Not Another Bad Date

Chapter 5

One hundred fifty miles west of Cedar Creek, Zach was beginning to wonder if he was cursed, too. Cursed with a defense that hesitated on the snap and couldn’t get past a determined offensive line to rush the quarterback.

Within the guest locker room of the Grande Communications Stadium in Midland, he and his assistant coaches stood surrounded by the rattle of Tylenol bottles, the rip of athletic tape, the smell of grass, sweat, and frustration. In the first half of the game against Midland, the Cougars were behind by fourteen points.

Zach folded his arms across his dark green Cougar’s Football jacket while the defensive coach, Joe Brunner, drew a diagram of the zone blitz on a marker board. “We spent all goddamn week reviewing the Bulldogs’ tapes,” Joe said as he drew x’s and o’s on the board. “We knew goin’ into this game that they play their zone better than any team we’ve been up against this year. Their goddamn quarterback is just sittin’ back in the pocket lobbing balls to the soft spot, and you guys aren’t goddamn rushin’ him.” Joe drew dashes and arrows from the linebackers through the o’s as he continued.

Zach liked Joe. He respected his knowledge and devotion and his gut instinct. Joe had played cornerback for Cedar Creek and later for Virginia Tech in the nineties. No one loved football more than Joe Brunner, but he had a problem that held him back from ever being a head coach. He cracked under pressure. Right in half like someone split him with an ax, and out came a spitting, whirling devil. It was every coach’s job to get their boys to pull their heads out of their asses and turn games around, but that was hard to do if the fifty-three players in front of you were trying not to laugh.

Zach stood with the offensive coach to one side and watched to make sure Joe didn’t crack. They interjected when necessary and were relieved that only two veins popped out on Joe’s forehead. For most of Zach’s life, he’d been a quarterback, not a coach, but he’d played ball for some of the best coaches and some of the worst. He’d led teams to championships, and he knew the difference between being stern and going off on a tirade. He knew that players would leave their blood on the field for someone they respected and who respected them. A good coach inspired that kind of respect.

When Joe was finished, Zach stepped in front of the marker board. “Y’all know what you gotta do,” he said. “You go out there and make those Midland boys sorry that they showed up today.” He pointed to the defensive ends. “If you get blocked, I better hear it from where I’m standin’, and I don’t want to see you getting stopped by any more of those pussy finesse blocks. You get around those boys and run upfield like someone lit your ass on fire. You go after that quarterback and force him to get rid of that ball before he’s ready.” He pushed his ball cap to the back of his head and gathered the team around him. “The first half of this game is history, gentlemen. There isn’t anything we can do about it now. Let’s put it behind us.

“Last week when we lost Don, everyone started saying we were done. But I don’t believe that. One player does not make a team great. It’s what’s in each player’s heart and gut that makes a team great. It’s your job to go out there and show you have the guts and heart to turn this game around. I know you can do it. Tonight’s battle is not over. We’re not finished. We’re only down by fourteen, let’s go show ’em y’all are winners.”

He looked them all in the face. “So let’s hear it together: hearts, guts, glory.”

“Hearts, guts, glory!” the team shouted as they butted helmets.

“Now get out there and kick some Bulldog ass!”

Zach and the other coaches followed behind the team, the sound of cleats on concrete bouncing off the tunnel walls. The Cougars broke onto the field running as the Cedar Creek band played the school fight song. The players butted chests and helmets and fists, and in the second half, the defense finally broke through the Midland offensive line and rushed their quarterback. The Cougars closed the gap in the score and in the last few seconds of the game kicked a thirty-seven-yard field goal to win by three points.

As Zach filed off the field with his boys, he thought about the mistakes made in the first half. Next Friday night’s game was against Amarillo in Lubbock, and the Sandies had one of the toughest defenses of any team they’d played so far. If the Cougars played like they had against Midland, they’d get their asses handed to them and their run for the state championship would be over.

After the game, more than a dozen buses waited outside the stadium to be filled with players, cheerleaders, band and drill-team members, sponsors, and Cedar Creek students. Zach had driven his Escalade to Midland, preferring the comfort and speed of his Cadillac to that of a bus.

Usually, Tiffany went to the games, but not if it meant traveling.

He made it home in two and a half hours and fell into bed at 1:00 A.M. There was never practice on Sundays, and he planned to take advantage of it and sleep. Tiffany had other plans.

“Daddy,” she said, shaking his shoulder.

He cracked his eyes open. “What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“This had better be an emergency.”

“It is. We need to get stuff for my party.”

“What party?”

“My dance-team party. It’s today. Did you forget?”

For a few blissful hours he had forgotten that his house would be invaded by a dozen screaming thirteen-year-olds. “Christ on a crutch,” he groaned.

“Don’t swear,” his thirteen-year-old said, sounding a lot like his mother.

“Sorry.”

“Get up. We gotta get some burgers and stuff ’cause I wanna barbecue outside. You said we could, remember?”

“Don’t you girls just want to sit around and quietly watch the tube?”

“Daddy, you’re so funny.” Tiffany laughed. “I turned the heat up in the pool and told the girls to bring their swimsuits, if they wanted. I figured we could drag those big heater things out of the guesthouse and set them up on the lower terrace. Or maybe we can push everything out of the entertainment room and set up some tables so we can eat in there after we swim. What do you think, Daddy?”

Zach turned on his stomach and pulled a pillow over his head. “Just shoot me now.”

Midafternoon sunshine poured through the windshield as Adele pulled the car over to the side of the road and covered her face with her hands. She’d held it together in the hospital. She’d had to be strong for Sherilyn, but she’d never been so frightened in her life. For the last two hours, she’d stood in her sister’s hospital room, holding Sherilyn’s hand and watching her blood pressure rise. The intense beeps of the fetal heart monitor still echoed in her ears.

The doctors had come within minutes of wheeling Sherilyn to the delivery room and taking the baby before her blood pressure had slowly lowered out of critical range. At twenty-one weeks, the baby had a chance of surviving outside the womb, but not without the risk of serious health complications.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she’d told her sister over and over when everything was clearly not okay. But she hadn’t known what else to say. What to do besides stand there and watch and wait and hold it all together.

Tears slid from behind her lids, and she opened her mouth to gasp for air. She sobbed past the clog in her throat, and all the fear and sorrow and anger that she’d kept inside for her sister’s sake tore at her lungs, and she cried into her hands. The last two hours had been the worst hours of her life, and as she’d stood there helpless, trying to be strong for Sherilyn, she couldn’t help but hate William Morgan more than she already did. It should have been him there. Holding his wife’s hand and fighting for his baby. Instead, he was off acting like an idiot and boning his young assistant.

Adele took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her tears slowed, and she rubbed her hands across her wet cheeks. As she dug around in the console between the seats in search of a Kleenex, she reached in her purse for her cell phone. Sherilyn being Sherilyn had a little pack of tissues in the console, and Adele pulled one out of the package as she flipped open her phone.

It was half past three, and she was a little late picking up Kendra from her dance party. She dried her eyes and blew her nose, and instead of calling Kendra, Adele dialed her sister’s old home phone number in Fort Worth, where William still lived. The answering machine picked up after the fifth ring.

“This is Dr. William Morgan,” he began, and in the background a female giggled, “and Stormy Winter.” Bitch. “I am indisposed at present,” William continued. “Please leave a brief message and a telephone number where you may be reached.”

It was so like William to leave a pompous message while his girlfriend giggled in the background. A-hole.

Beep.

“William, this is Adele. I’m calling to tell you that…” She paused. The last thing Sherilyn needed was for the a-hole to call and upset her. Besides, he didn’t deserve to know. “I just called to tell you to go fuck yourself,” she said, and closed her phone. Okay, so that wasn’t very mature. But Sherilyn was right. It felt good.

She glanced into the rearview mirror and groaned out loud. Her eyes were red and the skin beneath splotchy. There was no way that she wanted to knock on Zach’s door looking like crap. Yet again. She flipped open her phone and tried Kendra’s cell. If she could get Kendra to wait for her outside…perhaps at the end of that long driveway…but Kendra didn’t answer.

Sherilyn had a little baggy for garbage stuck on the gearshift, and Adele tossed the Kleenex inside as she eased off the brake. She pulled back onto the road and dug around in her purse for her sunglasses. She tried Kendra’s cell three more times before pulling into the gated community.

“Damn.” She sighed and shoved her black sunglasses onto her face. She tossed the cell phone onto the passenger’s seat and drove around some fancy-schmancy clubhouse before turning into Zach’s cobblestone driveway. She’d thought about calling Kendra from the hospital to tell her she’d be late, but she hadn’t wanted to worry her niece since there wasn’t anything anyone could do. In hindsight, she should have so that a parent could have dropped Kendra off at home.

Two Mercedes and a Ford truck were parked beneath the portico, and Adele parked her sister’s car beside the truck. She tried Kendra’s cell one more time as she grabbed the blue Hard Tail hoodie that matched her sweatpants and shoved her arms inside. No one answered, and she was forced to get out of the car and move through the walkway to the front door. The hooded sweatshirt had a red star and black wings across her breasts, and she zipped it halfway up her chest. Her sweats were nice, but nothing fancy. Nothing to make a man regret he’d dumped her, but her eyes looked like crap, so a killer outfit would have been a total waste.

She stepped onto the porch, settled her glasses, and knocked. But really, who cared if she looked horrible—yet again—she told herself. She didn’t care what Zach Zemaitis or anyone else thought about her. Zach was a jerk. In fact, people were jerks. Her brows lowered, and she was somewhat taken aback by her cynical attitude. Somewhere in the past few weeks, she’d lost her usual optimism.

The door swung open and Zach stood in front of her, tall and ridiculously good-looking, but with Zach it had always been more about his confidence that hit women like a testosterone fireball than his looks. It had always been more about the cockiness that he backed up with enormous talent that drew women to him. Or at least it had been for her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said as she gazed at him through the dark lenses of her glasses. “I was at the hospital and there was a problem and…” And why would he care? “I should have called to let someone know I’d be late. Sorry.”

He wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt advertising Moose Drool beer on the front and down one arm, Levi’s, and black flip-flops. And if she’d been a weak woman, she would have been tempted to breathe into her hand and check her breath.

“Kendra’s in the pool,” he said, dragging out the vowels to the end of next week.

“It’s what…fifty-five degrees?” Although in some states that was considered balmy for November.

“Fifty-seven, and the pool’s covered in winter.”

Of course. “Could you tell Kendra I’m here.”

His gaze lowered to the wings on her hoodie, then rose slowly to her eyes. “Come in.”

“I’ll wait in the car.” She turned and pointed to the Toyota. “Just tell Kendra that I’m—”

“What are you afraid’s gonna happen?” he interrupted her.

She turned and looked at him. “Nothing.”

He took a step back into the house, and she could barely see him through her sunglasses. His voice came out of the shadows, low and almost rough, “Then come in, Adele.”

“Are you always this bossy?”

He shrugged. “Are you always this difficult?”

“Fine.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and walked into Zach’s house. He shut the door behind her, and she followed him through the entry and into the living room.

“Have you gone on your date with the red-haired guy?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Cletus? Yes.” Unlike the last time she’d been in the house, the expensive furniture and rich rugs were in place. She kept her gaze pinned on Zach’s wide shoulders and the back of his blond hair touching his neck so she wouldn’t make full eye contact with the big portrait of Devon staring down at her. Wherever Devon was buried, Adele was sure she was spinning in her grave. After everything Devon had done to keep Zach and Adele apart, here she was, in Devon’s house with Devon’s husband. Adele might have taken a moment to enjoy that delicious slice of irony if not for the fact that she didn’t want to be there any more than Devon would want her there.

“Wow. The guy works fast.”

“The date was nice.” Right up until he’d turned into a jerk.

“It would never work out you know.”

Yeah, she knew that. She was cursed. “Why? Because he’ll bruise like a peach?” She followed him into the kitchen. “And I figured out that you weren’t talking about me slugging Cletus, by the way.”

He opened a refrigerator and pulled out a plate of sliced tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce. Several high-pitched screeches from somewhere outside penetrated the house, and Zach winced. “You used to be quicker.”

“I used to be a lot of things.”

“I remember.” He shoved the plate at her, and one corner of his mouth turned up into a smile. “I remember a lot of things about you.” With her hands full, she was unable to stop him as he reached for her sunglasses and pushed them to the top of her head. “I remember your eyes, turquoise except when they turn a deeper blue.”

He’d been the first man to tell her that her eyes got darker when she got turned on. She remembered they’d been in his truck the first time he’d said it. He’d been kissing her mouth and touching her through her clothes and she’d wanted to eat him up.

“So tell me, honey,” he said just above a whisper, “what’s got your beautiful eyes so sad?”

A plate of veggies separated his stomach from hers, and she didn’t think to ask why he’d shoved the plate at her. For a few brief moments, she forgot he was a jerk. She was a woman who hadn’t had a decent date in years, and he was a man. An incredibly hot man with a soothing Southern accent that touched the places deep in her soul. The hot itchy places that wanted to be soothed.

Adele’s lips parted, and she took a breath. It would have been easy to unload her problems on his big shoulders.

“Life’s not so bad,” he said.

Showed how much he knew. “My life sucks.”

“Why?”

So many reasons. “My sister is in the hospital fighting for the life of her baby, and it should be her husband holding her hand. Not me.”

Zach lowered his gaze to Adele’s mouth. “Where’s her husband?”

She was so disconcerted by his attention to her mouth that her brain got a little fuzzy, and she blurted, “Off boning Stormy Winter somewhere.”

Confusion wrinkled his brow but he didn’t look up. “Stormy Winter?”

“His girlfriend.”

“Ah.” He slid his brown gaze back up to hers. “Stripper?”

Adele smiled. “His ‘assistant.’”

A door opened, and Zach looked up past Adele. “Shit,” he said through a groan.

“I thought you might need some help,” a female voice said, followed by the click of heels on the stone floor.

Zach returned his gaze to Adele’s and replaced her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “Thanks, Genevieve, but I found a helper. You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”

Behind the lenses of her glasses, Adele closed her eyes. Please God, not Genevieve Brooks.

“It’s no trouble,” Genevieve Brooks assured him as she stepped into the kitchen.

“Why am I holding this plate?” Adele finally thought to ask.

“In just a minute, I’ll need you to carry that outside.” Zach turned and walked back to the refrigerator, and Adele lowered her gaze to the back of his Levi’s. His wallet made a bulge in one pocket, and he bent forward slightly to pull out a big tray of hamburger patties and hot dogs. “You can grab the buns over there on the counter, Genevieve,” he added as he shut the door.

The heels of Genevieve’s pumps tapped across the tile as she moved to the counter. She was as tall and lean as Adele remembered, and she wore a white blouse, beige pants, and cardigan. Probably St. Johns. Several ropes of pearls circled her slim neck, and she wore a diamond the size of a marble on her ring finger. “Those girls are going to be starving,” Genevieve said. She grabbed the buns, then turned to Adele. “Hello. I’m Genevieve Brooks-Marshall. Lauren Marshall is my stepdaughter.” Genevieve’s makeup was understated and perfect, and her black hair was cut into a straight bob.

Adele assumed Lauren was on the dance team. “Kendra Morgan is my niece,” she said.

“One of the new girls?”

Adele nodded as Zach walked past her through the kitchen, and she followed him into the dining room. “I’m obviously interrupting your dinner plans,” she said to his back. “So, if you’ll just show me where to set this, I’ll grab Kendra, and we’ll leave you to your guests.”

He opened one of the French doors, and Adele stepped out onto a terrace. “What was your name?” Genevieve asked as she joined them.

“Adele Harris.” Adele waited for any sort of recognition from the woman with whom she’d gone through twelve years of school, but there was none. Adele wasn’t all that surprised.

Zach closed the door, and the two women followed him down a set of stone steps to the lower terrace and cobblestone courtyard. It was a clear November day, and Adele felt like she’d stepped into a fall issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Beyond the courtyard, sunlight fell on an expanse of pruned gardens, sculpted shrubbery, and a lawn that separated the main house from two smaller dwellings.

To her left, girls from Kendra’s dance team swam and jumped into a full-sized pool enclosed in steamy glass. Adele obviously wasn’t the only late parent.

She followed Zach toward a turbo-sized barbecue set into a stone island and past several tables set with yellow tablecloths. Between the tables were five commercial-grade patio heaters, each warming up the twenty feet around them. Adele set her plate next to a bag of chips and pasta salad on a long table. A man wearing a ball cap stood next to the monster-sized grill. The second woman standing beside him laughed at something he said. As Zach approached with the tray of meat, the guy in the cap opened the big chrome lid and scraped the grill with a wire brush.

Adele didn’t belong there and planned to make a quick getaway. She turned toward the pool, and the closer she walked to the enclosure, the more she was able to see that she’d either been mistaken about the time, or there were a lot of late parents. She opened the glass door and the smell of chlorine and the sound of high-pitched laughter hit her like a brick to the head. She spotted Kendra hanging on to the side of the pool and knelt on one knee beside her. “Am I late?” she asked above the noise, and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.

Kendra wiped water from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“About a quarter to four.”

“The party ends at six.”

“I thought you said three.”

“No.” Kendra shook her head. “Six. We practiced new dances until three. Maybe you got confused.”

“Obviously.” And Zach hadn’t bothered correcting her. “I’ll come back in a few hours.”

“Okay.” Kendra smiled. “How’s Momma?”

The last thing Adele wanted was to wipe the smile from her niece’s face. “She’s fine. The baby’s fine.” She stood. “Have fun, and I’ll see you later.”

Kendra sank into the water, then pushed off and swam toward a group of girls on the other side of the pool.

The door opened, and Zach stepped inside, carrying a glass of red wine. “It’s time for y’all to get out of the pool,” he said in a loud, clear voice, and the noise in the pool house suddenly quieted. Then he started issuing orders like he was calling plays on the football field. “Get dressed. Dry your hair. You’ve got fifteen minutes. Go.”

Adele half expected him to yell a few hut huts, then drop back for a pass. Instead, he moved toward her, grabbed her hand, and pressed the glass into her palm.

“What’s this?” she asked, and glanced up from the wine and into his face.

“Wine,” he answered. “I thought you could use it.”

“I don’t suppose telling you I don’t want wine will make a difference.”

“Sure it will.” He shrugged one big shoulder. “Are you an alcoholic?”

“No.”

“Allergic?”

“No,” she answered, as the girls began to drag themselves out of the water and move toward the far end of the pool, where Tiffany handed out thick white towels.

“Cheap drunk?”

“No.”

“Mormon?”

“No.”

“One of those girls who gets drunk and wants to get naked?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a shame.”

She smiled despite herself.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before these girls start with those ear-piercin’ screeches that they mistake for talkin.’” He placed his palm in the small of her back and steered her toward the door.

Through her sweatshirt, his touch pressed into her spine, light and heavy at the same time, spreading a warm, aware rush across her skin and bringing back visceral memories of his hand sliding to her waist and pulling her against his side. She took a drink of a very fine Merlot and was extremely grateful when he dropped his hand and opened the door. She stepped outside onto the walkway and felt she could breathe again. All that steam in the pool house had made her feel a little light-headed.

“If any of those girls get the sniffles, their mommas are goin’ to come after me,” he said, as they moved toward the courtyard.

Adele glanced at Genevieve and the other woman standing around the barbecue and wondered if they, too, had gotten the time wrong. “I thought I was late picking up Kendra. So, why didn’t you tell me I’m actually early?”

“My momma told me I shouldn’t ever correct a lady.”

Adele lifted a brow and looked up at him. “Uh-huh. Try again.”

“I knew you’d hop into your car and peel out on my driveway.”

He was right.

“And I don’t think it’s right that I have to suffer through this party by myself.”

“Isn’t that part of your job as a parent?”

“To suffer?” He nodded as they walked past the heaters in the courtyard. “Yeah, but what no one told me was that cleanin’ stinky drawers was goin’ to be the easy part.”

“You cleaned stinky drawers?”

“When I was home.” They stopped beside the grill, and Zach introduced her to Cindy Anne Baker. Next she met the guy in the cap, Joe Brunner, defensive coach for the Cedar Creek Cougars. “And you already met Genevieve,” Zach said as he grabbed the tray of burgers and dogs and lifted the huge barbecue lid.

Genevieve hardly acknowledged Adele with a breezy “Yes” before she turned her attention to Zach, and asked, “What can I do to help you?”

“Nothin,’” he answered as he picked up a spatula and placed patties on the grill. “You just relax.”

“Oh, you know I have to feel like I’m doing something useful.” Genevieve picked up a glass of Merlot and took a drink. She moved closer to Zach and spoke low so no one else could hear her.

“Which daughter is yours?” Cindy Anne asked Adele.

“It’s my niece, and she’s one of the new girls, Kendra.”

Cindy Anne looked like one of those stocky women who’d been a gymnast in a former life. Short, compact, perky. Hair cut into a blond wedge. “Do you have children?”

Through the white smoke rising up around Zach’s head, Adele caught his gaze and looked away. “No.”

“Married?” Cindy Ann asked.

“I came close once,” she fudged, and she figured if Dwayne hadn’t gone insane because of the curse, she might have married him.

“Boyfriend?”

She shook her head. “My pregnant sister is in the hospital with preeclampsia. I’m taking care of her and Kendra, so at the moment I only have time for my family.”

“Did you go to Cedar Creek High?” Joe asked as he looked straight at Adele.

“Yes.”

“We were in the same art class. I graduated a year after you.”

That finally got Genevieve’s attention. “You went to Cedar Creek?”

“Yep,” Adele answered, and told her the year she’d graduated.

Genevieve studied her face. “Oh. I remember you now.” She turned to Zach. “Did you get an invitation to the Night of a Million Stars benefit?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going, aren’t you? I know it will be painful without Devon. We still miss her horribly, of course.”

Zach placed hot dogs next to the patties, then set the tray down.

“We were best friends since our very first Little Miss Sparkle Pageant. We were close as sisters. Devon was just one of those special people, and the Junior League just isn’t the same without her.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I know how much you loved her, we all did.” Genevieve shook her head, and her perfect bob brushed her chin. “Life just isn’t the same without Devon.”

“True.” Zach rearranged the hot dogs. “But somehow we manage to live on.”

Adele looked down in her glass of wine and almost felt sorry for Zach. He must have loved Devon a lot. For years she’d told herself that they were miserable together. That he’d only married Devon out of responsibilty. That they weren’t in love. Not really. Not the kind that lasted a lifetime. It made her feel better to believe it, but it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

She thought of the life-sized portrait in the living room. That scary freaky picture of a dead woman. Zach must have loved Devon. He must still love her a lot.