2. Worst Fumble Ever
2
Riggs
Ican’t believe I’m back in Sublime. I swore when I left this place, I’d never come back. No, I was on to bigger and better things, and this tiny, hole-in-the-wall town was firmly in my rearview mirror. That was almost twelve years ago, when I graduated from high school and packed my bags for college on the East Coast.
But from the first rumbling of a rumor that the football league was planning to create a new team and Branston––which is less than a half-hour’s drive from Sublime––was the number one contender for hosting it, I felt a pull in my gut to come home. I declined to renew my contract with my old team, leaving myself a free-agent and primed to negotiate with the Branston Bandits as soon as it was official.
The head brass gave me everything I asked for, though I would have settled for a lot less had they come back with a counter offer. I’m their starting quarterback. The face of the team. And I negotiated for a spot for my best friend, Miles Blake, who’s now a starting defensive back on the other side of the ball.
And while Miles tried his best to convince me to share the condo he leased in Branston, I have other ideas. Which is why I’m here, in Sublime, checking out the housing market with my realtor, Candi Chetworth.
I roll my eyes as she leans in close, again, rubbing her fake tits on my arm as she points out the decorative baseboards and real hardwood floors. I shift away from the unwanted touch, and she pushes closer, not getting the message.
Much the way she never got the message in high school. We hooked up once during our junior year at an after-game party, and she chased after me for weeks even though I’d made it clear it was a one-time thing. I heard she got married right after graduation, but it must not have worked out if her lack of wedding ring and the way she’s been eye-fucking me for the last few hours are any indication.
“This is one of the smaller, simpler homes on our list,” she says, making her voice low and husky like we’re in the middle of pillow talk instead of a business transaction. “I have some larger, nicer homes to show you that will be more up to your standards.”
“Let me look at the rest of the place,” I say, walking toward the short hallway off the living room.
I lean into every open doorway, taking stock of the four bedrooms. Two have en-suite bathrooms, and they all have walk-in closets and plenty of room. The fifth door leads to a full bathroom. Nodding, I turn and bump into Candi, who’s standing far too close for comfort. She inhales deeply through her nose, shivering as she exhales.
What the fuck? Did she just smell me?
“Excuse me,” I say when she just stands there like she expects me to start making out with her, or something.
“Oh, sorry,” she says with a flirty laugh before stepping to the side.
I stalk down the hall and head for the kitchen, which is a good size with a large island and two ovens. There’s a breakfast nook area as well as a formal dining room, and a mud room off the garage complete with a washer and dryer. I decide to add this one as a maybe to my list. I like it, but I don’t want to pull the trigger before I see the other houses Candi’s got lined up.
“This is a decent neighborhood,” she says, following me back out into the living room. “The houses were all built in the nineties, so they’re a little older, but they have good bones.”
“Do you know anything about the neighbors?” I ask, looking through the front window at the house across the street.
“Well, Miss Nelly lives over there,” Candi says, pointing to the house on the left. “You remember her, right? She was an English Lit teacher when we were in high school.”
“I do,” I say, smiling fondly.
Miss Nelly was old as dirt when she was my teacher and a total firecracker. She never put up with any teenage bullshit, and wasn’t afraid to cut anyone being an asshole in her class down to size. She has to be in her eighties by now.
“Oh,” Candi says, interrupting my thoughts, “and Tessa White lives on the other side. You remember her, right?”
My entire body stiffens as I look in the direction she’s pointing as if I can see through the walls and right into the house next door. Do I remember Tessa White? Fuck yeah, I remember her.
“Oh, hey, didn’t you make a b––”
“I’ll take this one,” I say, cutting her off before she can finish that sentence.
“But the other houses…”
“Are bigger and more expensive, increasing your percentage. Yes, I know. I want this one,” I say, not reacting when she flinches back as if I’ve insulted her. “Offer ten percent above asking.”
“Okay,” she says, shuffling the papers in her hand. “I’ll head to the office and get started on the paperwork.”
“I’d like to stay and look around a little longer, if that’s okay,” I say, softening my tone to soothe her ego a bit.
I need her to work hard to get this house for me. I refuse to let my frustration with her cloying antics send her into a huff and make her purposefully fuck up the deal. I know her tactics. I remember them well. And she’s the only realtor available to help me at the moment. Her competition is on vacation in Hawaii. Believe me, I tried to take my business elsewhere when I found out Candi owns Sublime Realty.
“Of course,” she says. “Just make sure to lock up when you leave.”
“I will. And Candi,” I say, causing her to turn back to look at me, “thanks for all your help today.”
“You’re very welcome, Riggs Malone,” she says with a wide smile, then turns and struts out, shaking her ass as she walks.
I head back down the hall to the main bedroom and mentally place my furniture in the room. It’s big enough to fit my bed, the nightstands, and my dresser while still leaving room to walk around. I check out the bathroom, smiling at the larger shower stall and extra-long soaker tub. It’s perfect.
Walking back out into the room, I look through the window at the house next door. Tessa White. I haven’t heard that name in over a decade, though I’ve thought of her often in the years that have passed since I last saw her––standing on stage at our graduation, giving her valedictorian speech while refusing to allow her gaze to move in my direction.
She’d ended things between us long before then. I messed everything up by not being honest with her, and the last time we spoke was when she was kicking me out of her bedroom the night we were supposed to…
No. It doesn’t matter. All of that is in the past. We’re both adults now. Surely, that whole mess is water under the bridge, and we can be polite and neighborly, right? We’ll reintroduce ourselves and have a good laugh over how idiotic we were as teenagers. We’ll become friends, and maybe even––
“Woah, slow down there, Malone,” I whisper, moving away from the window.
I don’t know if she’s even single. I don’t know anything about her, other than the fact that she lives next door. The house looks big from the outside, and there could be a husband and a whole passel of kids inside its walls.
I’m thirty, which means she’s twenty-nine. Odds are she’s started a family by now. Maybe even with Jake Jenkins, that asshole who started sniffing around her skirts the second she broke things off with me.
I groan at the sick feeling in my stomach as I imagine the scenario. I have no business having feelings on the matter, at all. I had my shot. She gave me the ball, and I dropped it.
Worst. Fumble. Ever.
I just hope she’s willing to let bygones be bygones and won’t raise hell when she finds out I’m moving in right next door. Well, actually, I might enjoy a little hell-raising.
I just hope she doesn’t decide to pack up and move out at the first sight of me. Or worse, set my new house on fire so I have to move.
I shake my head at the ludicrous thought. Tessa White was the sweetest girl I ever met. No way has she changed that much. Right?