Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
When Linden parks, I reach for the door handle but he stops me with a stern, “Stay put,” so I fidget with my new bracelet and try not to stare too long at the thick curls left wild at the nape of his neck and his muscular shoulders flexing beneath his shirt as he crosses in front of the truck to open my door for me.
Has he always been this handsome and I just couldn’t see it? Or has something happened to us since he carried me down the mountain and saved my life?
He swings open my door. Framed by the cerulean summer sky and dressed so sharp, I can’t contain the flutter working up my chest. I slip my hand into his big, calloused palm and climb down.
But touching him only heightens the electric buzz firing under my skin.
And with it comes a sudden ache between my thighs. It’s reckless, almost urgent.
I’ve never had a craving like this before.
Linden offers me his arm and I feign a laugh while the temperature inside my core flashes to critical levels. We cross the hot pavement, my heels clicking in time with the scuff of his boots .
“Are there jobs I can help with once we get inside?” He reaches to open the big door for me.
“Everything should be set.”
Once inside the country club, I practically squeal.
The big poster of my dad on the field, his smile a mile wide seconds before getting the cooler of ice water dumped on his head after winning state is set up on the easel with the blue and white balloons just like I planned.
So what if the blue is more of a teal thanks to Darienne’s meddling. It doesn’t matter now.
“That’s a great shot,” Linden says next as we breeze by it. “Was that last season?”
“Yep. Right after the Falcons beat the Panthers.”
“He’s going to be missed,” Linden says.
“He left the team in great hands.” For the past three years, Dad’s been grooming the assistant coach for the job, plus he set up the special teams with a totally revamped program and raised enough money to hire another full time trainer.
We pass through the big ballroom to where the accordion walls have been opened to the patio.
Already, guests are mingling, the golden evening light bathing everything in a warm glow.
To the right, the ballroom is ready for the dinner service, the white linens and gold rimmed china looking sharp and classy on the thick white tablecloths.
And Darienne thought the blue hyacinths and gold glitter centerpieces would make it look too “country.” Wait until she sees it.
Everything looks so good. Even better than I pictured.
“Did you put all those pictures together?” Linden asks, nodding at the left wall lined with shots of Dad.
Guests are strolling slowly while taking in the photos, laughing, sharing their stories, their happy faces the best reward.
It’s exactly what I’d envisioned. Like a memory wall that displays Dad’s dedication, hard work, and success.
I dab the corner of my eye and gulp a big breath. “Yep. ”
Linden leads me to the starting point and leans closer to the big black -and-white image of Dad with a football tucked under his arm in a full-on sprint for the end zone.
“He played for the army, huh?” Linden asks, moving to the next series. “Hey, that’s you.” I’m the little girl in pigtails sitting on the bench in the background.
“That was his first real coaching job. Assistant defensive coach for the Falcons.”
Linden goes still beside me as we step to the next picture. “That’s your mom?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for the pendant at my neck, grounding myself in the cool weight of it between my fingers. “Yeah.”
In the picture, Mom is facing Dad, a giant grin on her face while he leans toward her for a kiss. It was the first state championship the Falcons won under his leadership.
Darienne told me not to include it because she thought it was inappropriate. But no way could I leave Mom out of Dad’s legacy tonight. Even though she’s not here to celebrate. She helped him get to the finish line.
“She was a football fan, huh?”
“Oh yes,” I say with a smile that hurts a little. “She might have been the Falcons biggest fan.” Enthusiasm she poured into her role as cheer coach.
The couple ahead of us turn back, and the guy gives me a bright grin. “I remember her. She’d sneak over from the cheer line to watch the action and root for us.”
“Sounds like Mom,” I say while a sharp longing twists inside my chest.
The guy extends his hand. “I’m Jed Maples. This is my wife, Carla.”
“Great to meet you both,” I say, shaking their hands. “This is Linden.” I glance up at him and we exchange a quick but unmistakable connection. Our first fake introduction! I have to bite back my laugh.
“What position did you play?” I ask Jed.
“Center,” he replies.
“Do you still play?” I ask.
He glances at his wife, and his eyes fill with such intense devotion that my heart does a cartwheel inside my chest.
“For fun or when I’m coaching our boys, yeah.” He gives me another easy grin. “Nice meeting you.” He slides his arm over his wife’s shoulder and they saunter ahead.
We continue, mingling a little as we go. I recognize faces I haven’t seen in ages—former coaching staff, a few of the players Dad has kept in touch with, a trainer I remember. Introducing Linden gets easier.
Two guys with the same deep blue eyes and identical athletic build give Linden a bright smile. I recognize the older one—he’s the Finn River Sheriff’s deputy I talked to after the incident with Russel—Zach Hayes.
“Rumsey, what the hell are you doing here?” Zach asks, nodding at Linden.
“I was invited,” Linden replies with a cock of his head.
“Hey, Meg,” Zach says, then turns to his carbon copy. “This is my brother, William.”
William’s smile is genuine but reserved.
I’m a little awestruck because William Hayes was one of Dad’s biggest stars.
I never met him, but he’s a legend. “So great to meet you,” I say.
“Are you just in town for the party?” I remember sending his invite to an Oregon address, but that step in party planning is a bit of a blur now.
William turned down a career in the NFL. Something about a bad concussion?
“William just started with Finn River Fire and Rescue,” Zach adds.
“Oh!” I glance at Linden, but of course he already knew all of this. “Congratulations,” I say to William. “From football to firefighting. How are you liking it so far?”
A look I can’t read flashes across his handsome features. He and Linden share a brief glance before he replies, “I’ve got a lot to learn, but the guys have been great.”
“That’s so good to hear.” I smile at Zach. “Did you play for the Falcons too?”
“No, we moved to Finn River after I’d finished high school.”
“Sounds like Finn River is lucky to have you both.” I hope they don’t get pestered with questions about current events tonight. Good thing Annaleise isn’t my date or I would have had to physically restrain her.
An older couple enters the ballroom and beeline for Zach and William. After they hug, the older man extends his hand to me. “You’re Meg, right? I’m Henry Hutton, and this is my wife, Barb. You probably don’t remember me.”
“All three of our sons played for your dad,” Barb adds. To my surprise, she pulls me into a soft hug. “I knew your mom,” she says, quieter. “This is such a lovely tribute to both of them.”
When we part, I dab at the unexpected tear pricked at the corner of my eye. Barb and I laugh about it, and then she rejoins her group meandering toward the patio.
“This is incredible,” Linden says, scanning the wall of pictures. “You put in so much work.”
“So did Dad,” I reply, pride swelling inside my chest.
Linden turns, his steady brown eyes so totally focused on me. “He’s a lucky father. I hope he appreciates it.”
My already wobbly tummy flips. “You want to get a drink?”
“Sure,” Linden says with a half-smile. We stroll past the guests milling at the photo wall to the bar set up at the edge of the patio.
A few elegant standing tables are scattered throughout the patio, each with a framed picture of Dad or the team and a handful of the noisemakers for later plus blue and gold glitter party hats in case people really want to ham it up.
Beyond the patio, the manicured greens of the ninth hole meet the forested foothills and jagged Bitterroots turning every shade of purple in the lowering sun.
“What a beautiful night,” a woman to my left says as she and her date step outside.
Linden’s hand grazes my low back, and a swirl of heat and longing and joy spirals tight inside my chest, making it hard to get in a steady breath.
I focus on the pebbled concrete beneath my soles and the cool air brushing my hot cheeks.
On Linden’s fresh woodsy scent and the tender weight of the bracelet on my wrist, its meaning burning fierce and powerful inside me.
Am I brave enough to admit what I’m feeling?
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.
Linden catches my eye, and his expression brightens, like me being an emotional fireball right now is cause for celebration. “You want wine tonight?” he asks, brushing a stray curl from my temple and tucking it behind my ear.
I gaze up at him, overcome with that desperation to kiss him again. Where has this charm been hiding all these months? Has he kept this tender, humble side of himself from me all this time? Or have I been too blind to see it?
“Yes, please.” I take a step closer to him.
As if sensing my need for assurance, he slides his arm to my waist and rests his big hand on the small of my back. This close, the scent of his manly aftershave and the warmth of his skin crowd every speck of my awareness. If I close my eyes, I’ll spin out of control.
Linden hands me a glass of white wine and picks up a beer for himself, then he leads me toward one of the standing tables. On the way, a woman I recognize pulls me into a hug .
“Meg, my god!” she says, squeezing me tight. “It’s Betty, the sports department secretary! Remember me?”