The Rookie: Book 2 The Last Play Series (8 page)

C
harity woke
from her nap to the sound of rustling. Jolting out of the chair, she toppled over the notebook and pen she’d bummed off of the hospital staff to start her article.

“Sorry.” Legend said, holding two bags and her grandfather’s record player.

Unbelieving, she stood. For a brief second she couldn’t speak. His rain-scented cologne smelled so good. All sane thoughts had fled, gone on vacation. They could have taken up residence in Bermuda for all she knew. All she could focus on were his eyes. That deep green. The color of the ocean she’d only seen in pictures or in documentaries. For some reason in his eyes she had a clear vision of that water, the sand smashed in between her toes, the sun, the happiness of what it would be like with him next to her. “What are you doing here?”

He got out the record player, put it on a chair, and plugged it in. “I’m like being a friend or something. Since we’re
friends
now, remember?” Pausing, he gave her a wide grin.

Her heart rate accelerated like she’d just run a fifty-yard sprint.

He took the other bag from her hands and pulled out some Styrofoam containers. “I got you something to eat because we jumped out of a plane this morning, and you’re probably starving.” He shoved it at her and then handed her a fork. “And don’t give me some crap about how you don’t eat carbs because those pancakes are way too good and you’re way too skinny.”

Taking it, she could only marvel at him. “I can’t believe you.”

“What?”

She blinked, not knowing how to express her feelings. Not knowing how to tell him that at every turn he impressed her. She looked down at the record player. “How did you get that?”

He shrugged and opened the other bag he had, pulling out a record. “I thought Grandpa might want to listen to his favorite album. So I did the stalker thing you like so much and got the key from where I saw you get it last night.”

Now she was crying. Feelings of wonder and gratitude mixed together like the colors on a painter’s wheel that would eventually make a perfect picture. “I…” she choked back the emotion.

Hesitating, he gently took her into a hug. “C’mon, Rook. You know I’m just doing this all for the article.”

She jerked out a laugh. “Yes, I know how much you like to please the press.”

He held her tightly for a second before letting go and moving to the record player, turning on the power button. “Honestly, I’ve never worked one of these before.”

Putting down her food, she moved next to him. She set the record on down and carefully placed the needle on it.

Music blared out at full blast. They both jumped, and she turned it down. Then they looked at each other and burst out laughing. He lightly grabbed her shoulder. “Shh, we’re going to get kicked out of the hospital being the rowdy hippies that we are.”

Looking down at his hand, she swallowed and then looked back to his eyes, feeling way more than scared of getting kicked out.

Casually, he took away his hand, and a slow smiled filled his face. “The guy at the record store said vinyl is coming back.”

Liking this thing, whatever it was between them, she smiled back. “It totally is.”

“Oh, and I have my agent working on getting you your job back.”

She couldn’t believe it. She felt another round of tears coming on.

“Hey,” he said softly, touching her shoulder. “Don’t cry, ‘cause you know then I’ll have to cry, too,” he said in a soft falsetto.

This made her erupt into giggles.

“I do demand one thing for all my efforts, though.”

She sniffed. “Okay.”

“Let me take you to dinner when we leave tonight.”

H
e loved looking
at all the pictures she’d taken from the airplane. They laughed. They listened to the record, front and back, a bazillion times, taking turns re-starting it.

She told him story after story about her grandfather. There were so many that he felt like he knew the man personally. She talked more about growing up at the Bed and Breakfast and how she’d been given lots of responsibility from an early age to cook, clean, and take care of customers.

He opened up to her about his life more than he ever had, telling her about his aunt and her amazing cooking and how she never missed a football game. How she bragged to the neighbors so much they all tried to avoid her.

Charity’s knees were gathered to her chest in the chair while she watched him. “You miss her.”

It was an accurate observation, but he pretended not to care. “Of course I don’t. I’m aloof and cold with women.”

Rolling her eyes, she let out her breath. “Man, haven’t you heard you’re supposed to
forgive
your friends for the stupid things they say?”

For some reason he didn’t exactly like how she’d so casually called herself his friend. He opted to cover it by cleaning up the nearly empty food containers. “I’m just teasing.” Dang, he had to quit getting so attached, he berated himself as he took all the garbage out to the hall trash and then came back.

When he returned, she was standing, staring down at her grandpa with a somber look on her face.

Without even thinking about it, he draped his arm over her shoulders, liking the way she leaned into him and seemed to fit perfectly into the side of his body. “He’ll be okay.”

She stiffened. “I’ve never liked it when people make promises about things they have no control over.”

He was silent. He wished he could contradict her, but she was right. “I’m sorry.”

The record ended, and he moved to turn the album over. When he turned back, she was running a light hand down her grandfather’s cheek and tracing a path down his arm to his hand. “I love you, Grandpa,” she said as she held his hand.

He wondered what he should do or if she’d rather be by herself.

He didn’t have to wonder long.

She looked up. “Thanks for coming today.”

He moved back to the chair next to hers and sat, picking up one of the magazines he’d bought earlier at the gift shop when he’d gotten them some waters. He shrugged. “I wanted to come, and I have a surprise for you after dinner tonight, too.”

Leaning back, she folded her arms. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Her coconut scent filled him. He wanted to take her hand in his. He wanted to scoot closer to her, but he didn’t. “Why are you so suspicious of nice people, Rook? You might want to delve into that at our next chic talk.” He gave her a teasing smile.

She played along. “Good idea, maybe I’ll ask you to delve into your misogynistic views of women.”

Cocking his head to the side, he grinned. “You’ve been waiting to use that word for a while, admit it.”

She laughed.

“And I’m not misogynistic, Rook. Far from it.”

“You think a female shouldn’t go do the hard reporting. You think it’s too dangerous.”

He sputtered, giving her a ‘you’re insane’ look. “I said I thought it was too dangerous for
you
. I could care less what other women do.”

That response had clearly not been what she’d expected. “O-kay.”

He stayed quiet, not wanting to tell her how he cared more and more about her with every second that passed.

She tsked her tongue. “Okay, Legend James. I admit you’re keeping me on my toes.”

He met her eyes and the air grew static between them. He wanted to kiss her so much. “Someone has to.”

They were both silent for a few minutes.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Like he could tell her. He sighed. “Nothing.”

“Whatever. You have to be thinking about something.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

She shrugged and looked back at her grandpa. “I don’t know. I’m thinking about how…it’s strange that we’ve been going to college for four years at the same school, but we never actually talked before the other day when we both wanted to kill each other.”

Thinking about how she was right, he laughed. He
had
been really mad that day.

A light laugh escaped her lips, too. “Life’s just strange.”

Oh how that didn’t even begin to do justice to it for him at this moment. “Incredibly strange.”

She searched his face. “You’re about to move to Dallas and start the rest of your life.”

“Yeah.” How come it didn’t feel that fulfilling just now?

“You’ll start playing professional football, and you’ll have even more girls fawning all over you.” Her voice was wistful.

A hard pit formed in his gut just thinking about it. “I don’t want the girls that fawn all over me,” he stated.

“Whatever.”

“You’ve said that twice now,” he commented.

“So you keep track of every word I repeat?”

“Yep,” he replied, pulling over a little side table and propping his feet on it.

Another light laugh came out, and she shoved his shoulder. “Whatever.” Her eyes held her smile at her joke.

“Three, and we have a funny girl, too.”

She laughed harder.

He laughed, too, hating that it felt like his attraction to her was compounding with every second. He so wanted to just leave, but he wanted to stay more. He sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re a shoe in for New York.”

She frowned so briefly, he wondered if he’d actually seen it, she shrugged. “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

“Was Paul going to go to New York with you after getting clean water to remote villages?” He was just chic talking. Light chic talking, he told himself.

She slowly nodded her head. “Yeah.”

He let out a breath, hating himself for even starting down this line. “Paul, what kind of a name is that?”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Uh, Paul is an apostle’s name.”

Feeling caught, he blew out his breath. “Pft, such a weird name.” He grinned wider.

She smirked at him. “Exactly. I mean, something like Legend is much better.”

He smirked back. “Totally normal.”

Adjusting her chair to match his, she propped up her feet next to him. “Seriously, Legend James sounds like a rock star name.”

Pinching his lips, he shook his head. “Actually, it was my grandfather’s name.”

“Really? Legend James. One day I’ll be telling my kids about you. How I wrote the article that made you.”

He chug laughed. “Uh-huh, yep. That’s right. It was all you.” He didn’t like something about that phrase. Her kids. Kids that she would have with whom? The jerk Paul? Thinking about her still loving him after he cheated on her, and of the possibility of Paul getting her back, made Legend want to punch a hole in the wall. He shifted in his chair thinking that he should just go. This was getting ridiculous. Being here was starting to drive him slightly crazy, but he couldn’t seem to leave. “Yup, it’s a family name.”

“Hmm, I didn’t know that about you.”

“Now that’s something you could put in the article.”

She seemed to measure the information. “True. I can write about Legend James, football
millionaire
extraordinaire, inherited his name from his grandfather. Cool.”

“How come you make being a millionaire sound like a bad thing?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Oh, I guess I think people that hoard all that money are just...I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She looked away.

“What?” For some reason it bothered him that she didn’t want to tell him what was so distasteful about being a millionaire.

Her face grew red. “I just think it’s morally abhorrent.”

“Morally abhorrent?” He puffed out, unbelieving.

“Big words, keep up.”

He laughed, liking that she was like no other woman he’d ever gone out with. Most of them asked, at least once, what his salary would be in a pro league. Or they talked about it somehow.

“Please, tell me why?”

She shrugged. “I look around at others that need so much and think I would feel bad having so much.”

“You could give some of it away,” he challenged.

The side of her lip tugged up. “True. Would you give some away?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I already have plans in place to give some away.” He’d never told anyone about the legal trust he’d already met with an attorney about setting up.

This made her turn and stare into his eyes. “Really?”

He could feel his own face getting red. “Yeah.” He tried to act nonchalant. “I’m setting up scholarships to sports camps for children of military kids. Growing up my aunt took side jobs and, even though my dad sent money home, there wouldn’t have been enough for competitive camps and equipment. Having that opportunity gave me an edge.” It felt good to share this with someone. “So when I get my signing bonus, I get to build my aunt a big house, buy my dad the truck he always wanted, and help fund some scholarships.”

Turning to face him more fully, she smiled and shook her head. “You surprise me more and more, Legend.” Her voice was husky and, once again, all he wanted to do was kiss her.

He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. “Charity Saint sounds like a religious name.”

“My family did come from Ireland. Lots of deep Catholic roots.”

“Saint Charity. Ahh, yes, I thought I’d heard of you.”

This elicited another shove from her.

He let out a light laugh. He liked teasing her. He liked it when she shoved him. He liked it anytime she touched him. Yes, he realized it was stupid. “So let me hear the plan of Saint Charity.”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a low growl. “I think I liked it better when you called me Rook.”

“Ha.” He pointed at her. “Then I officially get to claim rights to using it as your nickname.”

Another exaggerated eye roll. “Fine.”

He laughed. “So you want to go be a reporter at the
New York Times
and marry Paul?” he asked. “Is that the plan?”

Shock washed over her face. “Man, you sound like my mother,” she accused.

“What?” he asked, wondering why that was the wrong assumption.

“I never said I wanted to marry him, okay? We’re not dating anymore.”

He had to know more. He hit where she’d revealed she was vulnerable. “So your mother doesn’t like him?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Your mother would like me.” He nodded with confidence.

“Well, we’re not dating,
either
, so that also doesn’t matter.” She got up and let out a breath, walking over to the record player and turning it back on.

“True.” He agreed. “We’re not dating.”

She whirled back to him. “I just want to focus on reporting, that’s it.”

“Okay.” She was one of those women. Vexed by a man and now she’d written them off. “Fine. Tell me something that doesn’t have to do with Paul or your job,” he suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“What else do you want in your life?”

“Umm, well, I want to travel.”

“Where?”

Her face lit up. “I’ve never been to Ireland. I want to go. Check out my roots. See some castles. I want to go to London. To the Globe theater, you probably don’t know this but it’s the theater that—”

He cut in. “That Shakespeare was in.”

A slight grin tilted her lip. “How would you know that?”

“Oh, of course, I’m a dumb jock that’s never taken an English class.”

She gave him a look that said she’d been caught. “Okay, so I’m surprised that you know that, that doesn’t mean I think you’re a dumb jock.”

Pretending to be hurt, he moved his hair out of his eyes. “Let’s see,” he said, holding out a finger for each thing he listed off, “You were pretty surprised I could dance, shocked I could play the guitar, and now you find it just incredible that I would know what the Globe Theater is.”

“Whatever.” She sighed.

Holding up four fingers, he smiled. “That’s four times.”

Fussing with her grandpa’s pillows, she didn’t say anything else.

“Where else?”

She didn’t look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Where else do you want to go after the Globe Theater?”

She paused. “There’s this bridge in Sydney, Australia that is huge and you can bungee jump off it. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Oh, I’m in for that.”

Glancing at him for a second, she shrugged. “Sure, you could come.”

“What else?”

“I want to go to Ecuador and help build schools for children.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s the rain forest, and kids there need help.”

“That’s cool.” He agreed. He snapped. “That’s why you dig Paul, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Because he wants to get clean water to villages. You said he’s obsessed with it. You are attracted to him because he does stuff like that.” It was all making sense now.

“Whatever.”

“Five.”

“Shut up!” She let out a laugh.

“Okay, what other travels are we doing?”

“We?”

He shrugged. “I make millions of dollars. I’ll probably be funding all these nice little field trips to the jungle and elsewhere for us.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to pay for me.”

He rolled his eyes, actually liking that she wasn’t disagreeing with them going together. “Okay, so are we curing malaria next in a third world country or could we do something like run with the bulls in France?”

She grinned. “Oh, I’m definitely in for that. Have you ever been bull riding? It’s so fun.”

“You’ve been bull riding?”

She giggled. “It’s Utah. There are ranches everywhere around here. I dated a guy in high school that was a bull rider.”

He flung himself back. “Another man from your past.”

She giggled. “It wasn’t like that. It was just fun. C’mon, bull riders are hot.”

“Charity Lynne Saint, that’s too—”

“Lynne?” she interrupted, “Where’d you get that?”

He grinned. “I thought it sounded good. Okay, out with it. What’s your middle name? I’m sure you know mine already.”

She cupped her face and held back a laugh. “George.”