Chapter 18

After making it home from the falls in a daze, I managed a hot shower. As my mind whirled with everything Chanelle had said, and the things we’d done at her secret waterfall, I gazed out at the storm-swept street. As sheets of gray water thrust sideways, pushing the willow’s thin limbs horizontal, I gripped a mug of warm soup.

Chanelle’s smile. Wide. Impish. A hint of promise. No, more than a hint. The bluish shimmer in the delicate strands of black hair under the sun. So incredibly soft, yet firm, her sleek body gliding over mine. Such delicate lips. A shudder rippled through me. God, she had some suction. The hunger in her twinkling eyes as we’d kissed in the muddy lot.

“Las Vegas?” I whispered as my gaze drifted to the backpack.

A lengthy sigh slipped from me. I mean, it was as good a place as any. Until then, other than leaving, I hadn’t picked a destination. And keeping Chanelle company was an added benefit. But we still had almost eight months. With a slow roll of my shoulders, I glanced at the phone.

It was only seven o’clock. I could call Coach. But after another longer exhale, I dropped to the couch.

No. Right then, I only wanted to relish the memories of Chanelle. Her silken, warm skin humping against me. The way her rapid breaths had pummeled me was she’d flung herself along my aching shaft. Pure magic. No, for the rest of Saturday, I was selfish.

The next day at church, I kept to myself. While momma didn’t ask and I didn’t offer, the glint in her eyes said enough. She was a wise woman. Of course, momma knew there was a girl. By then, she’d probably figured more than one. After finishing my homework, I spent the rest of Sunday afternoon wandering around the house, mulling over where to take Chanelle next.

Even as Monday dawned gray, I was still ruminating as I drove through the rain to school.

“After that picnic, should I ramp things way up?” I mumbled. My fingers squeaked on the worn leather-wrapped steering wheel. “Or cool them, us, down?”

As thunder rumbled and raindrops pelted the school’s windows, classes dragged. Despite the field being a muddy swamp, Coach had us out in full pads. At least it was cooler, if humid as heck.

It wasn’t until after I’d showered and changed that Coach pulled me aside. My pulse pounded as he leaned into me just outside the locker room. After a pair of players sauntered past, joking, and laughing, he gripped my arm and tugged me further from the room’s scuffed blue metal exit door.

“Could you come over Wednesday?” he said in a low voice while his eyes scanned behind me.

“Uh, it’s a school night, Coach. I don’t know. My momma—”

“Only dinner. My wife ... Uh, she really misses you, Hiram. She just wants to see you. She’s”—he quieted as another group of players tore from the locker room heading for the parking lot—”scared, Hiram.”

When I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow, he rolled his lips and leaned even closer. His minty breath puffed over me as he followed the still closing door. Only after the creaking ended in a metallic clang did he turn to me.

“She doesn’t want to lose you, Hiram. And I—”

“You don’t want to see her with anyone else either, do you, Coach?”

As he stared into my eyes, the silence stretched. At last, with a blink, he gave me a curt nod.

“You’re good for her, Hiram. And I trust you. Some of the others ... Okay, most of the other men. They just used her. I mean, sometimes she didn’t mind, but”—a lengthy sigh left him followed by a swift gulp—”they took advantage. You’re not that way. And, well, when you’re with her, she comes alive. She’s everything ... Everything I wish she’d be with me. But I can’t ... There’s no way I could do the things you ... Uh, with her. So yeah, Hiram. I want you to return.”

Even as my heart soared with all that useless worry slipping away, I held myself steady. Well, maybe not all of it. Was this real? My mind whirled. Instead of replying right away, I inhaled and looked past Coach at the empty locker room. Really? She wanted to see me again. And Coach chose me to be with her. But solely for dinner? Only after I’d let the moment drag a little longer to get my heartbeat under control did I return to him and nod.

“Okay, Coach. Wednesday. Dinner.”

“Thank you, Hiram. I mean it. What I said. You’re...” He flashed me a slight grin. “Well, you’re a special kid.”

After leaving him, I clambered into my truck. Dinner? Well, time for a K-Mart run. After parking at the almost-empty store, I wandered the men’s department. At last, I spotted a decent shirt in my size. Silk, with wide lapels and long sleeves, it was plum-colored. The same shade as Mrs. Jenkins’ tank top. The one she’d worn in the kitchen the last time I’d seen her. And felt her hard little body. Although she’d swallowed nervously, the slim young employee hadn’t spoken a word as my smile broadened.

The next forty-eight hours seemed like a million years.

Under a constant rain, Tuesday crept by like a snail in glue. Despite Coach’s protests, the maintenance guys forbade using the field for practice. Instead, we did short drills in the gym before Coach cut us loose. Other than the same guidance he’d provided the other players, he said nothing to me. Well, with words. His eyes, though. Whenever I caught him watching me, they were both nervous and—hopeful.

Ditto for Wednesday. At least the classroom part. And the rain part. After a growl at the heavy gray clouds, Coach canceled practice outright. Which left me with plenty of time to shave and shower before ironing my new shirt and a pair of black slacks. After dressing, as I stood before the bathroom mirror, a grin appeared. Tight to both pelvis and thighs, the slacks highlighted my muscular build. My grin widened; each pulse of my swelling shaft was also visible. Likewise, the shirt hugged my broad torso, and any motion of my chest displayed its muscles.

Even as thunder rumbled, my grin refused to diminish as I dashed for my truck to head for Coach’s home. After pulling into their driveway under a steady downpour of slanting, wind-driven rain, I sat and stared at their house. With its front windows lit and the porch lights on, it was enticing. Alluring even. Offering both shelter and warmth. And ... In the flickering light behind the white curtains of their dining-room window, a shapely silhouette flitted. Those luscious curves.

With a low growl, I shoved open the door, lurched from the cab and sped to the cover of the veranda. After shaking off the drops, I poised my finger before the bell. Every word Coach had told me, everything his wife had said to him, and finally the unspoken whispers in her eyes all swirled in my skull. After a swift nod, I jabbed the button. I’d play the game. Any damned game they wanted. And be in whatever role I needed so I could get near her again.

After pulling the door open, Coach flashed a smile. Then looked over his shoulder.

“He’s here! Hiram’s here, honey.” After calling out, he returned to me, holding out his hand. As I shook it, he gestured me inside. “Come on in. It’s a wet one, huh?”

“Yes, sir. It is.” As I stepped into the foyer, my heel slipped and I caught my balance by flinging my arms wide.

“Good evening, Hiram.” Mrs. Jenkins’ voice echoed from the kitchen. “Um, I’ll be ... Uh, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“She’s been cooking up a storm,” Coach whispered with a nod towards their small, dark-green dining room.

Atop the shiny oblong wooden table was a trio of place settings. One at the head; the others flanking. All the dishes were fine China. Heavy crystalline glasses for both wine and water. I joined his chuckling as I noted a lot of empty trivets awaiting food. A pair of candles in tall golden holders provided the only illumination. Their flickering glimmered off the room’s polished wainscotting.

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