His Seduction Game Plan (10 page)

She returned the embrace, feeling for the first time that she'd found something she hadn't known she'd been searching for. She'd found something in Hunter that made her feel no matter how different they were they could overcome all obstacles.

When they woke in the morning, she put last night's dress back on and Hunter drove her home. She stood in the doorway and watched until his car wasn't visible anymore before going into the house.

She hadn't had a chance to tell him about her decision to let him go through Coach's stuff. But once she showered she would. It was a late summer day with the sun shining down. This was the kind of day where anything was possible, she thought. Anything at all.

Eleven

A
s she walked through the house, Ferrin hummed the song that had been on in the car when Hunter dropped her off. She had her shower and then went into the kitchen where Joy had prepared his breakfast tray. Joy wasn't in the room, so Ferrin took it and went upstairs.

“Hello, sunshine.” Her father's voice was a little stronger this morning. After their lunch downstairs before she'd gone to San Francisco, he'd relapsed. He wouldn't leave his room and he scarcely spoke to her.

Ferrin set the tray down on the side table and went to open the drapes.

“Good morning, Dad. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better. What did you do yesterday?” he asked.

She picked up his tray and brought it over to him. She plumped the pillows behind him.

“I spent the day in San Francisco with a friend,” she said.

Why was she reluctant to mention Hunter's name?
Lying.
She really didn't have the stomach for it. Maybe she was imagining that her father would have a negative reaction. But she didn't want to talk about Hunter until she figured out if the feelings she had for him were real.

They felt real. To be honest she had a hard time not thinking about him as she'd had her shower and then gotten dressed to come and visit her dad.

It was a new day but the magic of the night before seemed to cling to her. For the first time she felt as if she'd found a man she could trust. And if she wasn't mistaken, Hunter felt the same about her. She thought back to the way he'd held her last night, keeping her close to him, as if he never wanted to let her go.

“That's nice. Did you have a good time?” Coach asked.

“I did,” she said, perching on the edge of the guest chair and sipping her coffee.

“Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Hunter Caruthers has asked to be able to go through boxes of stuff sent over from the college. He's looking for a videotape that was in one of the boxes. Would that be okay?”

“What boxes?” he asked. His eyes looked a little cloudy and it was easy to read the confusion on his face.

“Just some old files and videotapes from your coaching days. I'd like to pick some things to give back to the college for your tribute. Someone from the college was asking for that, too.”

“I don't want the tribute,” he said. “Who called from the college?

“Ferrin?”

“Sorry, Coach,” she said. “It was the acting head of the football program, Graham Peters.”

“Graham Peters. That boy doesn't know a pig from a pigskin. I can't believe they want him to organize a tribute to me.”

“Well, we could have more input if you'd let me go through the boxes. Maybe I'll ask a few of your former players to come and help me. I feel like those men know you best.”

Once Hunter had a look in the boxes she'd know if he was sticking around for her.

But a part of her felt as if last night had changed that. That he was no longer here because of practice tapes or old files. They'd had sex—soul sex, she thought. She hoped it was the same for him.

But she was afraid to trust her feelings. Afraid to believe she was enough for Hunter. And as she glanced at the big man in the bed, her father the coach, she knew that was the legacy of their broken relationship.

If she were alone she would have probably cursed. But she wasn't. She was waiting for her father's answer.

“Some of the players? Have they been by to see me?” he asked.

“Yes. But when you're not feeling well, we turn them away.”

He was very lucid and there was an expression on his face that she really couldn't identify. She wished now she'd never asked. If he said no what was she going to do?

“No.”

“Dad—”

“I don't want to rehash the past. I already told the college and I'm telling you, I'm not going to do it.”

She found it hard to reconcile the man who had a trophy room downstairs to this man who was pushing his fruit salad around on his plate and saying he didn't want to be honored for the sport he loved.

“You spent your life pursuing this,” she said, quietly. “I wish I could understand this decision.”

He put his fork down and turned his head away from her and for the first time she saw her father as a man. Not the demanding, larger-than-life coach he'd always been but someone fallible with feet of clay.

“I'm not that man anymore,” he said. “Why is it so important to you? I know you don't care about football or another award for me.”

“You're right, I don't. I just want to feel like all those years you chose football over me were worth it. I want to maybe see something in your coaching years and those teams that you gave all your time to that will make me understand why I wasn't good enough.”

She got to her feet and strode to the door. She'd said too much. She knew Coach didn't like emotional outbursts.

“Ferrin.”

“What?” she asked.

“I was the one who couldn't measure up, not you,” he said.

She wanted to believe him but a lifetime of being second best made it really hard. “I wish that were true.”

He cursed and she opened the door to step out into the hallway. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. A part of her, the lost little girl inside her, felt a little relief at what he'd said, but the adult—the woman—knew the words were too little, too late.

* * *

Joy waited at the bottom of the stairs. The housekeeper looked worried.

“Are you okay?” Ferrin asked, hurrying over to her.

“Yes, I was watching
E! News Daily
while I made your father's breakfast,” she said.

“Did one of the celebrities you follow die?” Joy was seriously into the people she followed. She talked about them as though they were her friends and family. When Justin Bieber started having trouble with the law, she had been very upset. She'd thought he needed a hug and a good talking-to.

“No. That's not it,” Joy said. “Ferrin, you know that player who stopped by to see your father... Hunter Caruthers?”

“Yes. He's the friend I went to San Francisco with. We had a really nice time,” Ferrin said, not sure where Joy was going with this.

“Come into the kitchen,” Joy said.

“You're freaking me out a little,” Ferrin admitted. “What's up?”

“I was hoping that he would have just left us all alone or maybe told you himself,” Joy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember ten years ago there was a coed murdered at the college? Two of your dad's players were arrested for the murder,” Joy said. “Hunter was one of those men. His girlfriend was the woman they found dead.”

“But the charges were dropped and he was released. Hunter told me all about this. He's innocent.”

Joy looked confused. “I'm sorry. I just... I saw you both leaving Seconds on
E! News Daily
and I realized...well, I was afraid you didn't know. And the reporter said the authorities were thinking of reopening the case against Hunter. There's new evidence that he broke up with the murdered girl right before she was found dead. He's always claimed he was too drunk to remember what happened that night but people are now saying that was a lie.”

Ferrin froze. Hunter had never told her that he broke up with Stacia. Granted, he hadn't told her much beyond the basic facts. Could it be that he was trying to get at her father's stuff to destroy the evidence instead of prove his innocence? A chill ran through her body.

“Thank you, Joy.”

“It's okay, honey,” she said. “I don't know much more beyond that.”

“Thank you. I'm going up to my room.”

“Do you want me to bring you anything? Maybe a cup of tea?” Joy asked.

“No,” she said. She wasn't in the mood for tea. She needed to process what she'd just learned. What did it mean? Could she really trust Hunter? And, for that matter, could she stand the harsh attention of the media that Hunter attracted? It was a stark reminder of how different their two worlds were.

She entered her bedroom. It had no reminders of her childhood since she'd barely spent two weeks here every year when she was growing up. She went to the armchair near the window and sat down. All the happiness she'd felt earlier had dried up. Gone.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. A text from Hunter.

Dammit, she didn't know what to say.

She tossed the phone on the bed and stared out the window. The sky was bright and sunny and in the distance she saw the ocean and the ragged coastal cliffs. If she stood at the window she'd be able to see the cove where she and Hunter had paddleboarded to.

She wasn't a California girl. She wanted to be back in her landlocked home in Texas with the big sky easily visible to her after just a short drive. Texas...that was where she was safe. Not here. Where everything was too complicated.

She had come to take care of her father because her conscience wouldn't let her do otherwise. But now she realized she was chasing something that she'd never get. Something that had always been as elusive as her ability to catch a football. She'd stumbled, fallen and fumbled the ball. There was no way to win this game, and she was throwing in the towel before she collected any more injuries.

She got to her feet, went to her closet and grabbed out her battered suitcase and packed it. She didn't hesitate or try to convince herself otherwise. She had to leave.

Run away.

She was a coward, she thought.

But was it cowardly to just protect herself. She'd fallen for Hunter. Hook, line and sinker. But he wasn't telling her the whole truth. Had he been playing her? And was it a deadly game?

Why was it so hard to fall in love with a decent man?

Had her father damaged her so much that she didn't think she deserved one? Even when she'd thought she'd found a man who was different...she was still the loser.

She picked up her phone, entered the code to open it and hit the button to call Hunter's number. She wanted to hear his voice when she asked him why. She didn't want a text message full of excuses or lies. Pass fake—that's what he'd told her about in football. But her eyes were open now and she wasn't about to let herself be distracted again.

* * *

Hunter hadn't gone far after he'd dropped Ferrin off, just driven down to the beach where they'd gone paddleboarding and parked his car in the nearly empty parking lot. He saw a few battered cars that he assumed belonged to the surfers who were out catching waves before they had to go to their day jobs.

He put the seat back and his sunglasses on. He was tired and he had a headache. He had texted Ferrin just to see if she had seen the breaking news that he'd gotten an alert about on his phone from the ESPN app. But she didn't answer. He also sent a text to Kingsley warning him that they might never have access to Coach's old files now. Kingsley texted back that they would find the information another way. And then asked if he wanted to talk.

Hell, he did want to talk. To Ferrin. But he had no idea if she was going to talk to him ever again.

The reporter had all but implied that he and Kingsley were about to be rearrested. And though Hunter knew it was an exaggeration, what would Ferrin think? He hadn't told her the whole truth about Stacia and the breakup. About the guilt that prevented him from getting too close to any woman.

Until now.

His phone rang a few minutes later and he glanced at the caller ID.

Ferrin.

She knew.

He answered the phone. “Hello.”

“I guess you know what I'm calling about,” she said. He heard her voice tremble and then she took a deep breath.

“Can I see you? I feel like we should have this conversation in person.”

“I don't think that's such a good idea. Is the report on TV true? Why didn't you tell me that you broke up with Stacia the night of the murder?”

“I couldn't. The shame is still too much for me to deal with, let alone talk about. That's why I need to access Coach's stuff. ”

“Or are you trying to get to it to hide something?”

“How could you say that? Do you really think I killed Stacia?”

“I don't know what to think anymore. I'm just in way over my head and need some time to sort it out.”

She disconnected the call.

He rubbed his hand over his chest. His gritty eyes stung so he pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and rubbed them. The sun was bright today, seeming to mock him. But then California had never been great for him. He had moments of great triumph followed by...well, depths he hadn't ever anticipated. Maybe that was his problem.

He'd been busy working his game plan, trying to convince Ferrin to do what he wanted, and he'd screwed up. He should have realized with a woman like her he couldn't play a game.

He put his seat back into position and drove out of the parking lot. The traffic was starting to get heavier and he had to pay attention as he drove through a school zone and then by the community center that Gabi and Kingsley were building. He saw the seeds of the future there and knew he couldn't just drive away from Ferrin.

That's how he ended up at Ferrin's house.

It was no longer Coach's house to him. It was Ferrin's.

Hunter sat there on the street instead of parking in the driveway. He was tired. He'd had no time to plan but he had to see her. He had to explain.

His iPhone had a video feature and he thought that maybe if she saw him instead of just hearing his voice, she'd understand.

He took the phone out and used the front-facing camera. He looked rough and tired. Broken. And he was. Stacia's death had brought him to his knees and he would have thought that nothing else could. But this...this thing with Ferrin was another blow.

He hit Record and then nodded at his reflection.