Dare to Touch (3 page)

O
livia worked through the morning, but as lunchtime crept up on her, she found herself watching the clock. As much as she’d been fighting it earlier, she was looking forward to going out with Dylan and exploring this thing between them.

Despite the fact that she’d been expecting him—she’d taken a moment to freshen her makeup and fix her hair—when she heard the knock at her door, she nearly jumped out of her seat.

Glasses on or off, she wondered, then quickly pulled them off. “Come in!”

Instead of the man she’d been expecting, her brother strode into the room.

“You’re not Dylan.” Olivia couldn’t hide the disappointment from her voice.

Her usually stoic brother’s lips turned up in a grin. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

She wouldn’t touch that comment. “What brings you by?” And how could she get rid of him before her lunch date showed up?

“Got an emergency with Big,” Ian said, speaking of their trouble-prone tight end, Marcus Bigsby, called “Big” by his fans and the media because of his massive size. The guy was six six and two hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle, though still light on his feet.

Big was good-looking, charming, and had developed into an even more phenomenal player in the two years he’d been in Miami. The media and fans loved his oh-shucks attitude. Girls flocked to games to see the golden-haired star player. And the team threw big money his way as part of his renewed contract.

“Uh oh. What happened this time?”

Ian straightened his tie. “There was a party at his house last night. The neighbors called the cops. When they showed up, his cousin’s friends were urinating in the neighbor’s fountain.”

“Eew.” Olivia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“That’s Wendell. Trouble every which way you look at him,” Ian muttered.

And therein lay the source of the team’s problem with Big. He’d been drafted by the Thunder after his star turn with the Oklahoma Sooners in college. A country boy, he lacked city smarts, didn’t know what to do with the money he made, and he was overly susceptible to being used, which often led to stupid choices and negative publicity. Most of which had been instigated by his cousin, Wendell, who had been sent to accompany Marcus to
the big city
, as his family called Miami.

Big was one of the youngest of seven brothers and sisters, and Wendell was only a few years Big’s senior, with none of the player’s charm or likability. Since he’d been the football star of the Bigsby family until a high school injury had sidelined him, Wendell seemed to think Big owed him a part of his career. He certainly didn’t have Big’s best interests at heart. He saw dollar signs in his cousin and used him for them. There were rumors that Wendell was involved with the Miami drug scene. But all Big knew was his cousin was family, someone he owed, and someone he naïvely trusted. In other words, Wendell was trouble.

“What’s the plan?” Olivia asked her brother.

They’d spoken to Big about the problem before, fined him when appropriate, and tried to counsel him. In fact, they’d enrolled him in the team’s program that taught players money management and other skills they’d need post-football career. Her half brother, Alex, had paid special attention to Big, hoping to help him out. Anything to get his head on straight.

Olivia drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought. “As long as Wendell is in the picture, I can’t see things changing any time soon.”

“That’s the plan. Coach Carter is going to tell Big either Wendell goes home immediately, as in before the Pro Bowl, or he’s benching him next season.”

Olivia’s eyes opened wide. “That will kill him,” she murmured.

“Hopefully it’ll be the push he needs.” Ian glanced at his watch. “Carter’s leaving in five. Meet him in the parking lot.”

“Wait. What?”

“Big looks up to Coach, but he likes and trusts you. He didn’t want to believe Alex when he told him the girl Wendell hooked him up with was a prostitute, but he believed you.”

Olivia sighed. “He’s such an innocent. He couldn’t believe the girl didn’t like him for him. I had to explain to him that she was bought and paid for. Because as usual, when Big needed him, Wendell was nowhere to be found.”

And Olivia had discovered him in a restaurant near the stadium, waiting for a woman who had no intention of showing up because she hadn’t been paid. It had taken her awhile to put things together, but after a word with a couple of his teammates, she’d figured it all out. That had been an awkward conversation, but someone had to have it, and his teammates would have just ribbed him mercilessly.

“Okay, I’ll go, but why now?”

“Because Coach wants to go now. Sorry, Liv. We need you for this.”

She nodded. “Give me a minute to cancel my plans.” She scowled at her brother.

And when he turned his back and walked out, she stuck her tongue out at him behind his back. The babyish gesture didn’t make her feel any better, but childhood habits died hard.

It figured. Just when she decided to take Riley’s advice and explore her attraction to Dylan, work intruded.

*     *     *

Dylan wasn’t happy about his canceled lunch date, but he understood Olivia’s reason. He already knew he’d have his hands full with Marcus Bigsby in Arizona for the Pro Bowl trip next week, and if she could help convince the kid to send his cousin away, his job would be much easier. Dylan was only thirty, but when he watched the naïve tight end, he couldn’t help but think of him as a kid. Dylan had had more life experience in his teenage years than Marcus had had in his entire life.

Dylan shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to eat in the cafeteria, so he figured he’d go visit his ex. Meg had left a message that she wanted to talk to him, and now was as good a time as any. He could have just called, but he’d heard the tension in her voice, and Meg had a tendency to find trouble. More like she had a tendency toward what she called
bad boys
who brought trouble along with them.

She usually ended up hurt and came crying to him. Sucker that he was for women in distress, beginning with his sister, he usually rode to her rescue.

He walked into the kindergarten class where Meg taught, knowing she had free time for lesson planning. Her found her picking up finger paint cans and moving them to a cabinet in the back of the room. Her light brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she hummed as she made her way around the tiny tables she was cleaning.

He cleared his throat, announcing his presence. “Hi, Meg.”

“Hi!” She spun around to face him and grinned. Paint-covered hands in the air to keep from getting him dirty, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Let me just wash up. What brings you by?”

“Umm, you left a message saying you wanted to talk?”

She glanced at him apologetically. “You didn’t have to come in person.”

“I know. I had the time.”

She rinsed her hands in a tiny sink and finally joined him at her desk. “Half my tuna?” she asked, reaching for a bagged lunch and pulling out a Ziploc bag.

He nodded and shrugged. “Can’t say it’s the lunch I had planned, but why not?” They settled into chairs and sat in silence, sharing her homemade sandwich.

High school sweethearts, he and Meg had broken up to go to college. When they’d reconnected years later, they’d tried to pick up where they’d left off, but it hadn’t worked, and they’d ended up agreeing that the old spark was gone. However, they made for good friends, and it worked for him.

“I have got to find something else to make for lunch. I’m tired of tuna.” Meg crumbled her foil up and tossed it into the trash.

“Okay, now that lunch is over, what’s wrong?”

She rose and strode over to a pile of construction paper and began hanging up her students’ drawings, not answering him right away. A clue all in itself.

“Is it Mike?” he asked of her live-in boyfriend. “What did that asshole do now?”

She didn’t turn around to face him as she spoke. “A sudden boys’ weekend in Vegas. With money he never seems to have for us,” she said, sounding defeated.

Dylan hated how that lazy bastard used her. “I thought he worked weekends. Isn’t he the foreman on a construction crew? How does he have free time to go party?”

She dipped her head. “Yeah. About the job… He said he prefers doing hands-on work and stepped down from that position.”

Dylan grunted. “In other words, he was demoted or fired.”

“I don’t know that for sure.”

“Did you ask him not to go?”

She nodded. “He blew up at me. Said he needed a break and to back off. Then he apologized and promised to make it up to me when he got back.”

Dylan stood and came up beside her. “Why do you keep picking these losers? Don’t you know you deserve better?” he asked.

The conversation was reminiscent of words he’d used with his mother … before she’d packed up and left them for good.

Meg turned to him, eyes watery, and he pushed the old memories aside.

“You were the last decent guy I picked. Sometimes I think I’m trying to find a better you.” She laughed, grabbed a tissue from her desk, and wiped her eyes. “Why couldn’t we be good together
together
?” she asked.

He thought of a certain brunette with knowing eyes and a wide smile and knew there was no one else he wanted to be with. “We grew up, Meggie,” he said, using his old nickname for her. One nobody used anymore.

She nodded. “I know. Kissing you now would be like kissing my brother. If I had one,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

He more than felt the same way. “Mike’s taking advantage of your generosity, not to mention your pocketbook.” The guy didn’t pay rent, rarely kicked in for food or anything else, and now he’d likely lost his job but was off to party in Vegas. None of which meant things would be changing any time soon. “Kick the bastard out the minute he gets home. And be more careful with your picks next time,” he said as sternly but as gently as he could.

She nodded, but he knew it would never be that easy. With Meg, drama seemed to follow.

“Thanks for coming over. You always know how to give me that shove in the right direction.” She leaned in and hugged him tight, her cheek rubbing against his.

The way she lingered told him more than anything how hard a time she was having. “Hang in there.”

“I will. Talk to you soon. And thanks again.”

“I’m used to being your sounding board.”

“More like my knight in shining armor, but don’t worry. I intend to find one who really belongs to me one day.”

He shook his head and laughed before heading back to the stadium.

Dylan had a lot of work to do, but he stopped by Olivia’s office on his return. Their lunch might have been canceled, but he wasn’t finished with her. Not by a long shot.

He knocked, because she deserved a little heads up, and let himself in before she could reply—because why give her too much time to pull her defenses together? He caught her at her desk, glasses on, in front of the computer screen.

She glanced up, and he got what he wanted, an unbridled look at her initial reaction. Startled pleasure before she wiped her expression clear. “Dylan. What brings you by?”

He started slowly. “How’d your meeting with Big go?”

She pinched her nose and sighed, her concern for the player all too obvious. “He really doesn’t understand that Wendell is bad for him. It’s sad, really. Marcus is one of those players who got through college because the teachers looked the other way with his grades.” She shook her head. “So added to lack of a solid education, he’s got no street smarts at all. There’s not a bit of slyness in him.”

“Because they all went to Wendell,” Dylan muttered.

Olivia nodded, her eyes sad. “Yeah. But between Coach’s bad cop and my good cop routine, we convinced him he needs to stand on his own and get rid of his cousin.”

“He understands what’s at stake?”

She spread her hands out on the desk. “He should. We made it clear.”

“So no more prostitutes he believes are real dates coming in and stealing the Rolex he neglected to put somewhere safe?”

She managed a smile at that memory.

“And no more arrests when Wendell and his buddies start a fight at a club?” he continued. Big had a history of following his cousin into trouble, strictly out of loyalty.

“You know what?” Olivia asked. “I believe that without Wendell around, he’ll have more time to focus on his training, his game, and on Alex and Madison’s career and lifestyle programs. He has the chance to really learn something productive about how to save money for the future and how to live his life during and after his time playing football.”

She finished her passionate speech, dark eyes flashing with the intensity of her beliefs. Her cheeks flushed, and of course, she had to lick those sexy red lips. Dylan couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s that grin for?” she asked.

“You really care for Big. It’s sweet.”

She blushed at his compliment. “I just want him to succeed at more than football.”

He settled a hip against her desk. “This is so much more than a job for you, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “I grew up wanting to be like Ian and, later, Alex, after I met him. Not as in I wanted to play, but I wanted to be a part of the sport. Honestly, when I was younger, I think learning the game and tagging along after my older brother gave me something to focus on when my dad was away traveling.”

He nodded, listening, wanting to hear more.

“And then when I found out about Dad’s other family … football was something that had nothing to do with him.” She turned away, obviously embarrassed at the admission.

But he was grateful for the reveal and the insight into what made her tick.

“What about you? What made you get into the sport?” she asked before he’d even formulated a reply to her story.

He swallowed a groan. He should have realized she’d want to know something deep about him.

He cleared his throat. “I guess you could say football was a good distraction for me too. Kept me out of the house and gave me a goal and potential security for the future.” And that’s all he wanted to get into at the moment. “Now, you canceled our lunch today. How about you make it up to me?”