brothers eagerly cooperated.

Letting Heidi and the other wives talk about homecoming fashions, Nic threw herself into the conversation about football and the upcoming basketball season. She was much more comfortable talking with the guys, she assured herself. After all, she had always considered herself one of them.

Joel wondered what he had been thinking when he’d asked Nic to accompany him to his reunion. He’d been so concerned about his own dread of the event that he hadn’t given enough consideration to how awkward it would be for Nic.

He’d thought that making it clear they were only friends would take some of the pressure off her while still sending a message that he had a good life now. A full life, not a sad and lonely one.

He had imagined there would be some questions about Nic and him. After all, they were both single, and she was pretty and personable. Fascinating, actually, with her straightforward manner and her spunky individuality.

Some of his old friends probably thought he was crazy for not making a move on her. Or perhaps they thought he was still too tied up in his grief to consider being with another woman.

He wondered if they would understand if he told them that his reasons for keeping a safe distance between himself and Nic were more complicated than that. After all, she had been involved with someone else when they’d met, so they became friends without considering anything more at first. And now that friendship meant so much to him that he couldn’t imagine doing anything to potentially mess it up.

Besides, judging from her last boyfriend, he was hardly her type. He was downright dull compared to party-guy Brad. Settled, routine-bound, unadventurous—the very opposite of skydiving, bull-riding, extreme-sports-loving Brad.

And now he had subjected her to this—the scrutiny of his old friends, strangers to her, and his family, all of whom seemed compelled to treat her like some sort of oddity. Because she was so refreshingly different? Or simply because she was with him?

During the third quarter she decided she wanted a soft drink from the concessions stand. Joel immediately offered to get it for her, but she declined, telling him she needed to stretch her legs.

“She’s something else, Joel,” Ernie confided when Nic was gone. “How’d you meet a cute cop, anyway?”

“She lives next door to me in Cabot,” Joel reminded him. “We’re neighbors and friends. She needed a break from work and I wanted company for the trip here, so she agreed to come along with me.”

“So there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” Earl inquired.

Aware of several pairs of ears listening for the answer to that question, Joel forced a smile. “We’re friends,” he repeated. “Good friends, obviously, since she was willing to accompany me to a high school reunion.”

“So there’s nothing…uh…?”

“Friends,” Joel said firmly.

“Of course they’re just friends,” Heidi said with a wave of one red-tipped hand. “I could see that right away. Nicole is a lovely girl but hardly Joel’s type.”

Joel felt his eyebrows rise, but he bit back the obvious question. He really didn’t want to get into one of those discussions with Heidi this evening.

As fond as he was of Heidi, she had a bad habit of thinking she knew what was best for everyone else. She’d told him once that she’d always fantasized about having a syndicated advice column because she thought she was pretty good at solving other people’s problems. She just had a talent, she had added with no attempt at modesty.

She had contented herself with running his father’s orthodontia business—and the personal lives of everyone else who worked there—serving as perpetual president of the local PTA, chairing half a dozen committees for church and social organizations and organizing periodic reunions of her high school class. Her friends tolerated her for the most part, understanding that a kind heart and good intentions lay behind her bossiness. A few people disliked her and avoided her as much as possible.

Joel liked her well enough but was secretly glad he lived in another state.

Even knowing better than to get into a debate with Heidi, he was tempted to ask exactly why she seemed so adamant that he and Nic were mismatched. Was it only because Nic was so very different than Heather? And did Heidi really believe he would look for someone exactly like Heather if he were to consider marrying again?

Nic dropped onto the bench beside him, offering him one of the two sodas she’d brought with her, and then set a bag of popcorn between them to share. Considering the timing of her appearance, Joel wondered if she had overheard Heidi’s comment. If she had, he couldn’t tell from her expression, which revealed nothing of her thoughts as she tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and turned her attention to the game again.

For some reason, Joel had to pretty much force his own gaze away from Nic’s face. He assured himself that the fact that he found her much more interesting than the game wasn’t particularly significant—despite what any of his friends might think.

The Danston Cardinals won by a field goal. After cheering until they were hoarse, the home crowd began to move toward the exits. To keep from losing each other in the stampede, Joel and Nic held hands on their way out of the stadium. Their progress was slow, especially since people kept stopping Joel to chat with him. Nic moved along patiently beside him, buoyed by the good spirits of the home team supporters.

She had spotted the security officers on-site, of course. She had worked sporting events herself on plenty of occasions. Yet there was no officer visible when she noticed a group of perhaps ten boys, roughly half wearing Cardinals red, the others in Pirates black and purple, all squaring off in a shadowy corner of the lot. She drew her hand out of Joel’s loose grip.

“Great,” she murmured in resignation just as one boy took a swing at another.

It was strictly instinct that had her running forward, right into the path of a swinging fist.

Dodging the punch with the skill of experience, Nic grabbed the most aggressive boy by the collar and jerked him backward. “Break it up!” she shouted, throwing up a hand to hold off another would-be fighter. “Now!”

The boy she was detaining surged forward when one of the others jeered at him for being collared by a “little lady.” A moment later Nic had his arm twisted behind him. The furious teenager winced when she pushed upward, making it very clear that what was merely discomfort now could easily become real pain.

“Keep fighting me and you’re going to be eating asphalt,” she advised him loudly enough to be heard over the din. She jerked upward on his arm again to punctuate the threat.

He stilled reluctantly, and by that time several other people had arrived to help break up the fight, including Joel, the Watson twins and a uniformed officer. After some stern warnings, the boys were sent on their separate ways.

Instinctively recognizing another cop, the officer chatted with Nic for a few minutes, and then Nic turned to Joel to let him know she was ready to go. Once again she was all too aware of being the center of his former classmates’ attention.

She suppressed a wince as she realized how she must have looked charging into a fight and grabbing hold of a snarling teenager. She doubted very much that Heather would have reacted to the situation that way. More likely the beloved psychologist would have encouraged the boys to sit down and talk out their problems.

“Whoa, Joel,” Earl teased. “You better not mess with this one. I think she could take you.”

Joel didn’t seem to mind the ribbing. Instead he merely laughed and said, “I have no doubt that she could. That’s why I never argue with her.”

Nic gave a little snort of disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

Still smiling, he motioned toward his father’s car. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Joel,” Heidi called after them. “Oh, and, um, you, too, Nicole.”

“She could hardly contain her enthusiasm,” Nic murmured beneath her breath.

“What was that?” Joel asked as he started the car.

She snapped her seat belt and gave him an artificially bright smile. “Nothing. Great game, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s always nice when our team wins the homecoming game.”

“Sorry if I embarrassed you by breaking up that fight. Habit kicked in, I guess.”

“You didn’t embarrass me.” He seemed surprised that she had suggested it. “I just wish I had reacted as quickly as you did. I didn’t even realize what was going on until you were already in the middle of it.”

“I’ve worked enough ball games to know when a fight’s starting.”

“You handled that tall guy easily enough. Don’t you ever worry that your smaller size will put you at a disadvantage?”

“I’ve learned to use it to my benefit. You know what they say—small but wiry. Besides, the guy was tall but skinny beneath those baggy clothes. I doubt he outweighed me by much.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll put Earl’s theory to the test anytime soon.”

“Earl’s theory?”

“That you could take me down. He’s probably right.”

Most men seemed to have a problem with the idea of being bested in a physical confrontation by a woman. Brad, for one, had always had a need to prove himself around Nic, challenging her to foot and bike races and other endurance tests. Even friendly games of pool and darts had become fierce competitions when the two of them had gone head-to-head.

It was almost as if the subtext had been, You might be a trained officer of the law, but I’m the real man in the relationship. Nic had gotten the message, but she hadn’t backed down—and in some ways, Brad had respected that. Until he’d gotten tired of it, of course, and gone looking for someone with whom he didn’t have to work quite so hard at maintaining his ego.

If Joel harbored any similar feelings of threatened masculinity, he hid them very well. He cheerfully admitted that he was no fighter and that his idea of extreme sports was a rousing game of racquetball in the local gym. He had no problems being friends with a woman who could hold her own in a physical contest—but she didn’t know how he would feel about being in a romantic relationship with a woman like her.

As far as she knew, he’d had only a few dates during the time she had known him, usually when he had needed a companion for some social function he had been expected to attend in his position as one of Cabot’s prominent professionals. His choices had been fairly predictable, as far as Nic was concerned. A pretty kindergarten teacher who’d once been a Miss Arkansas runner-up. An attractive divorcée who owned a successful travel agency. A veterinarian from nearby Searcy that he had met through mutual friends.

If there had been any second dates with any of them, Nic wasn’t aware of it. She had always believed—and Aislinn concurred—that Joel had deliberately refrained from leading any woman on to believe he was interested in more than a pleasant evening of companionship. The more she learned about his late wife, the more she could understand how difficult it was for him to find anyone who measured up to her.

Vaguely depressed—or maybe she was just tired—she leaned back in the plush seat of Dr. Lou Brannon’s sedan and pretended to listen to the music streaming from the stereo speakers.