Too Close to Call: A Romancing the Clarksons Novella, Page 3

  By a certain someone, he meant the beautiful, skittish animal lover who’d evaded him this afternoon. Not before they’d traded words, though. Memories. He thought he’d missed Bree for ten thousand reasons, but after seeing her again today, that number seemed like an underestimation. No one spoke, moved, smiled, smelled like her. Each of her little qualities had remained buried beneath his skin. And today his need for all those unique parts of Bree had swelled to the surface, just having her close.

  Lord. His muscles were still in knots. Not getting right up into Bree’s space and stating his intentions to win her back had been the hardest challenge of his life. He’d had no choice, though, had he?

  Here was the thing. Bree Justice hated surprises.

  Sophomore year of high school, Kyler had organized their classmates into singing happy birthday to Bree on her sixteenth birthday when she walked into the cafeteria. They’d taken it to the next level by serenading her on tabletops and throwing makeshift confetti fashioned out of notebook paper.

  She’d promptly dropped her tray and gone to hide in the ladies’ bathroom.

  One would think Kyler had learned from that first incident, but no. Later that year, he’d asked her to homecoming during halftime of a game, climbing into the stands and getting down on one knee, still decked out in his football gear.

  See, while Bree hated public interest, Kyler loved it when Bree was the main attraction. Even when she tried and failed to give him the silent treatment afterward, Kyler felt it was worth the advantage of making sure everyone knew she was special. And his.

  In high school, riling Bree up and coaxing her away from her anger had been fun. Like flirting. Later on…foreplay. Yeah, they’d been real big on foreplay.

  Kyler dropped his head back against the driver’s seat and groaned, memories of Bree flooding in from all sides. Grappling hands, straining thighs, and gritted teeth. Challenging each other was their national pastime and they’d never missed an opportunity, whether it was over chess, getting the highest grade on a test…or seeing who could go the longest without a kiss.

  Her competitive nature, coupled with the way she always seemed to slide from his grip right when he got comfortable, had always been an aphrodisiac to the athlete inside of him. A call to battle. Well, not a damn thing had changed in that regard. Just like when they were teenagers, Kyler was restless and heart-heavy and yes, horny beyond belief, thanks to having Bree mere inches away that afternoon.

  The younger man he’d once been wouldn’t have wasted a single second pretending to want only friendship from Bree. He’d have cut right to the chase, explaining he wouldn’t go to Los Angeles without her. Would. Not.

  But they weren’t in high school now. Futures were on the line. The happiness he’d been attempting since leaving for college was all a sham without her beside him. So he would finally take what he knew about the love of his life…and apply it. Going against his very nature, Kyler would play the long game. One foot in front of the other, nice and easy. Right now, Bree was spooked simply having him in Bloomfield. If he came on too strong, she’d go hide in the ladies’ bathroom—and he’d have a much more complicated obstacle course to complete.

  Some surprises were in order, however, or Kyler would never get his chance to win back Bree. Which meant he’d be chaperoning a church dance tonight.

  Kyler shut off the ignition and climbed out of his truck, snatching up the bouquet of sunflowers he’d bought at the last minute. Striding up the cobblestone walkway, he marveled over how the church seemed to shrink a little more every time he came home for a visit from Cincinnati. Music drifted on the summer wind as he skirted around back to the rear entrance. A minute later, he walked into the gym. It looked half the size of the one in his memory, but he still had to pause in the doorway, held there by the rush of the past.

  Refreshment table to the right. Bleachers to the left. Dancing in the middle. DJ booth in the corner. Nothing had changed except the faces.

  Through the darkness, there was one feminine figure sitting in the bleachers he would recognize ten lifetimes from now, her right leg jiggling to the beat. Seeing Bree with her hair loose, an amused smile on her face, Kyler’s arm lost power, the bouquet slapping down against his thigh. As if she’d heard the smack of paper on denim, Bree’s head turned, back straightening.

  Good thing he stood between her and the exit.

  Holding up his free hand in a conciliatory gesture, Kyler approached Bree where she sat quivering in the bleachers. In his wake, exclamations went off like little explosions; eyes bugged out. Kids stopped dancing. It was unfortunate he couldn’t walk into a room in Bloomfield without making a scene, but he’d learned that if he acted casual, most people would follow suit. And keeping his focus locked on Bree wasn’t difficult. Not in the least. Not when she was wearing a white summer dress. Not when he could remember her sitting in those same bleachers years earlier, tucked into his side.

  “Evening, Bree.”

  “Ky,” she returned with a suspicious look. “This sure is a coincidence.”

  “Isn’t it?” Keeping his features schooled, he tipped his head in the direction of the dance floor. “My cousin’s wife’s nephew is out there. When I heard he’d be in attendance, I just had to volunteer my services, same as you. Keeping the next generation honest is a team effort.”

  “Uh-huh.” Humor sparked in her eyes. “How many cousins did you call before finding a connection?”

  “Just one.” Her skeptical eyebrow lift made his lips twitch. “It’s more of a phone tree situation.”

  “Is it now?” She sized him up with a glance. “First night in town and you’re skipping out on your mama’s dinner. She can’t be happy about it.”

  He conceded her point with a nod. “You reckon I should save these flowers for her?”

  “If you brought them for me?” Her chin lifted, hands folding over one knee. “Yes, give them to Mama instead.”

  “They’re for your sister.”

  As he’d known it would, the fight fled her in a giant wave. Tension deserted every line of her sexy body, leaving her pliant against the bleacher step behind her. A visual reminder of how Kyler used to rob her of tension in a very different way. God, she looked hot. Even while pouting. “Aw, why’d you have to go and do that?”

  Kyler sat down on the creaky wooden step beside her. “You’re glad I did.”

  “I know. You don’t have to point it out.” Chewing her lip, she cut a glance at the dance floor. “I was sitting here trying to decide something.”

  “Lay it on me, supergirl.”

  Her lips parted at the nickname he’d bestowed on her years ago. After her mother left, Bree had assumed so much responsibility, playing mom to Kira, helping her father run the family business and never once letting her grades suffer. The first time he’d called her supergirl, she’d sobbed for an hour in his arms, showing Kyler how much the added responsibility had taken a toll. How hard it had been to face every day, no matter how difficult. Afterward, she’d tearfully asked him if he still thought the nickname fit. Fits even better now, he’d said.

  It took Bree a few seconds to continue, but she didn’t ask Kyler not to call her supergirl anymore. So he considered it a victory. “Kira’s date didn’t bring her flowers tonight. Didn’t even come to the door. Have boys changed so much in four years or…” Something seemed to dawn on her. “You know what? Never mind.”

  A laugh worked its way up from Kyler’s chest. “You were asking yourself if boys have changed or if they were always useless. And maybe I just happened to be the exception.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” The metal was back in her spine, lips pursed together in a way that drove him crazy. “Actually, I was wondering if being a big college star would give you an ego. You just answered my question.”

  “Liar.” He winked to soften the accusation. “And you were the exception. Not the other way around. That’s why I brought flowers and shook your daddy’s hand at the door. I knew
there’d never be another Bree Justice.”

  Damn. Now maybe he shouldn’t have said that, seeing as how his strategy was to play the long game. He’d never been much good at keeping the truth to himself, though. Bree stared over at him from beneath her eyelashes, that pulse he used to kiss every chance he got fluttering at the base on her neck. “W-well, maybe there were no other Brees.” She nudged him with her elbow, but the effort was half-hearted at best. “But I bet there’s been gaggles of Mindys and Beckys and Crystals over the last four years, am I right?”

  His throat ached with the sudden need to shout. If she only knew how wrong she was. When he’d first arrived in Cincinnati, he’d been so damn angry and hurt that he’d wanted to accept every single proposition that came his way. Women flocked to college football players like bees to honey—and once he’d been named an All-American, the whispered invitations had been inescapable. Constant and blatant. A few times, he’d even gotten as far as saying yes. Right before growing sick to his stomach and canceling at the last minute.

  Truth was, he hadn’t been with a woman since prom night with Bree.

  The night she’d shattered him.

  If he told her the truth now, there would be no chance of getting those broken pieces back together, though. Best to evade and clear up any misunderstandings later.

  “Sure, you know how it is,” Kyler managed around the golf ball in his throat. “No one special, though.”

  Her expression didn’t change. If possible, it turned to stone. But when she went back to observing the dance floor, Kyler saw that her fingers were clutched together in her lap. “Yeah, I know how it is.”

  Wrong. It didn’t matter how it is or how the athlete-groupie lifestyle operated. It didn’t operate him. And if there was a hope in hell of him convincing Bree to build a future with a professional football player, she needed to have no doubt about that. About him.

  And he would convince her. He would. But now was not the time to freak her out.

  Stay the course, Tate.

  “What about you?” He already knew the answer—he grilled his mother about Bree during their weekly phone calls—so he forced himself to relax. “Anyone…special?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been so busy.” Her voice sounded unnatural and his heart lurched in response. “I-I mean, there is one guy—”

  “Come again?”

  It occurred to Kyler in a blinding flash that his mother might have been trying to guard his feelings by assuring him every week that Bree remained single. And good God almighty, the very possibility gave him the urge to throw up. Then maybe go for a casual rampage through Bloomfield, overturning cars and uprooting trees.

  Totally normal, right?

  “I don’t get calls out in Hashtown very often, but their local vet fell ill a few months back, so I traveled out that way. A sick mare. Beautiful creature.” She rubbed her palms against her knees, her voice back to normal, totally oblivious to Kyler’s mounting agony. “The farm’s horse trainer hung out while I worked. He’s the one who asked me out, but I said no. I flat out didn’t have time. But he must have convinced his boss I was the better doctor because I get called out there for all manner of animal injuries and sicknesses now.”

  “And this fella keeps asking you out.”

  “Right.”

  “But you’ve been saying no.”

  “That’s the gist of it.”

  Feeling like he’d been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, Kyler shot to his feet. “I don’t like it, Bree Caroline.”

  Bree rose slowly and crossed her arms. “Don’t you dare use my middle name, Kyler Joseph Tate.”

  “Kyler Tate! Is that you?”

  They both turned thunderous stares on the interrupter.

  Clearly undeterred, Kira Justice launched herself into Kyler’s arms anyway.

  Chapter Four

  Bree wasn’t prepared for seeing her little sister hugging Kyler.

  In those early days, when Kyler had just left for Cincinnati, Bree lived with tunnel vision. Getting from one day to the next without a crying jag, throwing herself into learning her father’s trade so she couldn’t revel in missing him. On more than one occasion, being without him had gotten so unbearable, she’d considered boarding a train to the university to go get him back. Only the staunch belief she was doing the right thing for her family kept Bree putting one foot in front of the other.

  For all the time and effort she put into supporting her family, however, she hadn’t taken the time to consider how her sister had been impacted by the sudden lack of Kyler’s presence in their lives. Clearly, Bree hadn’t been the only one missing the star receiver after he left for college. No, it appeared Kira was still feeling the giant hole he’d left behind. Bree wasn’t, though. Not after four years.

  Certainly not.

  Bree swallowed the bitterness on her tongue and focused on her sister and Kyler. It was a well-known fact that teenagers could be irreverent jerks on occasion, and Kira was smack dab in the midst of the classic know-it-all phase. When her face wasn’t buried in her iPhone, it was complaining, being critical, and rolling her eyes. In between, though, the amazing woman Kira would be someday soon shone through the cracks. Just like Bree, Kira was a wizard in the classroom. Ambitious. Unlike her big sister, however, Kira loved the spotlight.

  She certainly had it now. The dance had ground to a halt, and phones were up and filming the reunion. But for once, Bree’s little sister seemed completely unaware of the envious attention she’d drawn. No, every ounce of her focus was fastened on Kyler. Tears made her eyes shine, one rolling free when Kyler whirled her in a circle.

  “I thought it was just a rumor you were in town,” Kira said, swiping away her running mascara. “And I told everyone it wasn’t true. If you were in Bloomfield, my sister would be finding reasons to stay home.”

  Heat blasted Bree’s face, but because avoidance was her best friend, she feigned deafness, picking at an imaginary thread on her dress. More cameras were being lifted, the pinhole sized lights sending Bree stepping back, out of the frames.

  Kyler caught the move and frowned, but thankfully didn’t join her sister in humiliating her. “How’ve you been, sweetheart? You been staying out of trouble?”

  “Most of the time.” Kira gave an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes. “Me and Daddy saw you on the television. Drafted to the NFL. I can’t believe it.” Her eyebrows drew together. “What happened when you were climbing the stage, though? You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

  Bree watched curiously as Kyler seemed to search for an answer. She’d thrown herself into work the day of the draft, afraid of what she’d feel seeing Kyler moving on to the next phase of his life. “I’d just realized I’d forgotten to do something important,” Kyler said finally, catching her with a look.

  “Like calling before showing up?” Bree asked, still picking at that thread. “Pretty bad habit you’ve picked up.”

  Kyler let out a big, booming laugh. “Something like that.” He put an arm around Kira’s shoulder and turned her toward their grinning, fascinated audience. “Which one of these lucky Bloomfield men is your date, huh? Point him out.”

  Before Kira could finger the accused, Chuck Brady raised his hand from behind a camera phone, flushing to the roots of his faux-hawk. “That’d be me, sir.”

  Kyler tucked his tongue inside his cheek, stepping back with Kira in tow to size the kid up. “And have you danced with her yet?”

  “Not much of a dancer, sir.” Another boy standing beside Chuck shouted it’s true, earning himself a shove. “I’m better on the football field.”

  Heads were whipping back and forth between Chuck and Kyler. Clearly, that comment had been made in an attempt to impress the town legend. It didn’t work. “Is there a rule that says you can’t do both?”

  Chuck’s friend finally got around to pushing him back. “No, sir.”

  “In fact, I’m not seeing much dancing between dates going on at all,” Kyler said. “Boys on
one side, girls on the other is what it looks like to me.” He sent Bree a slow grin, eliciting dreamy sighs from every female in the gymnasium. “Correct me if I’m wrong, supergirl, but I do believe this calls for a dance off.”

  Equal parts terror and…exhilaration tumbled in Bree’s stomach. Terror because, hello, everyone knew high school students were the scariest individuals alive. Dancing in front of them was the stuff of nightmares. And exhilaration, because, damn, she hadn’t felt her blood pumping, hadn’t experienced that wicked belly twist since the last time she and Kyler were in that very gymnasium together.

  Which sent her spiraling right back into terror because she couldn’t deny anymore that a huge, long ignored place inside of her had missed him. No one had ever succeeded in dragging her out of her comfort zone and making her enjoy it. No one but Kyler freaking Tate.

  Scariest of all, Kyler always made her wish for…more. The way her mother had done before walking out on them, going in search of that elusive something else.

  Bree had balked at his final offer to do just that, though, hadn’t she? Cincinnati. Beyond. So far away from her comfort zone and those she loved—those who needed her—she never would have had the option of climbing back into it. Their plan had been to apply to the same colleges and attend as a unit.

  Only, she’d kept her real plan tucked inside until she couldn’t anymore.

  “You better not be looking over here at me,” Bree called, sitting back down and crossing her legs. “I’m happy right here on the bleachers.”

  “Gentleman, grab your partners. Politely,” Kyler instructed, ignoring her. “Oh, we’re going to find out who has the best moves. Yes, we are, Bree.”

  “No, we’re not,” Bree said. “Not me. No, thank you.” She repeated those words right up until a minute later, when Kyler twirled her into his arms on the dance floor, laughing while she groaned. “How do you always manage to make me cave?”