Game On (Entwined Hearts), Page 2

  Angela felt her face burn, the reprimand taking hold. “Okay. I understand.”

  Mary-Ann nodded her approval. “Now, about Hunter. He cleaned himself up, did a good job turning his life around. He moved to Harrisburg, like you said, and got a degree, decided he wanted to be on the other side of the desk. Got his teaching credentials, worked in Harrisburg for a bit. He came back home when Henry started having problems, and lucked into a job at the college.” Mary-Ann gave her a wide grin. “You got enough to think about now?”

  “More than.” Angela took another slug of coffee, her mind spinning.

  It didn’t take much to draw her into the memory well, back to her first true love.

  Soft butterfly kisses, love notes tucked into her locker, making her blush when she read them in the hallway. Stolen moments under the bleachers, gentle caresses while sitting next to each other in class when the teacher wasn’t looking.

  Her mother reached over and touched her arm. “You’ve had a bad day, to put it lightly. Let’s get you upstairs for a hot shower and then to bed. A good night’s sleep will set you right, and tomorrow we’ll figure out what you want to do. What you need to do.”

  Angela slumped in the chair as the strain of the last few hours caught up with her. “Thanks, Mom. It’s always good to come home.”

  “You’re better than this.” Hunter Stratham pushed the sheet across his desk. “I know you are.” He pointed at the grades. “According to Professor Magee, you’re barely hanging on in English Lit. She’ll have to flunk you if you don’t get it in gear and do it fast.”

  The young man rolled his shoulders and glanced out the window. “I do my best. Not my fault.”

  “Crap.” Hunter leaned forward. “You want to keep playing basketball? You want a chance to go pro, go to the NBA? Because with marks like this, you’re not going anywhere other than back home with your tail between your legs. Might as well start looking for a job delivering pizzas, because you’re not going to be playing ball here.”

  Jessie Winslow scowled. “I got the skills to go all the way. You know I do.”

  “I know you do. But you know I don’t stand for my players keeping a low grade-point average.”

  “I’m not good at English.”

  “Then you get good.” Hunter grabbed a pen and scribbled a name on his notepad before tearing it off. “You call her. She’s a good tutor, one of the best. Tell her I sent you over.”

  The college student stared at the paper. “I don’t need a tutor.”

  “You don’t need to be benched for the next two weeks.”

  “You”—Jessie coughed out the words—“you can’t do that. I’ve got to be out there.”

  “And you will be, if you show me you’re doing your best. Call the tutor and set up a schedule.” Hunter paused. “You bring me your next test with no less than a B, and you keep playing. Otherwise, be ready to start warming the bench.”

  The player stood up, shaking his head. “You run a hard deal, Coach.”

  “Only because I know you’ve got it in you to do better.”

  Jessie tucked the piece of paper with the tutor’s number on it in his pocket. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just remember me when you get up for that big award.” Hunter winked at the young man. “Now, get the hell out. I’ve got work to do.”

  A few seconds after Winslow left, Sally Adams stuck her head in. “That’s all your morning appointments done with.” She grinned. “Sounded sort of intense.”

  Hunter rocked back in his chair. “Jessie graduated high school with high marks and knows he’s got the smarts and the talent to go all the way. But he’s too used to getting away with anything he wants because he can sink a shot from halfway across the court. So what’s next on the agenda?”

  “Paperwork. Summer class schedules.” She chuckled at seeing his downcast expression. “And a bit of gossip, if you’re up to it. Darned juicy stuff, if you ask me.”

  “Gossip?” Hunter shook his head. “You know I don’t usually go in for that.”

  Sally leaned on the doorframe and inspected her nails. “If you’re not interested—”

  He motioned her on. “Okay. Lay it on me.”

  “Word is, Angela Kenzie’s back in town. Drove in last night from Philly.”

  Hunter tried to sound as casual as he could, fighting back the urge to jump to his feet. “Oh. Any idea why?”

  “According to what Mary-Ann told Denise at the grocery store last night while picking up ingredients for her mac ’n’ cheese, Angela got snookered by the fellow she was engaged to. Dropped her off the wall, and she came back home to get her head on straight. Mary-Ann always had suspicions about the man—he never called but the one time, and only because Angela insisted they tell her about the engagement. So when Angela called and said he’d been stepping out on her, Mary-Ann felt justified in not feeling right about the jerk. But she’s not going to say so, not when her only daughter is coming on home heartbroken and all.” She eyed Hunter. “Figured you might be interested, considering the two of you were a couple and all.”

  And all.

  Hunter took one of the pencils from his coffee cup and tapped it on the desk, keeping the same pace as his racing heart. “You know we were the talk of the town for the last year of high school. Did the smoking and drinking, and my dad said it was all a phase, getting it all out of my system before settling down and growing up. Then I started seeing Angela in tenth grade, and everyone wondered what she saw in me. Good girl, top student, hanging out with the bad boy. It was a cliché, but we didn’t know or care.” He shook his head. “Never knew why she accepted that first date and kept on seeing me.”

  “She saw a good man finding his way. End result is, you kept your grades up and turned out okay, and so did she.” She retreated to the doorway. “Anyway, she’s back home if you’re interested in finding out what old flames do when they meet again.” A sly wink, and the secretary stepped out of sight.

  Ignite.

  Combust.

  Incinerate.

  Hunter risked a glance at the clock.

  Ten minutes to twelve.

  He stood up and snagged the light jacket from the back of his chair. “Sally, I’m headed out for lunch. See you later.”

  He didn’t wait for a response as he headed for his car.

  Angela’s back in town, and she’s got to be hurting.

  I have to see her.

  Angela knew it was way past morning, and she didn’t care.

  Her bedroom was a time capsule, preserving both her high-school past and her college years in stasis. Stuffed animals from her childhood on the dresser, Penn State banners on the walls. Old CDs in the rack, and a twelfth-grade spelling bee trophy guarding some spare change.

  Everything was pretty well the same as the last time she’d visited.

  Just before heading off to Philadelphia for her promising law career.

  Just before Eric.

  She’d sent off a brief text last night, telling the firm she was sick and taking a few days off, before finally giving in to the need for sleep.

  It wasn’t a total lie.

  The smell of coffee crept up the stairs and enticed her to pull open the thick down comforter she’d bundled around her like armor.

  The digital clock on her side table read 12:14 P.M.

  Half the day gone, and I don’t care.

  A week ago, she would have been dashing around her office, dealing with the paperwork of a dozen little cases, making her brand known to the partners. They’d been impressed with her right out of university and had offered her a junior position. She’d thought it was because she was at the top of her class and eager, hungry to get to work changing the world.

  Now she wondered if it was because Eric had had his eye on her all along.

  “You’ve got a visitor.” Her mother appeared in the doorway, cradling a fresh cup of coffee. She wore her usual flowery blouse and jeans, looking refreshed and ready to go. Her long bl
ond hair was pulled into a tight bun.

  “A what?” Angela stared at her.

  “A visitor. And it’s about time you got your ass out of bed. You can be whiny and upset, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to spend the entire day up here.” She placed the coffee on one of the bookshelves. “When you’re ready. I’ll be entertaining your visitor while you get your act together and come downstairs. He’s on his lunch break, so don’t take too long.”

  Grace spun and walked out of sight.

  Angela eyed the thick ceramic mug and did the logic run.

  I have to get out of bed to get the coffee.

  If I get out of bed to get the coffee, I might as well get up.

  If I get up, I might as well get dressed.

  If I get dressed—

  She sighed and flipped back the blanket.

  Coffee better be damned good.

  Chapter Two

  It took five minutes for Angela to be awake enough to go down the stairs, holding the now-empty mug in front of her like a shield. She hadn’t bothered to worry about what to wear, grabbing the first thing out of her suitcase and pulling it on. The old well-worn Penn State T-shirt and gray track pants would be more than enough for her mystery visitor.

  Who the hell would come to see me?

  Who even knows I’m in town?

  Jake? But what would he—?

  She stopped worrying as she saw the man seated at the table with her mother, chatting away as he worked on a piece of peach pie. For a second, she watched him, enjoying the pleasurable memories rushing up into her mind.

  Hunter.

  He sat at the table, looking more respectable than she’d ever seen him. The white dress shirt was tight across his shoulders, revealing way more than it hid. The top button was undone, and a stark black tie hung loose around his neck, tempting her to give it a playful tug.

  Must be at least seven . . . eight years?

  She’d last seen him at graduation. During the ceremony, Hunter proudly pulled up his robe to flash the other students with fluorescent shorts. At the party afterward, in private, he’d discarded them along with the rest of his clothing one last time.

  Angela bit on her lower lip at the sight of his black hair, a bit scruffier and longer than the norm. Dancing on the edge of acceptable, not so different from high school.

  She loved it at that length.

  Just enough to grab and hold tight, dig her fingers into it, twist.

  Damn. Still delicious after all these years.

  Her mother looked up and spotted her in the doorway. “’Bout time you got your raggedy ass down here.” Mary-Ann rose from the table and plucked the cup from Angela’s hands. “I’ll get you a refill and a piece of pie. Sit and be sociable.” Without waiting for a reply, she strutted off to the counter.

  Hunter laughed as Angela took the chair across the table from him. “Your mother is still a force of nature. As soon as I showed up at the door, she ordered me to sit down so she could feed me.”

  “Tell me about it.” She cleared her throat. “How did you know I was here?”

  He cocked his head to one side and gave her the sideway glance she knew all too well. “I have my sources.”

  Angela felt her pulse speed up as she remembered what else used to accompany that gesture.

  Curled up around each other under the blankets in his tree house, reading to each other as we worked on our English assignment. At least until one of us gave up and gave in to our desire . . .

  A warm flush ran along her skin at the memory.

  Mary-Ann placed a slab of pie in front of Angela, breaking her reverie. “That’ll make up for you skipping breakfast.”

  Angela stared at the mega-size piece. “And dinner and breakfast and lunch tomorrow as well.”

  Mary-Ann snorted. “Don’t be a smart-ass.” She picked up her mug of coffee and walked to the sink. “I’ve got to go to the grocery store. I’ll see you later, Hunter. Best to your dad.”

  He waved as she left the kitchen. A few minutes later, Angela heard the car start up. The sound of the old station wagon’s distinctive engine diminished as her mother pulled out of the garage and onto the street.

  Angela ate a bite of pie. “How is your father? Mom mentioned he was having some health problems.”

  Hunter didn’t respond right away, and she saw the pain in his deep blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she started, “I didn’t mean to—”

  He raised a hand, silencing her. “Early-onset Alzheimer’s. He’s in St. Thomas’s Rest Home. I had to put him in there three months ago.” He gave a noncommittal shrug. “They do what they can for him, but—”

  “I’m sorry.” The words sounded weak.

  “Me, too.” He smiled. “He remembers you at times. Asks what you’re doing.”

  “What do you tell him?”

  “You’re saving the world in Philly. He likes it.”

  “Good.” She shuffled the thick peach slices around on her plate, not sure what to say.

  “I heard you were engaged.”

  Angela nodded. “‘Were’ being the important word. He didn’t want a wife as much as he wanted a façade to hide his exploits.” She sighed. “I got taken in by his game. Should have known better. But I’m done with him now.” She slashed the air with her hand. “Done.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She frowned. “What are you sorry for?”

  “I’m sorry I’ll be in jail for the rest of my life after I kill him,” Hunter deadpanned.

  She couldn’t help laughing. “I think I’m okay with you letting Eric live.” The name felt awful in her mouth. “He’s the loser in this deal. Not me.”

  “Hell yeah.” He smiled once more, and she felt some of the weight lift from her chest at the familiar expression. It’d been one of their catchphrases through high school, shouted every chance they got.

  Hunter looked at his watch. “Damn. I’ve got to get back to work, get ready for team practice. I wanted to drop in and say hello, see how you were doing.” He stood up and put his Windbreaker on, festooned with the college colors and the mascot, the Glen Barrow Badger. “I’m glad I did.”

  She rose and crossed her arms, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m a little messed up, but I’ll be okay.” Angela brushed an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. “Caught me off guard. Cut me deep, but I’ll survive.”

  “Hell yeah,” he repeated. “Hell yeah.” He took a step toward her and paused.

  Angela saw the confusion in his eyes, the trepidation. “I’m not made of glass.” She opened her arms to him. “Please.” Her voice cracked on the single word.

  Please.

  Hunter almost ran to her, crossing the few feet between them in an instant. He pulled her close, his arms curling around her, his strength holding her up in her time of need. His familiar scent filled her nose, taking her back to a less complicated time and place.

  A minute later, Angela drew back, releasing him with a loud sigh. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “No problem on my part. I know you’re in a bad place right now, but I’m here if you need to talk to someone who’s not your mother.” He winked. “Or anything else you’d like to do. Like, say—with the rest of that pie.”

  Angela gave him a weak punch to the chest. “Pervert.”

  “Me? I’m not the one who kissed the top cheerleader on a dare.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “And I know you liked it.” Hunter gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger.” He pulled back and paused, staring at her.

  She made the first move.

  Angela kissed him hard, purging all the sadness from her soul.

  Hunter let out something akin to a groan, finally sliding free to drop small butterfly kisses along her jawline, ending with a nip on her earlobe.

  “Hell yeah,” Hunter whispered as he released her. He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m here for you. Take some time for yourself. I’ll see you around.”r />
  He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her alone.

  Angela rolled her head back and studied the ceiling.

  That was—

  Uncomfortable.

  Interesting.

  Exhausting.

  She mentally marked D: All of the above and went to refill her coffee.

  Angela recalled their tearful good-bye, years ago.

  Unlike many of their peers, who had screaming, vicious fights not long after graduation, the two of them chose different paths. That was all there was to it.

  Now she was back and he was available. Her mother would have warned her off if he were in a relationship.

  But—

  Angela sat again at the table and picked at the delicious slices of peaches, the thick syrup spreading all over the plate.

  Get serious, woman. You’re not ready for this.

  She was in no shape to make any sort of judgment on whether reviving her relationship with Hunter Stratham was a good idea or not.

  Angela cut into the crisp piecrust with her fork.

  At least she knew where she stood with the pie.

  Jake was at the grocery store, picking up more half-and-half for the break room at the police station, when he spotted Mary-Ann Kenzie. His relationship with Angela’s mother hadn’t been the best back when they were dating, but they’d settled into a comfortable détente when Jake arrived to take over as chief.

  If she’s here, Angela’s alone.

  A good time to visit.

  He headed for the express checkout counter, noting that Mary-Ann was busy chatting to another woman in line, two customers away from paying for her groceries.

  There were advantages to being a policeman.

  Least of which was being allowed to speed and ignore traffic lights if necessary for a good cause.

  And checking in on Angela qualified as a good cause.

  He found her sitting on the porch, bundled up in an ancient afghan crocheted by her grandmother. Its deep autumn colors had decorated her bed back at Penn State, and he wasn’t surprised to find it here and on her.