Running Back (4 page)

“Oh, I remember you.”

My eyes started to his, and we both stared at each other for a
drawn out moment. Heat filled my cheeks. Did that mean I’d been so obnoxious I’d
been impossible to forget?

He cleared his throat and looked away. “What are you doing
here?”

“Rachael Hamilton invited me.”

He glanced behind him. I followed his gaze to find Rachael
Hamilton watching us with open curiosity. She quickly ducked behind her wine
glass, which did exactly nothing to hide her.

When Mike turned back to me, his eyes glinted, hardness shining
beneath the soft gold sparks. “How’d you meet Rachael?”

I pushed my hair back self-consciously. “I ran into her at the
draft.”

“What were you doing at the Draft?”

I stared at him. “Watching. Why? What do you think I was doing
there?”

For the first time since I’d met him, a hint of embarrassment
heightened his color. “I thought—maybe—you wanted to talk about Kilkarten.”

I lifted my chin, feeling my cheeks warm to match his color.
“Why? Do
you
want to talk about Kilkarten?”

For a long moment, we just stared at each other, and my heart
rate increased. Then he finally stepped back. “Come on in.”

Okay. I was going to act all collected. Cool. Like Indiana
Jones, minus the fedora.

I failed after two seconds. “If you
want
to talk about Kilkarten—”

“I don’t.” He interrupted me almost before I finished the last
syllable, with so much force I drew back. “I don’t talk about Kilkarten.”

Chapter Four

I swallowed and nodded as he turned his back and walked deeper into the apartment. I felt strange and intensely curious. What did that mean? Not “I don’t
want
to talk
to you
about Kilkarten” but a straight out “I don’t
talk
about Kilkarten.”

Or maybe I read too much into things.

I stepped clear of the entrance and stopped, stunned at the apartment, a massive open space with bright wooden floors and a glass wall overlooking Central Park. Laughter and steam and spices filled a copper and chrome kitchen at one end, while two dozen famous faces ranged throughout the room.

I looked for Rachael, but she was over in the kitchen, clearly giving very pointed directions to a set of two defensive tackles twice her size. They seemed to be concerning tableware.

“Let me guess,” someone said behind me. “Friend of Rachael’s.”

Linebacker Abe Krasner grinned at me from beneath a halo of dusky brown curls and held out a beer. I was very good; I didn’t gape or pinch myself or anything, even though the last time I’d seen him he’d been preventing a game-losing touchdown.

“Yeah.” I took the bottle and tried not to sound too star struck. “I am. Sort of. I’m Natalie.”

“Abe,” he said, in case I lived under a rock. “Are you the archaeologist?”

Archaeology small talk for the win. I smiled brightly, back on firm ground. “That’s me.”

Abe’s easy going manner put me at ease within minutes, and he introduced me to several other players. Within another twenty, Rachael appeared, a tall, quiet woman at her side who she introduced as Alexa. Alexa was the grad student from Chicago, and I probably could have talked to her all night. We did talk for a full hour before dinner was ready. I didn’t often run into people who not only cared about my research, but understood it. When I had to explain archaeology or Iron Age history to people that didn’t study it, I felt like I was translating everything into another language, one neither me nor my listener understood very well.

Of course, it went both ways. Once I asked one of my earth science friends to describe what she did, and she basically told me I would never understand.

When Ryan hollered from the kitchen, everyone fell in like a well-ordered troop. Mike tried to seat me far down the table, but Rachael out-maneuvered him and we found ourselves directly across from each other. Abe dropped in on one side and lowered his voice. “Ryan’s nickname is the General, but I always thought Rachael would be called the Commander.”

I laughed too loudly, and clapped a hand to my mouth. Mike eyed me warily, and then shook his head and turned to smile at some tiny, beautiful brunette beside him.

Despite Rachael machinations, Mike and I didn’t talk directly to each other until the very end of dinner. Instead, everyone else spoke, mostly about their plans before training camp started up at the end of July. “Bri wants to go to Paris,” wide-receiver Malcolm Lindsey said, referencing his absent fiancée. He sent a look at Rachael. “Somehow that got in her head.”

“Wow, what a great idea,” Rachael said with patent transparency. She turned to Ryan Carter. “Interestingly enough, there’s a book fair in Milan that work’s sending me to in July.”

Ryan failed to suppress a grin. “You need to work on your subtly.”

“I don’t really think so.” She glanced at me. “You have any plans this summer?”

Only by sheer dint of willpower did I keep my eyes from lifting to Mike’s. “Um. Actually, I’m going to Ireland in two weeks.”

Mike coughed explosively. “You’re
what?
”

Rachael looked between us with quick eyes. “Oh?” She directed the question at me. “What part?”

I dug some of the sweet raisins out of my couscous. “A little town in Cork. Called Dundoran.”

Mike pinned me with those steel eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“
I’m
going to Dundoran.”

“Well,” I said delicately, very aware of the eyes of half the Leopards, “I’m sure it’s big enough for both of us.”

Mike snorted. “Why would you even go when you’re not excavating?”

“My advisor lives in Ireland. Even if we’re not able to dig, I’ll need to talk to locals and do research that will only be possible in the area.” I paused. “Of course, a dig would be preferable. There’s a wealth of information just waiting to be discovered.”

Mike set his fork down with a loud clatter. “Then it can wait a little bit longer.”

“You know,” I said, “there’s so much development going on that if it doesn’t get excavated now, there’s probably going to be a rushed contract archaeology dig before a bunch of condos are built there. A handful of state mandated archaeologists will go in, do a quick excavation, and they won’t even have finished typing up their notes by the time the bulldozers destroy everything. Wouldn’t you prefer the land’s protected?”

“You’re forgetting the most important factor—no one’s building anything there without my permission.”

“So why don’t you want anyone building anything?” Rachael asked.

Mike took a deep, frustrated breath and turned his gaze to the hostess. “Rachael.”

She smiled sweetly. “Michael.”

I watched, fascinated, as Mike O’Connor locked gazes with Rachael Hamilton, and then lost the anger that had been simmering toward boil. Just like that. One moment, he was ready to yell at me, and the next he was laughing and apologizing to Rachael, and throwing even me a sheepish grin, and he’d changed the topic to Rachael’s job without anyone really noticing.

After dinner, everyone migrated back toward the east side of the giant room, with the window overlooking Central Park. I hovered in a small circle with Rachael while Mike sat on a couch directly before the window.

“Sorry about Mike.” Rachael frowned
.
“He’s usually a lot more—charming—than he was tonight.”

I let out a scoff. “Charming? Him? Yeah, sure.”

Rachael looked at me consideringly.

“I bet that’s just his agent talking.” The wine felt warm and fuzzy, like a blanket draped over my sensibility. “A selling point. Each player needs a distinctive trait, something that will make them stand out. Mem’rable. Memorable.”

“Interesting. What’s Ryan’s?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “That he’s pretty.”

Rachael laughed until she had to sit down. “That’s true. But don’t tell him. He’s vain enough as is.”

Across the room, Keith got up, leaving the seat next to Mike open. I eyed it.

Rachael nudged me. “Go on.”

Okay. Yes. If he was going to Dundoran—and I was going to Dundoran—well, I’d done my research, and there was only one inn in the village’s vicinity. Better go over there and make nice instead of spending the next two weeks freaking out over what would happen if—when—we ran into each other across the pond.

When I plunked down beside him, his eyes immediately rose to mine.

I folded my hands in my lap and looked up at him, trying to think of the exact way to break the news.

He took one look at me and groaned. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Okay, that was totally fine too. I mimed zipping my lips and throwing away the key, with wide, exaggerated gestures and an unwavering gaze.

His brown eyes glinted with what might have been humor. “Good.”

I nodded and leaned back against the couch. My forehead wrinkled and a small, sad frown pulled at my mouth.

“What?”

I leaned closer, as though reluctant to admit a tragic truth. “You’re not as charming as everyone says you are.”

He scowled at me and took a long pull of his drink. “I’m charming when I want to be.”

I laughed.

He took another sip and thunked his drink down. And then, just like during dinner, everything about his demeanor changed. He propping his elbow on the couch back, he grinned down at me. “So do you do this to all your landowners? Chase them down and beg them to change their minds? Or am I special?”

“Kilkarten’s special.”

“Huh.” He leaned back, but kept his gaze trained on my face. Butterflies started fluttering around my ribcage. “You know, I don’t think that’s it.”

I tilted my head and he leaned close to my ear, close enough that I could feel his breath. “Admit it. You’re just here because you like me.”

“What?” I sat straight up.

He laughed. “What’s that look of alarm? Struck too close to home?”

I scowled at him. “I don’t like you.”

“You sure of that? Or you have a boyfriend?”

I wanted to lie and say yes, but the word wouldn’t come, and his smile broadened. But he released me from his gaze right before I could no longer breathe. “Don’t tell Rachael. She’d never admit it, but she likes to matchmake. See that girl over there?”

I followed his nod, feeling the slightest tinge of pink dusting my cheeks. “Yeah.”

“That’s Olivia Perez. Rachael met her at a farmer’s market. Or something. She’s been trying to set her up with Dylan for two weeks. Only,” he said, lowering his voice, “Rachael doesn’t know that Dylan’s been lusting after her friend Eva for months. Which he’ll never admit, ’cause she’s crazy about her boyfriend.”

My eyes skipped to all the involved players, feeling like I was watching a play.

“Rach’s real project is Abe. Abe
seems
like he’d be easy to set up—he’s friendly, eager to make Rachael happy, good guy all around, but he never stays interested in anyone too long.”

“Maybe he’s secretly in love with Rachael.”

He smiled at me. His gaze was direct and disarming, and my whole body flushed. “You know, I thought that too, but it’s much more of a sibling thing. No, I think there’s some girl from his past—which is funny, because Abe’s the least burdened person I’ve ever met.”

I studied Abe. He gestured wildly in the air as he told some story, and it made me laugh.

“You have a pretty laugh.”

My eyes flew to Mike’s. I could feel my heart in my chest, in my head, a giant beat that thrummed all through my body. Mike reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my jaw line. Heat pooled in my skin beneath his fingers and my breaths shortened. His thumb stroked the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Pretty eyes too. Like...like storm clouds.”

I jerked away from him, thrown out of the mad spell. “Don’t talk about my eyes.”

I’d stunned him. Even with my head floating somewhere above me body, I could tell that. People usually reveled in or laughed at cheesy lines about eyes. They didn’t get angry.

He laughed it off. “All right. So what is it about Kilkarten? It has to be something more than just research.”

How could I describe it? The green hills, the water, the sun spread across all of it... The draw of being somewhere else, somewhere beautiful and peaceful and not here, not with my parents and their vicious, vitriolic hatred.

I turned my glass in my hands. “Have you heard of the Iverni? And Ptolemy?”

He shook his head.

“Ptolemy was a second century Alexandrian who wrote about Ireland. Ivernis was one of the few cities he named, and the whole island used to be called after the people who lived there. Iouerníā—The Fertile Land. Pytheas, a Greek explorer, visited even earlier and called it Ierne.” There were barely any sources about Ireland and the ancient Mediterranean, but they gave rise to a contentious debate about whether Ireland and Rome had contact and trade. If the site I’d located was from the turn of the millennia, so many answers could be buried there. “I’m
positive
that the city of Ivernis is under Kilkarten. And I need to prove it this summer, while funding still exists. My advisor, Jeremy, can’t get any more money—he’s been unsuccessful for too long, and now most of academia’s decided he’s on a wild goose chase. Half mad with obsession to find a lost city. He’s
not
, of course. But I’m afraid that this might be our last chance to find Ivernis.”

Mike smiled slightly. “So you want to save your falsely ridiculed advisor. I
definitely
saw this miniseries on Netflix.”

I glared. “Don’t make fun. It’s all real. I’ve done the research, and the way the land was shaped, two thousands ago, made it
perfect
for Ivernis. The sources Jeremy’s dug up, notes in the margins of illuminated manuscripts about geography and location—we’re right. We’ve
found
it.”

“So it’s for fame and glory.”

I shook my head. “It’s for discovery
.
For
knowledge
. What greater motivator is there?”

He studied me. “Do you really believe that?”

I nodded emphatically. “That harbor can tell us things about a period of history, about a people, that we barely know anything about. I could bring that era back to life. Life from death. If that’s not magic, what is?”

He stared at me for a long, long moment. I had nothing left to say.

He stood abruptly. “I have to go.”

“Mike,” Rachael called out from across the room, and we both turned. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you get Natalie a cab?”

Apparently that was finally too much. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

And then Ryan Carter was there, drying his hands on a dishtowel, looking weirdly domestic and also like he would demolish anyone who hurt Rachael.

We took the elevator in silence. He walked out of the building ahead of me, and I had to hurry to catch up. I reached for his arm, hesitated, and then my hand fell away. Still, I couldn’t stop the words. “Mike, if you sign the papers, I will do anything.”

He slowed to a stop, and I stepped in front of him, beseeching him with my eyes and voice. He didn’t look away. “
Please.
”

His half-lidded gaze made me swallow. My toes curled in my boots while heat curled in my stomach. With his head tilted down like that, and standing so close, he took up my entire view. I could feel each breath he took, feel the heat in the tightly corded arm under my fingers.

And then he drew back. “Don’t ever promise anything.” He shook his head.

My shoulders tightened and I nodded, and then walked on. But everything moved too fast—the world, the lights—and I tripped and the sidewalk flew up toward my face.