The All-Star Antes Up
Page 99
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It wasn’t until Patty’s offer of dinner had been politely refused and the men were trooping out to the trucks that Luke stopped in the family room of the farmhouse. It was odd to see his big, golden presence amid the familiar hand-braided rugs, rickety old wooden chairs, and dated plaid upholstery. He seemed both at home and out of place.
Miranda halted, too, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Here was her opportunity to follow Gavin’s advice.
Luke folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the faded blue-and-red rug. “Your brother has a real nice place here.”
“But exhausting. I have to admit that the prospect of moving all that cheese had me on the verge of collapse. Thanks for saving me.” She took a step toward him.
He lifted his gaze and she nearly backed up. His eyes were icy pale. “Now that I’m out of the picture, you’ll find someone who can take you to a restaurant for dinner without getting interrupted a half dozen times or being hounded by the press. Someone who can talk about art and ballet with you. Someone whose brother doesn’t hate him.” His voice grew tighter with every sentence. “You deserve that.”
She took a deep breath. “What if I prefer someone who comes home bruised and needs the doctor I call for him? Someone who signs dollar bills for blue-haired ladies. Someone who can read Egyptian cartouches. Someone whom I love.”
She’d said it.
He flinched as though she’d backhanded him across the face. “It’s only been ten days. No one can fall in love that fast.”
Now she felt as though he’d slammed his big, football-tossing fist into her chest. “I guess you can’t.”
He shook his head and repeated, “No one can.”
She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I never thought I’d be saying this to the illustrious Luke Archer, but you sell yourself short.”
She thought she saw uncertainty flicker across his face, but it was gone too fast to be sure. “We all have to make choices in life.”
That pretty well closed up any chinks in his armor. Damn Gavin Miller. She gave it one more try. “You can make different choices in the future.”
He looked away, his arms still crossed over his chest. “I owe my teammates my best.”
What could she say to that? She let her shoulders sag. “I hope you bring home the Vince Lombardi Trophy for the fifth time.”
He stood a moment longer, still not meeting her eyes, before he pivoted to walk out the front door.
Miranda wanted to sink into a heap of wretchedness and humiliation on the floor, but she owed the other helpers a thank-you. She smoothed her palms down the front of her jeans and forced herself to follow Luke outside.
He saved her further embarrassment by walking to the SUV and leaning against the hood while she said farewell to everyone else.
Gavin Miller came up and nodded his head toward Luke. “Look at him.”
The quarterback had his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest, and his face turned away. Every line of his body was a rejection.
The writer leaned down beside her ear. “He’s using every ounce of his iron self-control not to grab you and kiss you senseless.”
Chapter 28
As the elevator glided upward toward his penthouse, Luke’s cell phone pinged with a text message from Gavin Miller.
You’re an idiot.
Luke slammed his boot into the wall, making the elevator sway slightly. The man was like a wasp.
He slid his phone back into his pocket without answering the text. The elevator doors slid open, and he started down the hall toward his bedroom. He needed a shower, and he needed to stop thinking about Miranda.
“Hey, bro.” Trevor’s voice halted him in his tracks.
Luke muttered a curse under his breath. He rerouted his footsteps into the living room.
Trevor stood in front of the couch, his hands hanging by his sides. He was wearing what Luke thought of as his teaching uniform: a tweed jacket, a white shirt with a funky tie, and jeans. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the coffee table in front of him.
“I got hungry waiting,” Trevor said. He scanned Luke. “You look like you’ve been in a barn.”
“Nailed it.”
His brother’s expression turned skeptical.
“What do you want, Trevor?”
The other man flinched before he sucked in a breath, his shoulders rising on the inhale. “I came to apologize.”
“This isn’t a good time.” Luke had enough to deal with. He didn’t need more whining self-justification from his brother.
Trevor hesitated a moment. “What’s going on, Luke?”
“I need a shower.”
“Fine. I’ll say my piece and get out of your hair.” Trevor’s hands curled into fists. “I got a job as an adjunct professor on the tenure track at Skidmore.”
Luke frowned, racking his memory. “Skidmore. No one from there called me.”
“I didn’t use your name as a reference.” Trevor lifted his chin. “One of my visiting profs from Harvard ended up there. I reached out to her when I saw the job listing. The final interview was today.”
“That’s real good news, Trev. Congratulations.”
“Jodie’s flying out to look at houses tomorrow.” Trevor dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I called the concierge the other night. Thank God she wouldn’t accommodate my request.” He met Luke’s eyes. “I know how lucky I am to have Jodie.”
Miranda halted, too, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Here was her opportunity to follow Gavin’s advice.
Luke folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the faded blue-and-red rug. “Your brother has a real nice place here.”
“But exhausting. I have to admit that the prospect of moving all that cheese had me on the verge of collapse. Thanks for saving me.” She took a step toward him.
He lifted his gaze and she nearly backed up. His eyes were icy pale. “Now that I’m out of the picture, you’ll find someone who can take you to a restaurant for dinner without getting interrupted a half dozen times or being hounded by the press. Someone who can talk about art and ballet with you. Someone whose brother doesn’t hate him.” His voice grew tighter with every sentence. “You deserve that.”
She took a deep breath. “What if I prefer someone who comes home bruised and needs the doctor I call for him? Someone who signs dollar bills for blue-haired ladies. Someone who can read Egyptian cartouches. Someone whom I love.”
She’d said it.
He flinched as though she’d backhanded him across the face. “It’s only been ten days. No one can fall in love that fast.”
Now she felt as though he’d slammed his big, football-tossing fist into her chest. “I guess you can’t.”
He shook his head and repeated, “No one can.”
She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I never thought I’d be saying this to the illustrious Luke Archer, but you sell yourself short.”
She thought she saw uncertainty flicker across his face, but it was gone too fast to be sure. “We all have to make choices in life.”
That pretty well closed up any chinks in his armor. Damn Gavin Miller. She gave it one more try. “You can make different choices in the future.”
He looked away, his arms still crossed over his chest. “I owe my teammates my best.”
What could she say to that? She let her shoulders sag. “I hope you bring home the Vince Lombardi Trophy for the fifth time.”
He stood a moment longer, still not meeting her eyes, before he pivoted to walk out the front door.
Miranda wanted to sink into a heap of wretchedness and humiliation on the floor, but she owed the other helpers a thank-you. She smoothed her palms down the front of her jeans and forced herself to follow Luke outside.
He saved her further embarrassment by walking to the SUV and leaning against the hood while she said farewell to everyone else.
Gavin Miller came up and nodded his head toward Luke. “Look at him.”
The quarterback had his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest, and his face turned away. Every line of his body was a rejection.
The writer leaned down beside her ear. “He’s using every ounce of his iron self-control not to grab you and kiss you senseless.”
Chapter 28
As the elevator glided upward toward his penthouse, Luke’s cell phone pinged with a text message from Gavin Miller.
You’re an idiot.
Luke slammed his boot into the wall, making the elevator sway slightly. The man was like a wasp.
He slid his phone back into his pocket without answering the text. The elevator doors slid open, and he started down the hall toward his bedroom. He needed a shower, and he needed to stop thinking about Miranda.
“Hey, bro.” Trevor’s voice halted him in his tracks.
Luke muttered a curse under his breath. He rerouted his footsteps into the living room.
Trevor stood in front of the couch, his hands hanging by his sides. He was wearing what Luke thought of as his teaching uniform: a tweed jacket, a white shirt with a funky tie, and jeans. A bottle of water and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the coffee table in front of him.
“I got hungry waiting,” Trevor said. He scanned Luke. “You look like you’ve been in a barn.”
“Nailed it.”
His brother’s expression turned skeptical.
“What do you want, Trevor?”
The other man flinched before he sucked in a breath, his shoulders rising on the inhale. “I came to apologize.”
“This isn’t a good time.” Luke had enough to deal with. He didn’t need more whining self-justification from his brother.
Trevor hesitated a moment. “What’s going on, Luke?”
“I need a shower.”
“Fine. I’ll say my piece and get out of your hair.” Trevor’s hands curled into fists. “I got a job as an adjunct professor on the tenure track at Skidmore.”
Luke frowned, racking his memory. “Skidmore. No one from there called me.”
“I didn’t use your name as a reference.” Trevor lifted his chin. “One of my visiting profs from Harvard ended up there. I reached out to her when I saw the job listing. The final interview was today.”
“That’s real good news, Trev. Congratulations.”
“Jodie’s flying out to look at houses tomorrow.” Trevor dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I called the concierge the other night. Thank God she wouldn’t accommodate my request.” He met Luke’s eyes. “I know how lucky I am to have Jodie.”
