Chapter 6 #2
Welcome to small-town living. Normally, I’d avoid interactions like this, but here in Cottonwood Cove, it was just the norm.
“What type of surprise?”
“Well, Lionel is the kicker for our high school football team.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I hadn’t guessed the kid was an athlete, but that was the thing. You never knew what someone had inside them. Hell, I was a scrawny kid once, too.
“I didn’t know that. Good for him.”
“I thought maybe you and I could plan a surprise out on the high school football field. He just played his last season and was hoping to play in college, but he hasn’t been recruited yet.
I know he misses it already. So, I was going to do a picnic out on the football field and bring cupcakes, and I thought maybe you could come out and surprise him.
Throw the ball to him a few times. Watch him kick a few touchdowns. ”
“Field goals?” I corrected her because she clearly didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“Po-tay-toe. Po-tah-toe. I’m not a sporty girl. But I do love Lionel. And I think it would probably be the best gift I could give him.” She shrugged. “Well, we’ve already done the deed, and I think that’s going to be tough to beat.” She waggled her brows.
Was I in some kind of small-town twilight zone? Why the fuck was she telling me this?
But go, Lionel. Good for him.
“Yeah. Tell me the day and time to be there, and I’ll show up.”
Why was I agreeing to do this?
“Next Tuesday. Seven p.m. Cottonwood Cove High School football field.” She quickly wrote the information on a piece of paper and folded it up before squealing the highest pitch known to man. I was certain windows were shattering everywhere within a ten-mile radius and dogs were running for cover.
I slipped the paper into my back pocket and nodded.
“You won’t regret this, Jimi Hendrix.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Yeah. You got it.”
I turned around just as a tall man with long, dark hair walked toward me.
He wasn’t smiling, and I wondered if he knew that I was the guy who’d gotten his sister fired.
I didn’t have siblings. I didn’t know what people shared with one another when it came to that kind of stuff.
But as he closed the gap and his gaze narrowed, I was fairly certain he knew.
“I’m Hugh Reynolds. How can I help you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. The man stood eye level to me, and we were similar in size, which wasn’t the norm, considering I was a big dude.
“Hey. I’m Lincoln Hendrix. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about the guy with your sister over there.” I’d never been this guy. I didn’t get involved in other people’s business because I didn’t like people to get in mine. But I couldn’t help this burning need to make sure that she was okay.
Maybe it was guilt over what had happened between us weeks ago.
I didn’t know.
But I’d always been a man who trusted my gut.
“I know who you are. I’m a big fan, actually. Well, that is until you got my sister fired and she condemned us all to a life of hating you.” He raised a brow and smirked. “And now you’re concerned about her?”
Obviously, they were close.
I ran a hand down my face. “I didn’t know I got her fired. I was pissed that she followed me into that bathroom. It was a dick thing to do. I tried to get her her job back, but she wouldn’t take it.”
He chuckled, his lips turning up in the corners. “That’s Brinks for you. She beats to her own drum. It was time for her to move on. Her old boss was a real dickhead. And we’re glad to have her back home for now anyway.”
“She’s going to start shadowing me tomorrow, and she’ll be the first one to break the news about where I’m going to play next season,” I said, and I didn’t know why I was saying so much to this guy.
“Really? She hadn’t shared that with me.”
“I just spoke to her, and we agreed on it. She still hates me, but I think her work is more important to her than her dislike for me.”
“I see. And you’re concerned about Breen Lockhart?” he asked, and there was humor in his tone now.
“He’s a dick.”
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel.” He smirked.
“Listen, you don’t know me. I got your sister fired.
She hates me.” I shrugged as I glanced across the restaurant to see Brinkley laughing at the table where she sat across from Breen.
“I understand that you have no reason to listen to me. I just don’t trust the guy, and I want to make sure she gets home safely. ”
“I got you, man. I appreciate it. I will make sure she gets home safely.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Yeah, of course. And I see you ordering from here every night, Captain.” He barked out a laugh. “But you do know that you’re welcome to come eat here, right? Brinkley can’t ban you from the restaurant.”
“Sure. Next time I’ll grab a table.”
“All right, have a good night. Looking forward to seeing where you play next season.”
“You and me both. Your sister will be the first to know.” I held up a hand and waved before heading to the door.
“See you later, Abraham Lincoln,” the hostess called after me, and I shook my head before exiting the restaurant.
I didn’t mind that she didn’t have a fucking clue who I was. I actually kind of liked it.
I liked this town.
And the fact that I was just another guy here.
When I got home, there was a message from Drew, telling me that he was getting pressure about when I’d have my decision. If I knew where I wanted to play, I’d tell him. I just wasn’t there yet.
Working on it, brother. I’m going to let Brinkley Reynolds shadow me for the next few weeks and tell my story. She’ll break the news about where I’m playing, as well. But I will have boundaries about what I’m willing to share. The whole fucking world doesn’t need to know every detail of my life.
Drew
You are a fucking softy, aren’t you?
I sat down and pulled out my dinner and put on ESPN.
There were four guys discussing my future as if we were personal friends.
I listened as they weighed out my options, and I shook my head with disbelief as one of the dudes said that he was pretty certain that I was staying in San Francisco. He said that he had a valuable source.
Who the fuck was his source? Because I’d love to talk to them, as well.
I didn’t know where I was going, so there was no source that had that answer.
And as soon as I had it, I was going to give it to Brinkley Reynolds.
This would be my way of making amends.
I’d been the reason that she’d lost her job, whether I wanted to admit it or not. And now, she’d get to break this story, and it would be a good way for her to get her foot in the door at another magazine.
It was the right thing to do.
Even if it would pain me to have someone hanging around, asking me questions every day.
I was getting ready for bed and picked up my phone to text her.
Hey. Let’s meet at 7:00 a.m. down by the cove. Are you up for a four-miler?
The three little dots moved around the screen, and I found myself staring impatiently, waiting for her answer.
B.R.
Captain, is this you?
Are you meeting someone else for a run tomorrow morning?
B.R.
Obviously not. But you could learn some manners about texting someone for the first time. So, let’s go over how this will work. How long are you going to let me shadow you?
Are you home yet?
I didn’t know why I asked. Why I cared. But I needed to know before I answered her question.
B.R.
Yes, I’m home. Thanks for going to my brother and asking him to follow me, by the way.
You’re welcome. I can’t tell you my story if you aren’t around to hear it.
B.R.
So, now Breen Lockhart is a murderer?
Who knows what that dickhead is capable of.
B.R.
Well, so far… great conversation. Flirty banter. And he bought me dinner. What a bastard.
He’s probably fucking your server behind the restaurant because you didn’t go home with him.
B.R.
You’re such an asshole.
I’ve been called worse.
B.R.
So, what’s the plan? I run a few miles with you, and you’ll tell me where you’re going to play next season?
In your dreams.
B.R.
Let me guess. You’re going to waste my time? Shocker.
I don’t know where I’m going to play yet. That’s the honest truth. Take it or leave it. You can ask me other questions until I figure it out. I thought you wanted the whole story.
B.R.
What am I allowed to ask?
Whatever you want.
B.R.
Really? You’re going to tell me whatever I want to know?
No. I said you could ask me whatever you want. I’ll answer what I want to answer. Tomorrow. 7:00 a.m.
B.R.
I hate you.
Right back at you, sweetheart.
Why was I excited to let her interview me? I hated this shit.
But I was counting down the hours until tomorrow morning.