Chasing Jillian: A Love and Football Novel (9 page)

One of the little girls dug around in her pocket for the lip balm Jillian told them was “makeup.”

“You need makeup,” the little girl informed Seth.

“I see,” he said.

The little girls applied as much of the barely pink-tinted stuff as they could to him.

“He looks pretty now,” one of them said.

“Let’s put some on Brandon,” another girl insisted.

“You don’t have to do that,” Brandon said. “I will wear one of your tiaras, though.”

Seth turned to face Brandon. “Aww, come on. It’s not so bad,” he said. “The stuff tastes like strawberries.”

“Strawberries, hm? Maybe I’ll give it a try.” Brandon gave the little girl who wielded the “makeup” a raised eyebrow. “If I do this, will you teach me to play soccer too?”

“Yes!” the girls screamed.

“Well, then. I’m all yours,” he said.

Jillian grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket to snap a picture. She’d have to ask Brandon later if he minded her sending the picture to his wife. She knew Brandon was crazy about his sons, but if there was ever a guy who needed a little girl of his own, it was him.

The Sharks’ photographer also circled the scene, snapping away. A few minutes later, the makeup application was complete, and the face painter arrived to add the Sharks’ logo to Brandon’s and Seth’s faces before the little girls clustered around them for even more pictures.

“Hey! What about me?” Tom called out. “I don’t have any little girls at home. I want in on the action. Where’s my makeup? I need one of those crown things too.” He glanced over at Jillian. “Will you take a few pictures of us with my phone?”

Tom sat down on the carpeting of the Sharks’ cafeteria as three of the girls smeared what was left of the lip balm on him and attempted to secure the tiara on his head. His hair was so short, the tiara kept falling off, which brought more giggles and redoubled efforts to get the tiara to stay on. Jillian managed to get several pictures and took a couple on her phone too. She’d met Tom’s wife; she could only imagine what Megan Reed would have to say about them when she got a look.

A few minutes later, the guys were propelled out to the practice field by the group of girls. The team photographer followed them out the door. If Jillian finished the cleanup, she could go outside for a few minutes to watch too. She turned to grab her sweater off of the back of a chair as she heard Kade’s voice.

“It’s cold out there. Let’s pull up a chair and relax.” She felt his fingertips brush the small of her back as he dropped into the chair next to her. She was startled and pulled away from his touch. He didn’t seem to notice. “I like kids, but the screaming’s giving me a headache. How about you?” He popped a slice of kiwi fruit into his mouth as he watched her.

“I’m going to clean up a little more and go out to see what they’re doing,” she said.

She picked up the trash bag she was using and moved a foot or so away from him. She knew there were enough parents and Sharks personnel out there that they really didn’t need her help, but she was a little freaked out that Kade seemed to be stepping up his “get to know Jillian” campaign for whatever reason.

He pulled out the chair next to him. “Keep me company, won’t you?”

Most other women probably would have jumped for joy to get any attention from him. He wasn’t unattractive. He was tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed and, like every other Shark, in great shape. She’d never been a fan of guys who didn’t take no for an answer, though, and she’d already politely told him she wasn’t interested.

“I really need to get this stuff cleaned up a little, and then I’ll go outside to keep an eye on what’s happening,” she said.

He gave a low chuckle. “Let the cafeteria staff do the cleanup. Isn’t that what they’re there for?”

She wanted to snap at him. She took a deep breath and concentrated on using a casual tone. “They’ve already done a lot of extra work for us today. I don’t want them to be left with a huge mess.”

“Aww, c’mon. You’re not avoiding me, are you?” He smirked at her.

“Of course not,” she said.

Yes, she was, and she needed to get herself outside with other people. He was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Maybe she was paranoid, but she didn’t like his continued pursuit.

He got up from the chair and strolled over to where she was clearing off dirty paper plates and cups. He was much too close, and she surreptitiously glanced around for the exits. If things got weird, the best option she had was to drop the bag and run outside to the field where everyone else was.

“Why don’t you let Reed deal with the rest of this, and we’ll go have a drink? You have to be parched,” he said.

He reached out to brush the hair out of her face. She’d passed annoyance a few minutes ago and went straight into panic. Maybe some women were okay with a guy they really didn’t know touching them, but she didn’t like it.

“Please don’t do that,” she said.

She backed away from him, holding the garbage bag up to chest level in an effort to put space between them.

“Do what?” he said.

He took another step toward her. Her mouth went dry with fear, and she could feel herself shaking. Maybe she was overreacting, but she needed to get out of here. She set the plastic bag down next to another table and spun away from him.

“I’m going outside,” she said. “I’ll finish this later.”

As he reached out to grab her arm, she heard the glass door to the practice field open.

S
ETH HAD GLANCED
up from tying a little girl’s shoes and, through the panoramic windows that faced out on the practice field, saw Kade Harrison chasing Jillian around the cafeteria. Jillian looked terrified. She kept backing away from him, and he wasn’t getting the hint.

He reached out to grab the sleeve of Derrick Collins’s sweater.

“I’ll be back,” Seth said. “Gotta take care of something.”

It was more like rescuing Jillian from one of his overly competitive teammates, but he couldn’t control the surge of protectiveness and anger when he’d seen the look on her face. She was scared, and that asshole Harrison wasn’t leaving her alone.

“Fine,” Derrick said. “Leave me here with a bunch of five-year-old girls. I can take it.” Two of the little girls were clinging to his pants leg and waving one of the plastic-and-rhinestone tiaras at him.

“Man up and wear a tiara!” Seth shouted to him as he crossed the practice field to the building at a run. If he wasn’t so freaked out right now, he’d laugh at the mental picture of the six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound Derrick brought down by a few little girls.

“You just want another pink cookie!” Derrick shouted in response.

Seth hit the door into the facility at full speed. The look of relief on Jillian’s face when she saw him made anger spike through him anew. He wanted to rip Harrison’s head off.

“Get away from her,” he growled.

Seconds later, he’d crossed the room and shoved Harrison away from Jillian. Seth knew Reed would kick his ass if he spoiled the party for his guests, but he saw red. He wasn’t going to dwell on the consequences if he beat the shit out of Harrison, who’d had it coming for a long time. Getting grabby with Jillian was the least of Kade’s problems right now.

He felt Jillian’s hand on his arm. “Seth, I’m okay. Everything is fine. Stop it, you guys!”

“I’ll take care of this. Get behind me,” Seth told her, but Derrick’s voice rang out behind them.

“What the fuck are you doing? Knock this shit off. We have guests,” he informed them. He got between Seth and Kade, grabbed both shirt fronts in his big fists and pushed them away from each other. “You can kill each other during practice. Not now.”

The three men stared at each other. Seth felt Jillian’s hand still holding onto his arm.

“No means no, asshole,” Seth said to Kade, who laughed out loud in response.

“Tomorrow,” Derrick snapped.

Chapter Twelve

J
ILLIAN HURRIED THROUGH
the employees’ parking lot at the Sharks’ headquarters during a light rain a few days later. The typical Tuesday morning rush featured a new wrinkle: the dress pants she’d put on earlier were now so loose they fell off her. She was going to have to make some time later to go to the mall and buy a pair of pants that actually fit. She’d managed to cinch up the pants by poking an additional hole in one of her belts and pulling her now-baggy sweater down to hide this fact. Hopefully, the pants would stay up throughout the day.

She was still ignoring the scale, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was shrinking out of her wardrobe. She was going to have to weigh herself. She’d been avoiding it so far, just because she wasn’t sure she wanted to see a number. If she saw a number, that meant she’d start obsessing over it. She didn’t want to find herself running to a scale every day and worrying if it didn’t reflect her increased activity.

Seth strolled into the building minutes later and winked at her.

“Hey, Jill, it’s wet out there,” he said. “Is John in yet?”

She ignored the urge to tell him he had a keen eye for the obvious. “He’s out of town for the next couple of days. Would you like me to tell him you’re looking for him when he calls in?”

“I’d love that.” He plunked down in the chair next to her desk. “What’s up, Buttercup?”

She laughed at the silly nickname. The phones were quiet, Vivian was at a dentist’s appointment, and Jillian felt butterflies in her stomach, but she had to tell someone else besides Kari. “I need some new pants. The ones I have don’t fit anymore.”

“Is that so?” he said, but his eyes twinkled. “I wondered when you’d start to notice. Have you weighed yourself yet?”

She’d talked to him a couple of weeks ago about her hesitation to go anywhere near a scale. The typically teasing Seth greeted this news with silence and hadn’t said a word about it since. She wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or touched that he didn’t push her in an area that was still pretty sensitive.

“No,” she said. “I haven’t. I’m afraid I’ll be running in there every morning and be upset if there’s no change—”

“Then concentrate on feeling better. A number doesn’t define you.”

She bit her tongue before telling him that for women, numbers defined them and always would. Their ages. Their heights and weights. Their bra sizes. So many numbers. She shook her head.

“What happens if you don’t answer the phone for a few minutes?” he said.

“John gets mad at me.”

“He’s not here today. It’ll go to voice mail.” He got up from his chair and said, “I was just in the weight room. There’s nobody in there. If you want to get on the scale, now’s a good time. He patted her on the back. “If not, don’t worry about it.” He gave her a nod and loped away.

Two minutes later, she was shaking from head to toe as she approached the scale in the weight room. It was a good thing the place was (temporarily) deserted. She knew Seth was right about the fact that a number didn’t define who she was inside, but she was afraid of this one.

She took one huge step onto the metal base, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath. “Oh, God. I can’t look,” she muttered.

Maybe she should turn around, open her eyes, and run back to her desk before she saw the readout. Or maybe she should gather her courage and be proud of the small changes she’d already made, no matter what the number on the readout said.

She pried one eye open and glanced up as she told herself to breathe.

She’d lost thirty pounds.

L
ATER THAT DAY
, Jillian and Kari braved the rain to visit the local mall. Just like most women, Jillian was excited about getting some new clothes, but she was also worried about how much this trip was going to cost. She had a little extra money right now, but it didn’t mean she should go insane with it.

Kari led her through the swinging double glass doors of Nordstrom without a second thought.

“Come on. I can’t wait to see you pamper yourself a little, girlfriend. We’re going to dress up the new you. And then we’re getting a glass of wine to celebrate.”

Kari looked like she wanted to do a little dance on the all-weather-carpeted mat right inside the front doors. Jillian was happy about the fact she’d lost weight, but Kari was beside herself with glee.

“I’m just buying a few basics, Kari. I don’t want to spend a ton of money—”

“You’re buying well-made clothes instead of cheap crap. Everything you get will last instead of falling apart the first time it goes through the washer.” Kari led her to the escalator that went to the women’s clothing departments. “And we’re getting you a new bra. You need something that fits correctly and shows off the girls.”

“I was thinking a couple of pairs of pants and a few tops. Nothing crazy,” Jillian said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kari teased. “Let’s have some fun.”

A tall older woman in an effortlessly stylish outfit approached them as they walked into the Point of View department. “How are you this evening?”

“I’m fine,” Jillian said. “I need some tops and pants I can wear to the office. I’d prefer clothes that don’t need to be dry-cleaned.”

“She needs a pair of jeans too,” Kari chimed in. “And some casual clothes.” Kari elbowed Jillian a little. “What if Seth asks you out? You’ll have nothing to wear!”

“Do you mind?” Jillian said to Kari, but she had to laugh.

“Nothing she owns fits her anymore,” Kari said.

The saleswoman grinned at both of them. “Well, let’s get her some clothes that fit, shall we?”

After a little questioning about Jillian’s favorite colors, how dressy or casual the office was, and how much she’d like to spend, she and Kari were on their way to the dressing room when Jillian spied a bright turquoise asymmetrical one-button fleece wrap cardigan on a mannequin. She typically wore dark colors or anything that didn’t draw attention to herself, but she wanted that bright, pretty cardigan.

“I’d like to try that on too, please.”

“Yes!” Kari said and fist-pumped the air.

One hour later, the saleswoman had helped Jillian assemble several outfits that mixed and matched. Even better, she’d encouraged Jillian to try on a few things she would have avoided before—vivid colors; soft, clinging fabrics; and a bit sexier than her typical crew-necked long-sleeved sweaters and loosely fitting slacks. The saleswoman also helped Jillian find clothes she loved that wouldn’t blow a gaping hole in her savings account. Jillian was even fitted for a pretty new bra. Jillian’s new wardrobe was taken out to the check stand by another salesperson while the woman they’d been working with knocked on the dressing room door one more time.

“I know you said you weren’t sure about buying a dress, but every woman needs a little black dress,” she said. “You can dress it up or down. Plus, this one’s on sale.”

The dress was knee-length jersey with a scoop neck, long sleeves, and a gently flared skirt.

“Try it on,” Kari said.

“I’ve already spent so much money—”

The saleswoman held it out to Jillian. “I’ll leave it with you. If you change your mind and want to try it on, it’s here.”

“Don’t you still have some black heels at home?” Kari said.

The fabric was so soft in Jillian’s hands. The shoes she already had would look great with it. She’d have something pretty to wear if she and Seth ever went out on a date that didn’t require athletic equipment or sweating.

She pulled the dress off of the hanger. “Okay. I’ll try it on,” she said.

Two days later, Jillian was wearing one of her new outfits as she arrived at the office—the pretty turquoise cardigan over a coordinating soft knit top and a pair of black dress pants. She’d even treated herself to a cute bangle bracelet. Even more than the new clothes, the happiness she saw when she looked in the mirror thrilled her. Her self-confidence was building.

She was still trying to make a dent in the huge amount of work John had left for her. She’d shown up at the office this morning at seven o’clock; every effort she made on the list was interrupted by a ringing phone or yet more pleas for help from Seth’s teammates. She’d helped Tom, so obviously she was available to “help” every other guy on the team. Even more annoying, someone on the team managed to get her cell phone number, and he’d passed it around. The chiming of incoming texts was enough to make her want to bang her head on her desk. These guys didn’t need coaches. They needed a den mother—or ten!

I NEED A RESERVATION SEASTAR @ 8 FRI NIGHT. A LITTLE HELP?

WILL YOU GET AND MAIL MY LITTLE SIS A B-DAY GIFT? IT’S TOMORROW. SHE H8S GIFT CARDS.

THE INTERIOR DESIGNER PICKED COLOR FOR LVNG RM THAT’S WACK. HERE’S HER NUMBER.

If Seth was responsible for this, she was going to kill him.

She opened another expense spreadsheet and tried to concentrate on reconciling it with the receipts she’d finally managed to pry away from John before he left again; the chime of yet another text on her phone sounded.

EVAN’S BACHELOR PARTY NEEDS DANCERS. WILL YOU GET SOME FOR US?

“That’s it,” she said and slapped her phone down on a pile of paperwork in the middle of her desk. One of the more interesting side effects of making a few lifestyle changes was self-preservation. She wanted the guys on the team to like her, but they didn’t get to push her around. She grabbed the receiver on her desk phone, hit the extension for the weight room phone, and waited for someone to pick up.

A slightly out-of-breath voice answered. “Daffy Dan’s Pussy Par—”

“This is Jillian, John’s assistant,” she said. “Who’s this?”

“Morrison,” he said. He was the second-year offensive line player who spent most of his days tangling with Derrick Collins during practice. “What’s up?”

“Who handed out my cell phone number? I don’t appreciate it.”

All was silent on the other end of the line.

“Clay? Are you still there?”

Jillian heard Clay put his hand over the mouthpiece and muffled voices in the background. She waited for him to respond.

“Uh, Jillian, we’re not sure—”

“I’ll come in there and find out myself.”

She hung up the phone and set her line to voice mail. This shouldn’t take longer than five minutes, and she could explain to John if he happened to call while she was away from her desk. She stalked off to the weight room. She knew she shouldn’t be mad at them; the team really needed to hire someone whose entire job was to babysit what could sometimes be grown men who still lived like college students. She didn’t mind helping them out once in a while, but she drew the line at obtaining “dancers” for a bachelor party.

Jillian pushed through the glass door to the weight room. Twenty-five men had abandoned their lifting to form a knot in the middle of the room. They’d also managed to select a spokesman in the two minutes it took to get from her desk to the weight room door.

Zach Anderson stepped forward and extended his hand to her. “Jillian, we didn’t mean to upset you. We apologize.” She saw his bashful grin. “We’ll quit driving you nuts.”

“Yeah,” Clay said.

“You do a lot for us, and we appreciate it,” Caleb said. Caleb was dating Zach’s youngest sister, Whitney. Jillian wasn’t surprised he was backing Zach up.

“I still need some help with a paint color. It looks like baby barf all over my living room! I’ll pay you,” Terrell said. He whipped a money clip out of his workout shorts pocket. After a glare from the twenty-four other guys, he put the cash away.

“T, she’s not an interior designer.”

“Taylor’s going to kick your asses if you keep bugging her,” Drew McCoy said.

Jillian held up both hands. “Okay. Here’s my new policy. First of all, who decided to give the entire team my cell number?” She glanced around at a lot of foot-shuffling. They wouldn’t look at her. “Great. How would you feel if I gave out your cell numbers?”

“Not cool.”

“I’d be pissed.”

“Don’t think about it, girl.”

“All right, then.” She took a deep breath. Three months ago, she would have been running herself ragged to help them out because she wanted them to accept her. She knew enough about most of the guys on the team to know that if you gave them an inch, they’d take a mile. They didn’t respect anyone who didn’t stand up to them. She wanted their respect. “I like you all, but I’m not your mama, your sister, your girlfriend, or your wife. This is my workplace.” She let that one sink in for a minute or so. She glanced at Grant, the backup QB, who hadn’t looked at her since she walked into the weight room. “I respect your time and your privacy. You should respect mine too.”

She glanced around to see twenty-four heads nodding in agreement. Grant didn’t nod.

“Got it,” Derrick Collins said.

“Absolutely,” Clay said.

“Thank you, Miss Jillian,” Caleb told her.

“I have to get back to work now. I’ll talk with all of you later,” she said and turned to leave the weight room. She heard the low murmur of male voices as she opened the door to the lobby.

“I guess this means she’s not finding us some strippers for E’s bachelor party.”

A
COUPLE OF
hours later, Jillian heard Seth’s voice behind her.

“Hey. Let’s get out of here for the night.”

“I still have to do my workout,” she said. She’d rather curl up on her apartment couch with a blanket, a good book, and CB, but it would be at least another hour before she could get some time to herself.

“Sometimes it’s good to play hooky,” Seth told her. “Come on. I want you to see my house.”

“There’s all this work—”

“It’ll wait until tomorrow,” he said.

Twenty minutes later, Seth turned onto a tree-lined street with rolling lawns and perfectly maintained landscaping that framed huge homes. She’d heard about this Bellevue neighborhood, but she’d never actually been here before.

Seth pulled into one of the driveways, shut off the ignition, and turned to Jillian.

“Is this your house?” she gasped.

“Of course it is,” he said. She stared at him. “It’s just a house.”

“Yeah, and my entire apartment probably fits in your broom closet.”