The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (29 page)

“Can’t keep it to a hundred and forty characters?” Luke asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Can’t come up with a hundred and forty characters,” Gavin shot back.

“Sorry, man.”

Gavin waved his hand in casual dismissal and disappeared out the door.

“What was that about?” Miranda asked.

Luke shook his head. “A bestselling novelist with writer’s block.”

“Ouch. I wondered why there hadn’t been a new Julian Best book in a while.” How easy it was to talk to him again. His lips curved in sympathy with Gavin’s problem, and she had to force her gaze away to focus on getting into her boots. “Let’s move some cheese.”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, silently following her through the door into the holding room.

“Whoa! That’s one strong smell,” he said.

“You can almost taste the air.” Miranda sniffed. She’d come to love the cheese cave’s overload of scent.

Luke surveyed the shelves stacked with all shapes and sizes of cheese. “We’re going to need more help in here.”

“Two of us are enough.”

He turned sharply. “You’re not going to lift a single chunk of cheese. Just supervise.”

“Quarterbacking again?”

“What’s the point of having a bunch of athletes here if you don’t let them use what God and the weight room gave them?”

She climbed onto a high wooden stool. She was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to put up a fight.

His eyes widened. “You’re not going to argue?”

“I’m happy to sit down.”

Every line in his face softened as he walked toward her perch. Knowing he was going to touch her and knowing how she would react, she cast around for an escape route, but her back was against a wall, and two shelving units loomed on either side, trapping her.

“Miranda.” The low rumble of his voice vibrated through her. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I was a real jerk Friday night.” He cupped her shoulders ever so gently with his big hands. “Will you accept my apology?”

Shivers of delight ran through her, and her eyelids drifted closed as she savored the feel of his hands on her. Had he asked her a question? Something about an apology. “Yes,” she murmured.

“Thank you.” She opened her eyes just enough to see him bend his head toward her, so his lips brushed her forehead and then her cheek. Then his grip went tight, bringing her breasts hard against the wall of his chest and sending sparks of pleasure shimmering through her rib cage. He pushed his knee between hers, spreading her thighs around his hips as he moved in close. She felt the ache of emptiness low in her belly and the need to be filled by him.

“I’ve missed you. Missed this.” His mouth slanted over hers, his lips hard and warm and male.

She felt his touch as a blossom of heat in every molecule of her body. Yes, desire pooled inside her, but it was also the sense of being in the right place with the right arms around her. The resonant timbre of his voice, the silky thickness of his hair, the perfectly calibrated pressure of his chest against hers—all danced together and set her heart flipping in her chest.

“Ahem.”

A blush burned up Miranda’s cheeks and she tried to jerk away, but Luke’s grip didn’t loosen.

He moved his lips one inch away from hers to say, “Go away, Miller.”

“Boyo, I understand you want to win the bet, but it’s colder than a mother-in-law’s kiss outside.”

“So sit in the truck with the heater on,” Luke growled.

As much as she didn’t want to, Miranda wedged her hands against his chest and pushed. It was a token gesture, since she couldn’t budge the quarterback if he didn’t want to move. “Luke, they’re all waiting for us.”

She felt his body give against her palms and he lifted his head. “I really hate your guts, Miller.”

“I consider that a compliment from the Iceman.”

Luke released her and stepped back. “Suit up, jackass. I’m going to need your help in here.”

“Do
you
have a Twitter account?” the author asked.

“With three quarters of a million followers. My assistant runs it, so you’re safe.”

Gavin disappeared out into the changing room, where they could hear him rustling around.

Something the writer said surfaced through Miranda’s embarrassment. “What bet was he talking about?”

“Nothing. A stupid bar conversation.” But he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“What does it have to do with me?”

“Miller’s a troublemaker. Ignore him.”

“Take his advice. He’s correct.” Gavin slouched into the storage room dressed in a coverall and boots.

Luke gave him one of those icy stares that made Miranda shiver before turning back to her with a warmer look. “Where do we start?”

Her blush subsided as the two men loaded the cheese into containers and hauled them out to the door. Watching Luke’s hands carefully cradling her brother’s handiwork sent little tendrils of desire winding through her. When he bent and straightened, the too-snug coverall rippled over the shifting muscles of his back and thighs. The memory of how those muscles felt under his skin when he moved over her sent a flood of prickling arousal through her breasts and lower.

As he tramped past her laden with a stack of large cheddar wheels, Gavin Miller gave her a sly look, as if he knew what she was thinking. She yanked her thoughts away from Luke’s body and tried to make sense of his behavior toward her. He’d been almost standoffish until the passionate kiss. But even then she’d felt a reluctance in him, as though he hadn’t meant to do it.

A surge of power straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Once he touched her, he’d been unable to stop himself from wanting more. That was a rush. But he’d come here just to clear his guilty conscience. When that was done, he would return to the screaming fans, blazing lights, and adrenaline-fueled battles of his first love.

She couldn’t compete.

“That’s it for the cheese in here.” Luke squatted to check the lower shelves.

“I can’t believe you finished so quickly,” Miranda said, sliding off the stool.

“Many hands make light work.” The writer lounged against the doorjamb, his gaze traveling between the two of them.

Luke straightened with that controlled grace she loved so much. “Nice job of pitching in,” he said with a nod to Gavin.

“You thought I was just another pretty face.”

“I hear there’s hay to be stacked in the barn.” Luke gestured for Miranda to go ahead of him.

Gavin stepped aside before following them into the changing room.

“Can’t say I ever want to wear one of these again.” Luke struggled to strip off his coverall. Miranda gave in to temptation and helped ease the fabric off one of his shoulders, her fingers sliding over the swell of his biceps. He seemed to freeze for a moment before pulling his arm free. “Thanks,” he said in a clipped tone. “I’ve got the other one.”

Once again Miranda felt Miller’s gaze on her. When she met his eyes, he lifted one of his dark eyebrows and gave her a conspiratorial wink. Uncertain of how to respond, she smiled faintly. She found herself torn between liking his impish humor and feeling uneasy about the undercurrents that swirled around him.

When they walked outside, Kort stood by the open doors of the delivery van. “You want to make sure everything looks okay?” he asked her.

Miranda smiled at the blond giant. “You’re from Wisconsin, which means you already know more about cheese than I do. So close it up!”

A swirl of activity saw the van locked up and everyone loaded into the two vehicles. As she pointed the truck back down the lane, Luke spoke. “I don’t regret kissing you in there because it felt damn good, but it wasn’t my intention.”

She gripped the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. “What
was
your intention in coming up here?”

He shrugged. “Farming is hard work, and you’re just a little slip of a thing.”

His description of her was so sweetly old-fashioned that it chipped away some of the tension.

“I intend to get rid of Orin,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Astonishment made her jerk her gaze around to him.

He was staring forward, with his jaw set and the tendons in his neck drawn taut. “He’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve his job.”

He was riding his white horse to her rescue. She kept her thumbs hooked on the wheel but flexed her fingers wide as the knowledge washed over her like a warm Caribbean sea. Not that his gallantry would do her any good. “Orin owns the concierge service that the Pinnacle contracts with. If he loses the job, every other concierge there does, too.”

Luke muttered a curse and raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, leaving it entrancingly disheveled. “You could start a concierge service and hire them all back.”

She hoped to do something like that one day, but she didn’t have the capital yet. “It’s a nice thought.”

Luke huffed out a breath but kept his gaze forward. As the heater warmed the air, her nostrils caught his distinctive scent of citrus aftershave and strong, clean male. How did a person smell like strength? She inhaled, bringing it into her lungs and trying to etch it on her memory.

Pulling up in front of the barn, Miranda shifted the truck into park. Without looking at him, she said, “I’m glad you came.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught the movement of his head toward her. “I wasn’t sure you’d feel that way.”

The SUV bounced up beside them. “Thank God,” Miranda muttered as she opened her door and got out, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets and swallowing the yearning that was nearly choking her.

She hung back as Luke marshaled his squadron, reciting the tasks Patty had set for them and gauging each man’s expertise in this new territory. When he turned back to her, she had herself under control again.

“Okay, I’ll give you a tour of the barn,” she said, striding toward the gate. Kort leaped forward to open it for her, swinging it out just enough for a human to slide through without tempting the staring cows to make a break for freedom. “You’re a real farmer,” she said with an approving smile.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The rest of the men trooped through the gate, and Kort latched it closed.

Several of the cows took a few steps toward the group, their soft eyes lit with curiosity.

“That’s a nice-looking herd,” Kort said. “Calm. Your brother treats ’em right.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.” She started to pick her way across the semifrozen hoof-churned paddock toward the barn door. As she wobbled over a rut, she felt Luke’s firm grip on her elbow. A sizzle of pleasure rippled through her, making her skin tingle and her backbone soften.

She wished he wouldn’t touch her.

But he steadied her all the way into the barn. When he released her and stepped away, she had the urge to pull him back to her so she could wrap herself in his arms.

“Let’s get the feed and hay moved first,” Luke said.

He positioned a hay bale where she had a view of the crew and told her to sit herself down and stay there. “If you see us doing something wrong, say so,” he said. “Otherwise you’re not involved.”

With a few brief instructions, he had organized his crew and started the process. The giant football players tossed seventy-pound bales of hay and hundred-pound sacks of feed as though they weighed no more than a medicine ball. It was pure sensory pleasure to watch the flex of their muscles under sweatshirts and jeans.

Luke worked right alongside them, setting the pace. They joked and taunted one another, but they were clearly a team, and Luke was clearly their leader. Even Gavin Miller got absorbed into the group, his laughter floating over the good-humored insults. Miranda basked in the warmth of their camaraderie. It struck her that this was one thing Luke would miss when he retired, this sense of being a crucial part of something larger than himself. Especially since he didn’t have this kind of closeness with his own brother.

Her heart ached for him. Knowing this was a dangerous weakness, she jumped up from the hay bale. “I’ll go get some drinks. Hot or cold?”

She noticed that everyone, including Gavin, waited for Luke to speak. “I could go for some of that apple cider your sister-in-law mentioned this morning,” he said. “Cold, because I’ve worked up a thirst.”

There was a general murmur of agreement, so she jogged off toward the farmhouse.

Patty was in the kitchen, already putting together sandwiches and defrosting homemade soup. “Holy moly!” she said, putting down the bread knife and leaning against the counter. “Maybe I was wrong about you and the quarterback. He brought his teammates up here. To do farmwork.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“No, you weren’t wrong. He’s just feeling guilty,” Miranda said, shrugging out of her coat. “Where’s the big water cooler? They want cold apple cider.”

“Guilty about what? Dumping you? He could change that.” Patty went to the pantry and pulled out a large, insulated beverage dispenser.

Miranda still wasn’t going to tell her about being fired. “No, it has to do with my job, so I can’t tell you.”

Patty’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you didn’t have much contact with him on a professional level.”

Miranda gave her a little information. “He has relatives.”

“Interesting.”

Patty helped her fill the cooler and dug out some large plastic cups. As Miranda zipped up her coat again, her sister-in-law put her hands on her hips. “Guilt may be a powerful motivator, but I don’t think that’s the only reason he came here in a helicopter. On his day off. With three football players and a bestselling writer.”

As Miranda slogged back to the barn, with the cooler in one hand and the bag of cups in the other, she wished she could share Patty’s optimism.

Chapter 27

Lunch was a boisterous affair once Patty made her admiration for football clear. The men told war stories about their college days, their rookie years, and their Super Bowl journeys. Miranda was sure the tales were highly edited, but she enjoyed the glimpses into the life of a professional athlete. It became obvious that these men looked to their quarterback for leadership both on and off the field. No wonder he felt so responsible for everyone around him. Sympathizing with the pressures on him was another feeling she preferred not to have, so she banished it to a dark corner of her heart.

At one point Luke looked intently at Gavin and said, “None of this goes in a book.”

The writer held up both hands. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Bullsh . . . crap,” Luke said.

“As you know, my keyboard is collecting dust right now.”

“You’ll break through soon.”

Gavin gave a half nod and the conversation went back to football.

When the last roast beef sandwich and homemade brownie had been devoured, Luke stood up. “We’ve got more hay to stack.” He looked down the table at Miranda. “We can handle the rest of the job from here. You stay inside where it’s warm.”

She didn’t want to stay inside. She wanted to be out there, squeezing in memories of the last hours she would spend in his company. She lifted her chin. “I’ll help Patty clean up before I come out to check on your progress.”

The kitchen emptied swiftly, and Miranda lingered a moment by the window, watching the band of large men stride with athletic grace across the leaf-strewn grass of the yard toward the barn.

“That’s a sight that makes your ovaries dance, doesn’t it?” Patty said.

Miranda choked, and glanced over to find her sister-in-law gazing out the window over the sink. “I won’t tell Dennis.”

Patty turned with a grin. “Hey, just because I’m happily married doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty in all its forms.”

“I’ll go get the invalids’ trays,” Miranda said, wanting to avoid any further conversation about Luke. Despite begging from both husband and son, Patty had forbidden them from joining the lunch, saying that giving the football players their germs would be a poor way to express their gratitude.

She jogged up the stairs to find both bedrooms empty. “Where the heck—”

Two figures, one large and one small, came down the hall from the bathroom. “Are you all okay?”

“We’re just fine and dandy.” Dennis was grinning.

“That was so cool,” Theo said, his face bright with excitement.

Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Why were you both in the bathroom?”

“You should know,” Dennis said, steering Theo back into his bedroom. “Forced-air heat.”

Then she remembered. The heating ductwork for the bathroom came up through the kitchen wall. If you sat by the bathroom vent, you could hear everything that was said in the kitchen as if you were there. “So you heard all the stories.”

“Yeah. It was amazing,” Theo corroborated as his father tucked him into bed.

“I’m glad.” Miranda had felt bad that they were missing out on such an experience. She picked up Theo’s tray and followed Dennis into the master bedroom. Putting the tray on the dresser, she started stacking all the dirty dishes on top of it.

“What the hell is going on with you and Luke Archer?” her brother asked as he climbed into bed. “I mean, we have about fifty million dollars of athletic talent working in our barn, not to mention God only knows what Gavin Miller is worth.”

Miranda sighed and Dennis looked guilty. “Patty ordered me not to ask you, but I’m your brother.”

“He feels guilty because there’s been some trouble with my job.” Miranda saw the next question coming and trusted Dennis to keep a secret. “Caused by Luke’s brother. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“His brother must be a real jerk.”

Dennis’s loyalty spread warmth through her. “You’re a good brother. But I’m not going to hug you because I can’t afford to get sick.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be in here. I’ll feel like as big a jerk as Luke’s brother if you catch the flu.”

“Your fever’s down, so you shouldn’t be contagious anymore,” Miranda said.

“So why wouldn’t Patty let me come down for lunch?” he groused.

Miranda picked up the stacked trays and walked to the door. “Because she wanted to ogle all the football players without you there to cramp her style.”

Miranda was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate cupped in her hands, bracing herself as she heard the men’s voices approaching the back door. No matter how many people spoke, Luke’s rumbling Texas drawl stood out like a flow of sweet, golden honey. She wanted to bathe in it.

A tiny choke of a sob surprised her, and she gulped a mouthful of hot chocolate to wash it away.

She heard the door slam open and felt the clomp of their boots through the floor. Rising from the table, she went into the hallway, where the men were stripping off their coats. “What would you like to drink? Cold or hot cider? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”

They all requested cider. Except Gavin, who asked for tea. “I’ve had enough of being quarterbacked for today,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Patty bustled into the kitchen. “I’ve got fresh peanut butter cookies, too.”

The men surged for the kitchen door, but Gavin caught Miranda’s wrist and drew her back into the mudroom.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the empty hallway before he released her and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Look, I’m the least qualified person on the face of the earth to give advice about relationships. But I couldn’t help noticing a certain . . . tension between you and Archer.”

She felt a flush crawl up her cheeks. “It’s not—”

He held up his hand to silence her. “Clearly, it’s not going well, and I shouldn’t give him any help with his wager anyway, but you seem like a lovely young lady.”

There was that wager again, but Gavin kept on going. “And you seem to be foolish enough to care about him. So let me tell you something that you can use or not—he cares about you, too. He tried to convince us he dragged us up here because he owed you a favor, but I’ve been watching him all day. He’s been like an overwound spring every time you were present. And that is not typical of the famed Iceman.”

That impossible-to-kill hope fluttered to life again.

“He’s a fiercely hard-driving competitor, my dear, not a man you want to take on lightly. But you’ve opened up a chink in his armor. If you believe you can be happy with him, you should exploit it.” He gave her a shockingly genuine smile.

It was a lot to absorb, but the hope was spreading its wings now. “How?” She swallowed. “He’s gone back to football, and I’m just a distraction.”

“Ah, I’d come up with a scenario for you, but I suffer from writer’s block.” The writer straightened away from the wall and strolled toward the kitchen. “I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

Miranda stared after him, trying to imagine a way to deflect Luke from his firmly held decision to banish her from his life.

However, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t think of a way to break through the barrier Luke had built, because he wouldn’t let her get near him. Every time she found a way to approach, he used his quarterback’s skill at evasion to shift away from her. He never made it obvious, but she felt like they were two magnets with the same poles turned toward each other.

It wasn’t until Patty’s offer of dinner had been politely refused and the men were trooping out to the trucks that Luke stopped in the family room of the farmhouse. It was odd to see his big, golden presence amid the familiar hand-braided rugs, rickety old wooden chairs, and dated plaid upholstery. He seemed both at home and out of place.

Miranda halted, too, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Here was her opportunity to follow Gavin’s advice.

Luke folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the faded blue-and-red rug. “Your brother has a real nice place here.”

“But exhausting. I have to admit that the prospect of moving all that cheese had me on the verge of collapse. Thanks for saving me.” She took a step toward him.

He lifted his gaze and she nearly backed up. His eyes were icy pale. “Now that I’m out of the picture, you’ll find someone who can take you to a restaurant for dinner without getting interrupted a half dozen times or being hounded by the press. Someone who can talk about art and ballet with you. Someone whose brother doesn’t hate him.” His voice grew tighter with every sentence. “You deserve that.”

She took a deep breath. “What if I prefer someone who comes home bruised and needs the doctor I call for him? Someone who signs dollar bills for blue-haired ladies. Someone who can read Egyptian cartouches. Someone whom I love.”

She’d said it.

He flinched as though she’d backhanded him across the face. “It’s only been ten days. No one can fall in love that fast.”

Now she felt as though he’d slammed his big, football-tossing fist into her chest. “I guess
you
can’t.”

He shook his head and repeated, “No one can.”

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I never thought I’d be saying this to the illustrious Luke Archer, but you sell yourself short.”

She thought she saw uncertainty flicker across his face, but it was gone too fast to be sure. “We all have to make choices in life.”

That pretty well closed up any chinks in his armor.
Damn Gavin Miller.
She gave it one more try. “You can make different choices in the future.”

He looked away, his arms still crossed over his chest. “I owe my teammates my best.”

What could she say to that? She let her shoulders sag. “I hope you bring home the Vince Lombardi Trophy for the fifth time.”

He stood a moment longer, still not meeting her eyes, before he pivoted to walk out the front door.

Miranda wanted to sink into a heap of wretchedness and humiliation on the floor, but she owed the other helpers a thank-you. She smoothed her palms down the front of her jeans and forced herself to follow Luke outside.

He saved her further embarrassment by walking to the SUV and leaning against the hood while she said farewell to everyone else.

Gavin Miller came up and nodded his head toward Luke. “Look at him.”

The quarterback had his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest, and his face turned away. Every line of his body was a rejection.

The writer leaned down beside her ear. “He’s using every ounce of his iron self-control not to grab you and kiss you senseless.”