The First Move Page 21

  “Oohh,” Lisa cooed, “it must be love.”

  A small, pleased smile skimmed Rey’s face. With Sarah concentrating on the draft—and her yearly goal to finish ahead of her father—instead of bristling about Rey and his family joking and laughing, Rey was slipping perfectly into his life. Where Miles wanted to keep her.

  They drew lots. Rey got first pick and she picked the number-one-rated quarterback.

  Since Miles was running the draft, he had to pull his hand away from Rey’s, but it didn’t take two seconds before he missed the sensation of holding her hand. All that good sex, and right now he just wanted to hold her hand.

  “Crap,” Sarah said, reminding him not to think about sex with his daughter in the room.

  “Sarah,” his mom said, “you didn’t really think he’d be left when your turn came up.”

  “I hoped I would get first draw,” Sarah replied.

  “Sarah,” David teased, “you’ll just have to use your skill to beat Miles.”

  “It doesn’t take any skill to beat Dad,” she retorted.

  “Hey!” He’d be insulted, except it was true.

  “So, if I understand the game correctly, Miles and Sarah are the ones who play to win, but Miles never actually wins.” Rey tapped her fingernail against his thigh as she ribbed his fantasy football record.

  “You have the game pegged,” Eric said, traitorous cousin. “We don’t play to win so much as we play to make Miles lose.”

  “I win in my other league,” Miles said, then felt ridiculous for defending his fantasy football prowess. Rey certainly wasn’t interested in him because he won football leagues. It was his turn and he selected his player.

  “I want to play in your other league next year, Dad. I’m sick of losing my players to people who don’t even care about the game. I want to try an auction draft.”

  “Don’t tell your mom what you hear while we’re drafting our players, and I’ll let you play.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but Sarah’s words pleased him. She was growing up, but not away. Maybe she’d still play when she left for college.

  It was his turn again.

  “Dad, why’d you draft him?”

  Because Rey was rubbing small circles on his thigh that burned through his jeans and turned him stupid. By the smile on her face, she knew exactly what she was doing. “Because I’m trying a new strategy this year.”

  Lisa drafted the player he’d actually wanted, but Rey’s fingers were still brushing against his thigh and he didn’t care. He wouldn’t win this year—he never won—but Rey would be spending Sundays and Monday nights with him. When Sarah went back to her mom’s, Rey could even stay over and help ease his sore, losing heart.

  Sarah giggled when Rey drafted Miles’s favorite running back.

  “What?” Rey asked. He stopped her before she could pull her hand away from his leg.

  “You just drafted his favorite player,” Sean said before drafting a tight end.

  “Oh. Sorry, Miles.” She shrugged, a smile dancing on her lips. She wasn’t sorry at all.

  “Don’t even pretend to be sorry.” Sean’s laughter came over the phone loud and clear. “It’s what he gets for not drafting him his first and second time up. If you hadn’t gotten him, I would’ve.”

  “Thank you, both of you, for looking out for my interests.” He got to hold on to Rey’s hand through two more drafts before he had to pick his next player, his second favorite running back. After Sarah drafted her next player, he moved his hand away from the laptop and slid it into Rey’s. She drew circles on his palm and he wished tomorrow wasn’t Sunday, so he could send Sarah home and Rey could stay the night. No, that wasn’t right. He wanted to spend the day with Sarah. He only wished he was married so he could have sex with Rey tonight, even with Sarah in the house.

  There was that idea of marriage again, popping into his head.

  Rey could be the love of his life, even if he’d only known her as an adult for a little over a month. In that short time, he’d learned she was one of the most emotionally solid people he’d ever known, and that her stability wasn’t something gifted to her; Rey fought tooth and nail for it every day. She knew her vulnerabilities and battled them like a medieval knight, up close and personal. Bloodied and wounded, she stood up to fight again. There was bravery there, beneath the insecurities.

  He never wanted to stop being around her, or having the chance to look at her. When she was amused, her left cheek lifted and the corner of her eye wrinkled. If he was lucky, in twenty years, he could lie in bed next to her and wonder if the wrinkles at the corner of her left eye were just a little deeper than the wrinkles at the corner of her right eye.

  He smiled. Marriage would be hard to talk Rey into, even if she was planning on being around next year. If he asked now, she’d only say something about how he’s known her for twenty years, but she didn’t remember him at all. Then she’d make some argument about getting to know each other, and getting to know Sarah. Maybe she’d repeat her argument about abandoning a child. Her eyes would become vacant and she’d pull away from him. She’d do it slowly—probably wouldn’t even know she was withdrawing—until the smell of her coconut shampoo wouldn’t even be lingering in his memory. Better to make it seem like marriage was her idea. Wasn’t there some leap-year tradition about women asking men to marry them on February 29th? He could wait until the next leap year....

  “Dad, stop smiling and draft my player.”

  He jerked his head around to look at his daughter. She had her brows raised and arms crossed. “Which player again?”

  “Are you even paying attention?”

  Eric laughed. “We can tell he’s distracted by his girlfriend all the way here in Columbus.”

  “Thanks, Eric.” Miles sneaked a glance at Sarah’s roster and drafted the player she had listed next. Then he picked his player and let his concentration drift back to Rey.

  The draft continued until they each had their players and defensive units. Miles couldn’t even remember all the players he drafted, though in three weeks he would still remember how a lock of hair escaped from Rey’s bun looked as it curled on her neck.

  “Sarah,” he heard his mom say, “you call me tomorrow and tell me about your dad’s girlfriend.”

  “And then Carol will call me,” Lisa added.

  “I’m right here,” Rey said, laughing.

  “I’ll say nicer things about you if you let me have that quarterback,” Sarah offered.

  “I’m keeping him. I’ll take my chances with Carol.”

  “If I ever see that trade—” Miles focused back on the conversation “—I’m calling foul.”

  “Wait, I’m going to have to trade players, too?” Rey asked.

  “I’ll let you explain all the rules to your new girlfriend,” Eric said. “David and I are signing off.”

  “Lisa and I, as well,” Sean said. “No letting your girlfriend win. In this league, it’s every man for himself—against you.”

  “Good night, everyone,” his mom said. “I’ll see all of you at Thanksgiving. Rey, you’re invited, too.”

  “Good night, Mom,” Miles said.

  “Good night, Grandma,” Sarah echoed.

  The phones clicked off and Miles closed his laptop.

  “It’s getting late,” Rey said, standing and leaving the left side of his body cold and lonely. Wanting a woman to be able to sleep over wasn’t a good enough reason to marry her, but it was the reason his body was
most focused on at the moment.

  Sarah jumped up off the couch. “I’m going up to my room to call Emily.”

  Miles turned to look at his daughter, who earlier in the evening had been trying to throw a wrench in his relationship, but Rey spoke up before he could reveal he’d eavesdropped on their conversation. “And I should go home. Tomorrow will be an exciting, but exhausting, day. I’m not going to sleep, but I can at least lie in my bed and pretend.”

  “We’re going to Rey’s mom’s house for dinner tomorrow,” he told his daughter.

  “Why do I have to go?” And just as quickly, the mean teenager was back.

  “Rey’s invited us to dinner because her daughter will be there.”

  “Oh.” Sarah cocked her head, understanding dawning on her face. “You were here tonight because Dad thought you needed a distraction. Too bad you’re committed through the end of the football season.” Miles was certain evil teen was camping out for the night until Sarah got a wicked gleam in her eye. “If you and Dad break up, can I have your quarterback?”

  “You won’t get him that easily. I’m looking forward to getting points off him.”

  Sarah smiled. “It was worth a try.”

  “I’m going to drive Rey home. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. You’ll probably still be on the phone with Emily.”

  “No. She’s serving at the early Mass and won’t want to be up that late, even to talk to me.”

  “You have a smart friend,” Miles said.

  “Good night, Sarah. I’m glad I got to play with you.”

  “Good night, Rey. Good night, Dad.”

  Miles and Rey left through the kitchen door as Sarah stomped up to her room. He started his car and backed out of his garage. “You and Sarah seemed to get along well.”

  “Are you trying to make me more or less nervous about tomorrow?”

  Ah, of course. He was reading meaning into how well Sarah and Rey got along; while Rey was thinking about meeting her own daughter. “Less, of course. It’s not that I don’t think you have anything to be nervous about, just that I don’t think you can do much about it.”

  “She’ll hate me and I just have to deal with it?”

  “You’re as bad as Sarah.”

  “What?”

  “Ten minutes ago, you were laughing with my mom and cousins over the phone. Now, you’re prickly.”

  “I’ll be out of your car soon, if that’s how you feel.”

  “I like you prickly.”

  “I’m not sure I like being called prickly.”

  “Would you rather be depressed?” he asked.

  She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “You’re trying to distract me and it’s not working.”

  A few minutes later Miles parked his car and turned the ignition off. “I’ll walk you up to your apartment and distract you up there.” Sarah was sixteen. She would be fine at home alone for an hour. Hour and a half. Two, if he could do it. He needed to stop worrying about her like she was twelve.

  “Don’t you have to go home to your daughter?” The door handle clicked and she shoved it open.

  “Rey, this doesn’t have to be a game.” He put a hand on her thigh to stop her. “Talk to me about how you’re feeling.”

  “Fine, come up.” She slammed the door and Miles was left to scramble after her up the walkway.

  He had to grab at the front door of her building before it closed on him and he was locked out. She didn’t hold the elevator for him, either, but let him stick his hand in to keep the door from shutting on his face.

  Thirty years from now, would she still push him away, threaten to close doors on him and in every way block his access to her emotions and her mind? How much of a masochist was he that the thought excited him?

  A challenge. He’d always liked challenges.

  At least she left her apartment door open after she beat him off the elevator and down the hallway. He shut the door behind him.

  “I think we should get married.”

  “If you’re trying to distract me, you’re going a little far, don’t you think?”

  He pushed off the door and walked closer to her. “I’m trying to distract you, but mostly I think it’s a good idea. If we were married, you wouldn’t be coming home to stay in an empty apartment. You’d be in bed, with me.”

  “Aren’t you a little too old to get married for sex?”

  “We could have the sex right now—” he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her tight to him “—but I’d still have to leave to go home and you’d still be in an empty apartment. I want you and the sleepover.”

  “Do you always get married for such noble reasons?”

  His arms tensed and he tried to cover it by stepping closer to her. “I had a very important reason to get married the first time.”

  He’d married Cathy for good reasons, but he’d had horrible reasons for sleeping with her. Sixteen years ago, Cathy had looked at him with her big brown eyes and his teen self had thought they’d looked a lot like Rey’s eyes. Then he’d decided they looked enough like Rey’s eyes that he didn’t care if they weren’t. It hadn’t taken him long to make the leap from “Cathy looks kind of like Rey” to losing his virginity. His entire future had taken a left turn after that first awkward sexual encounter, but he’d made decisions for good—if not romantic—reasons.

  If he married Rey, it would be because she was the love of his life. The lonely teenager and the emotionally strong, but hard-edged, woman. They were the same person. He wanted them both and he wanted to know what she would be like in another eighteen years.

  But Rey was too caught up in her own problems to realize what she’d implied about Sarah. The muscles in her face pulsed against her jawline and she wasn’t looking at him, but was focused on some point on the door over his shoulder.

  “You’ve only known me about a month—”

  He chuckled but, considering what he’d just admitted to himself, it was a hollow chuckle. “Twenty years.”

  “—a little more if I’m being generous and including the wedding.” Her eyes refocused on him.

  He’d known she was going to throw these arguments at him and he’d tried anyway. Masochism again, but at least she was finally distracted.

  Her pulse beat against his lips as he kissed the indentation between her neck and jaw. When her hips tilted forward and hands came up to rest on his shoulders, he knew he had control of her physical reactions, if not her emotional ones.

  He slid his hands down from her waist to grip her butt and pull her closer to him. When she was comfortably nestled between his legs, he responded. “I’ve been waiting for you since I was fourteen.”

  Rey’s head fell to the side when he nibbled on her earlobe. “I’m a very different person now than I was when I was fourteen.”

  “And I wanted to marry you then.”

  “You were a teen boy. You wanted to touch my boobs.”

  “I still do.” He slid his hand up her body and cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple and feeling it pucker under her shirt. “But my mama raised me right, and boob touching goes with marriage.”

  “You seem to be doing just fine without marriage.”

  “But I’m going to have to leave your bed just when it’s gotten warmed up.”

  “You staying over hasn’t always ended too well, anyway.”

  “No,” he said with a wry laugh. “It hasn’t. I’m hoping it would go better
if the only place you could scare me to was the couch.”

  “You have a daughter.”

  “I know.”

  “What would she think about our marriage?”

  She hadn’t said no yet, which meant she probably wouldn’t. He’d have to wait before she said yes, but that was fine with him. They had only known each other for a little over a month. And there was Sarah to think about, she’d need some time to get used to the idea. Still, if he gave in to Rey’s arguments, the time she needed to accept the inevitable would get longer and longer.

  “I’m thinking Sarah will have two families to love and care for her.” He kept one hand on her breast and slid the other to her waist and down to rest on her stomach. “We could even give Sarah siblings. She’d like a little sister or brother.”

  He’d gone too far. Rey drew back from him and his hand lost contact from her breast. Her neck was no longer open to his kisses and, though her eyes were still focused on him, they weren’t hazy with lust anymore.

  “If we get married, she’ll already have a stepsister. Or something. I don’t know what Ashley’s relationship with Sarah would be. I’m not going to think about that now.” She stepped back into his arms, but the contact only allowed her to crack the door open. “You are going to leave, and I’m going to be alone and think about how to explain to my daughter why I abandoned her. And how I’m going to do that in front of my mom, who kicked me out of the house when she found out I was pregnant.”

  He didn’t know if he wanted to shake her for her emotional withdrawal, or shake himself for saying something stupid. The frustration burning through his body wasn’t just about sex, it was about this woman driving him crazy. “You need to forgive yourself. And your mom. That happened almost nineteen years ago.”

  “When you hand Sarah over to the care of strangers, I’ll let you tell me how to feel and what to do. Until then—” he felt the muscles of her arm flex and the doorknob hit the back of his thigh “—go home and spend some time with your daughter. You might want to explain to her what it means that you’re going to have dinner with my mom and long-lost daughter.”