False Start (The McKay-Tucker Men Series Book 1) Page 4

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit much for tonight?”

  “Much? Nah, it’s perfect. And wear your hair down.”

  “Down?”

  “Yeah, you wear it up all week. Let it down and relax tonight.”

  Meg walked back into her bathroom and began drying her hair. Emma smiled quite smugly. While her mother knew how to dress for work, she definitely had no idea how to dress for a man. Her hair was one of her best assets, but her mother needed to learn how to work it. She held some back with a clip, in a tight bun or pulled it all back in a twist to keep it out of her face while working. All the pictures of stars in People and US Weekly showed gorgeous manes of hair. It was the hot look. Her mom needed to be hot tonight as well.

  Her mom had been playing it cool, as if she didn’t consider tonight a big deal, but the signs were so obvious. Two days ago she had her eyebrows waxed.

  Again. It had only been a little over two weeks since her last visit to the salon. She painted her toes. Again. While she typically kept her toes and hands perfectly manicured, she never redid them in the same week. “Wrong shade,” her mother said when Emma walked in on her taking her perfect polish off last night.

  Emma had to smile. Maybe her mom didn’t have the hots for McKay, but it was her first date in…ever. A little while later, her mom came down the stairs barefoot holding two different pair of shoes.

  “Okay, fashion expert. Not that it matters, but since you’re going to criticize whatever I wear, I might as well ask for your opinion. Are these shoes okay?” She held up a pair of black, open toe, closed back heels. Nice but she wore them with dresses regularly.

  “As if.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Sexy shoes, Mom. Go for the gold open-toe, open back, strappy three-inch heels. You never wear those.”

  “Em, I don’t want to go for sexy. This isn’t a date. It’s a banquet with a bunch of…coaches.” She shuddered.

  The doorbell rang and she ran back up the stairs. Emma smiled at her mother’s retreating back, opened the door, and froze. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the coach. McKay looked totally hot wearing his usual khakis and polo shirts or athletic gear on the field, but hot damn, throw him in a suit and…wow!

  “McKay. You clean up real nice.” She backed away so he could enter the house.

  He smirked at her and tugged at his tie. “Thanks. God, I hate wearing these things.”

  “Come on in. Mom’s just finishing up.” She led him to the small living room and plopped herself on the end of the couch. He remained standing and looked around the living room.

  “Cozy.”

  “Yup. Just us girls.” Emma was tempted to say more but didn’t want to embarrass him. Embarrass her mom she could do, but not the coach. She whistled when she saw her mom come down the stairs. The dress and the shoes complimented her figure and long legs. Her mom was beautiful. She sneaked a peek at McKay and saw the change in his face. His usual smirk and dimple were gone, replaced by a serious, almost scowling face.

  This had to be good, right?

  *

  Well, holy shit. The woman always looked fine and well put together, even out on the field when she had to attend the games, her jeans were stylish, the sweaters, sneakers…always looked good. But tonight, damn, tonight she was incredible. Sexy. Edible. He wanted to lick his way up her neck and plunge his hands in her mass of dark, wavy hair. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply stared. And fantasized.

  The whistle behind him reminded him he was also in the company of Emma, Meg’s daughter nonetheless, and the images running through his head were definitely not suitable for a younger audience. He turned and smiled at Emma, “Well, kid. I’ll make sure to have your mom home by curfew. Stay out of trouble.” He walked to the front door and opened it for Meg. “After you.” He gestured with his hand.

  Meg walked over to Emma and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. “Call me if you need me, sweetie.” She sauntered through the front door without so much as a quick glance or word to Connor.

  She was nervous. He could handle that. But, damn, her dress only covered one of her arms, baring her delicious, soft, satin skin on the left. That, he could not handle. He swallowed and cleared his throat as he followed her citrus scent down the short walkway to his car. Like a true gentleman, he opened the car door for her and closed it lightly after watching her tuck her long, sculpted legs into the car.

  Rounding the hood of his black Audi Spyder, he tugged at his tie again and tried to recall some of the “safe” conversation topics he could bring up during their two-hour drive. He positioned himself in the driver’s seat, put the car in reverse, and, out of habit, stretched his right arm across the back of the passenger’s seat as he backed out of the driveway. The jump Meg made did not escape his notice. She was rigid and stared out the front window, hands clutching a slim purse. The left naked shoulder taunting him in the moonlight.

  When they were on the road and his hands were safely back on the steering wheel, he saw her relax. A little.

  “Uh, you look nice.” It sounded corny, but he couldn’t remember if he complimented her yet.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  The silence felt awkward. Connor didn’t really want to talk about himself, and he figured the banquet would be a safe topic to discuss.

  “Should be a lot of people there tonight.”

  “Yeah.”

  Okay, so that didn’t instigate thrilling conversation, but he didn’t actually say anything insightful. Maybe if he asked her a question.

  “How was your day?” Again. Lame.

  “Fine.”

  She wasn’t making the car ride easy and there was no way he could endure one hour and fifty more minutes of hostile silence. He didn’t even want to go to the damn banquet anyway, not after the last one. There were many reasons he didn’t invite his coaching staff, players, or any of his family to tag along. The night was sure to be living hell. When Meg announced his nomination at the faculty meeting, the staff applauded and were positive this time would be different. Connor, however, wasn’t about to take any chances. No point in putting the people he cared about through the insults and drama. Meg already thought low of him so he honestly didn’t mind her witnessing an escapade. The silent treatment was killing him though. He’d rather argue than listen to the quiet hostility.

  “Okay, Meg. Cards on the table.” He quickly glanced at her and then moved his gaze back to the road. “We had a rocky start. Not all of it was your fault—”

  “My fault?” She turned in her seat and he felt her chocolate brown eyes bore holes into his right side. He tried not to let his gaze roam down her thigh, but he couldn’t help it if her dress slid up, revealing legs longer than his record-breaking 101-yard touchdown run in the divisional playoffs against the Giants. “I’m just doing my job, and a damn good job of it if I do say so myself, and you pick a fight over everything I do, every decision I make, and every change I suggest. You obviously have a problem with a woman in power and you hate the fact that I’m right in all our disagreements. So don’t try to make it look like you’re taking the high road by claiming our issues are fifty-fifty.”

  Whoa. He stayed silent while processing what she said. Their first altercation was about the athletic eligibility program. Okay, he’d admit the program worked. Being benched for the weekend game had been the perfect carrot to dangle in front of his academically unmotivated athletes. Their second big argument happened in October during homecoming. He gave his football team permission to spray paint the road leading to the school.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “It’s tradition around here.”

  Meg folded her arms across her chest. “Homecoming traditions are one thing. Trash-talking graffiti on the main road leading to the High School is inappropriate and disrespectful.”

  Connor scowled at her. “My team has worked their asses off. They’re undefeated and playing their rival, the Hornets, this weekend. And I’m not talking about trash talkin
g. All the kids want to do is show some school spirit.”

  “And what happens when they accidentally spray something inappropriate?”

  “The other coaches and I will monitor them.”

  She sighed, “Chalk. No spray paint. And you and your coaching staff must be present the entire time.”

  “Chalk? Are you friggin’ kidding me? They’re not toddlers. Spray paint. Nothing will go wrong.”

  “Chalk. And I doubt that.”

  The road looked great when the team went home that night. Unfortunately, some kids came back in the middle of the night and sprayed comments like, We’ll sting your ass! You may sting, but then you die. While none of the sayings contained racist or vulgar comments, they were inappropriate. He was angry Meg had been right, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he’d reamed his team out after the game and made them run an extra two miles before practice on Monday afternoon, but now felt guilty about not listening or apologizing to Meg.

  “Sorry about Homecoming. Things did get a little out of hand.”

  “Out of hand?”

  Thankfully, she turned back around and stared, seethed rather, out her window. Unfortunately, she pulled the bottom of her dress down so it covered her thighs. While he missed the golden flesh, he was grateful she took away the distraction.

  “The chalk talk was a good idea. We could’ve washed off the crap the kids wrote after I left.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  “I hung out for three hours watching those kids. You have to admit, the pictures and sayings the team came up with were pretty creative. The Hornets.” He chuckled. “Laskey set themselves up for ridicule when they made annoying little insects their mascot.” Still silence. “So that’s not why you’re pissed at me? Is it the comment I made about you needing to get out more?”

  “Get out more?”

  Shit. “I guess you didn’t hear that one.”

  He rubbed his hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decided the silence was better than her repeating everything he said and him sticking his foot in his mouth. Maybe charm would work.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  She snorted. Snorted. The beautiful, in control, respected principal and mother, snorted. Maybe she was human. Women liked to be complimented on their age. He’d try another tactic.

  “You definitely look too young to have a twenty-something old daughter.” He turned and flashed her his quirky smile. Ouch. If looks could kill. The glare radiating from her face made him feel small and stupid. Where had he gone wrong? For the first time, an attractive woman was not susceptible to any of his charm. Not that it oozed out of him tonight. But what he said was true. The parents of high school students he encountered didn’t look anything like her.

  Forget trying. Kissing her ass didn’t work. And while it was an excellent ass, he never stooped so low before, so why bother now? If she hated him, so be it. They were heading to a football banquet. His turf. He’d suffer in silence for—he glanced at the clock—another hour and twenty-two minutes. Connor turned the music up and pressed his foot down farther. Maybe if he drove a little faster he could make it without wringing her slender, naked neck.

  *

  Meg glanced over at the speedometer. Ninety. Twenty-five miles over the speed limit. She wanted to get the dreadful car ride and stupid banquet over and done with but also wanted to avoid an accident.

  “In a hurry?”

  He didn’t hear her. How could he with the music blaring so loud? Thirty minutes into the drive, after an ill attempt at making conversation and finding nothing on the radio, he put in a Guns N’ Roses CD and turned it up to a decimating volume. The last place on Earth she wanted to be was trapped in a room with hundreds of other athletes. It did strike her odd why Connor didn’t want to bring any friends, family, or coaching staff, but what did she know about the stranger sitting next to her? He probably spawned himself from a test tube mixing the perfect amount of testosterone, athletic ability, physical appearance, intelligence, and arrogance.

  The alpha male. Too good for family. Too self-centered for real friends. Not that she cared. Meg Fulton was just as good. Better. Mother, principal, independent, smart, and stylish. She played with the silver bracelet on her left wrist. Was that it? Did she have as little substance as Connor? God, she was just as bad as Mr. Arrogance sitting to her left. Risking her pride, but determined to erase the “bitch status” she gained if not in the past few months, definitely in the past hour, she reached to the control panel and turned down the music.

  “Too loud? I figured after raising a teenager and being surrounded by teens all day, you’d be used to it.” Connor ejected the CD and changed the station to an easy listening station.

  “I believe we’ll still make it in time if you drive the speed limit.”

  Connor noticed the speedometer and eased up on the gas. “G N’ R has that effect on me.”

  “Nice car. I’ll have to review the salary scale. We’re obviously overpaying our staff.” She meant the sarcasm to come off lightheartedly, but his tense jaw told her otherwise.

  They drove in silence again. Meg really wanted to end the awkwardness. It wasn’t fair to compare Connor to…him.

  “Is this the first time you’ve been nominated?”

  He glanced at her quickly. “No.”

  “Have you ever won?”

  “No.”

  Ah, a little role reversal. He seemed to be playing her game. Meg rolled her eyes and played the part of the better person. “Sorry. Maybe this is your year. Your team obviously respects you and played very well and you had a good season, despite some of the obstacles set before you.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you have an acceptance speech prepared?”

  “No.”

  “When were you nominated before?”

  “Few years ago.”

  She sat fuming. She tried. What did he expect? Meg figured she had two choices. Stop trying or end the game.

  Twisting in her seat, she faced Connor, sucked in a deep breath, and sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch.” She wasn’t letting him off the hook by turning back in her seat. Instead, she stared at his profile and waited for a response.

  It didn’t take long. The sexy grin Emma raved about for weeks made its way to his eyes and deep into her gut. The dimple in his chin became even more pronounced as the grin grew into a full-fledged smile.

  “Forgiven. Sorry about being a stubborn bastard.”

  “Hmm, you realize sorry means you won’t do it again.”

  “Well, in that case, I take part of it back. I’m sorry about being a bastard. The stubborn part you’re going to have to live with.”

  “I accept.” She turned again in her seat and lost her smile as she took in the view. As they neared Manchester, the lights from neighboring cities lit up the interior of the car. The city hosted closets full of secrets and skeletons. The advice Tracy gave her earlier today on the phone went out the window as soon as they crossed the Merrimack River.

  “It was a long time ago, Meg. You’re different. Emma tells me this Connor guy is one of the good ones. You have to let yourself live a little.”

  Flashbacks of fear, confusion, and pain filled her thoughts. Her heart raced and palms began to sweat. Practicing her meditation, Meg slowed her breathing and unclenched her hands, watching as the little half-moon impressions her perfectly manicured fingernails made in her palms began to fade. Calm your breathing. Pretend everything is normal.

  “So, will this be some stuffy banquet lasting all night or do we eat, accept the award, and leave?”

  “Confident I’ll win are you?”

  “No, hungry.”

  He chuckled. “I hate to say it, but you’ll probably be the center of attention tonight.” Her stomach, weak with unfamiliar fluttering, turned into a nervous brick.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, there aren’t many female football coaches. Well, any really.
There will be a few wives tonight, but mostly it’s a guy night.”

  “And you’re telling me this now? I wouldn’t have come. I asked Jim to, but it’s his anniversary tonight.”

  He smiled. “Spending the evening with a beautiful woman will lessen the blow if I don’t win.”

  “Oh, please. Feed me another line. I’m here as your principal, not your date. You could have brought one, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  They drove in companionable silence until the god-awful music started to repeat itself. Meg’s nerves had finally simmered but started churning again when Connor pulled off the turnpike and into the parking lot of the hotel. “Would you like me to drop you off while I park the car? The lot is pretty full. And you didn’t bring a coat.”

  Connor’s presence in her living room, dressed to the nines, heated her so much she actually forgot to bring her coat. Meg’s uneasiness weighed more heavily as she noticed the men wearing suits socializing outside the hotel. “No, I can walk. I like the fresh air.” She clutched her purse until her knuckles turned white and concentrated on her breathing as he maneuvered his sleek vehicle into a parking spot, not missing the irony in feeling safer by Connor’s side.

  Playing the role of the gentleman tonight, he opened her door and held out his hand to help her out of the low-slung car. His hand, warm and calloused, felt surprisingly comforting. Since when had being with Connor felt safe? He turned from enemy to protector in a matter of minutes. She didn’t recognize anyone at the banquet and did not want to be left alone in the middle of strange men. Meg didn’t resist when he put his hand on the small of her back and led her into the hotel. The simple, light touches brought back the fluttering to her stomach, which did well to offset the anchor buried deep in her belly. Holding her head high and her rolling her shoulders back, she plastered on a polite smile as Connor talked with his friends. An elderly man came rushing over to Connor and pat him hard on the back.

  “Good luck, Connor. Damn fine season. This time will be different.”

  Connor tensed for a second, then added, “We’ll see, Greg. Tim Jacoby and Ryan Levers had outstanding seasons this year as well.”