Winner Takes All (30 page)

Sick bastard.

“See, I don't know that Cam's the right guy for you,” Blake commented.

Annabelle glanced back at the door, where Cameron had just made his exit. “I don't know. He's pretty hot. I bet the guy's got women scrambling for his attention.”

Blake only lifted a brow, because that ugly green monster had him tongue-tied. He wanted her talking about
him
like that.

She jerked a shoulder. “Maybe I will give him a call before some other woman snatches him up.”

Blake gripped his hands tighter on the desk, because the tension was no longer from his need for more pills. Over his dead body she'd call Cameron Shaw.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn't have a problem with that, would you?”

What did she expect him to do? Piss a circle around her? Brand his name on her ass? Because if that's what it would take, that's what he'd do.

Take for what?

Take for the world to know she was his and no man had better put a hand on her.

The wave of possessiveness was sudden but fierce. The only thing he'd ever felt possessive for was a game ball.

“He'd have to get through me first,” Blake told her. “Cameron might be bigger, but I'm meaner.”

One corner of her mouth turned up. “In other words, you'll kill him if he lays a hand on me.”

“You got that right,” Blake confirmed.

“You know, some women would be offended by that. Every feminist bone in my body should be bristling.”

He stood from the chair and came around the desk, perching himself on the corner and crowding her. His legs brushed hers and he could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. But she didn't back up. She just tilted her chin, matching his stubbornness with her own. Normally anyone who challenged him in such a way was put in their place. Blake was an alpha male who liked to call the shots and hated having his authority questioned.

Annabelle Turner had challenged him from day one. She's strolled into his office, with her stubborn chin, you-can't-tell-me-what-to-do boldness and straight up put him in his place from the very beginning.

Which was wrapped around her finger.

He gripped her chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting her head so the lights from his office highlighted the straight line of her pert nose.

“Let's get something straight, Annabelle,” he stated with a gruff voice. “I may not be able to put a label on whatever we have, or even exactly what I feel for you. But this is it for me.”

“It?” she repeated.

“Yeah,
it
. The real thing, if you catch my drift.”

Her eyes widened and she blew out a shuddering breath, teasing his knuckles and making the hairs on the back of his hand stand up.

“Maybe you'd better spell it out for me,” she said.

She was going to drag it out of him, wasn't she? He should have known she wouldn't make it easy for him. But then again, he supposed love was never an easy thing.

“What I mean is,” he started, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth along her jawline, “I don't want any other man having a go at you. Including Cameron, or anyone else associated with me.”

One of her delicate brows arched. “Having a go?” she repeated.

He couldn't help but smile. Yeah, not the best choice of words. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I do,” she replied. “I just like seeing you squirm.”

Which was something he'd been doing a lot around her.

“I just stopped by to wish you good luck at the game,” she added. “And to give you this.” Blake dropped his hand from her chin when she dug something out of her back pocket. Her trim fingers worked to unfold a glossy packet, which she then handed to him.

“It's information on a substance abuse support group,” she told him. “They meet in the evenings a few days a week. If you're interested, that is.”

Blake eyed the brochure with mixed feelings. He'd never considered going to a support group before, mostly because he'd always thought they were for pussies who couldn't handle their problems. Sitting among a bunch of strangers, introducing themselves like they were back in kindergarten, then crying about their problems hadn't exactly been his cup of tea. So he'd pushed that option aside because he was a big tough man who didn't need anyone's help.

Only he did need help; if left to his own devices, he'd probably end up back at his doctor's office, begging for more pills like a heroin addict.

“Thank you,” he told her.

Her body stiffened for a moment. “You mean, you're not upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“Some people might think that's a presumptuous thing to do.”

“What, try to help?”

She stood from the chair and smoothed her hands down her thighs. “I sometimes have a habit of trying to help too much.”

Blake set the brochure down and reached for her, gripping her pinched waist with his hands. He gave her a solid tug, drawing her into the open V of his legs. “Some people might think that. But it's actually what I love most about you.” The second the words were out of his mouth, Blake realized what he'd admitted to. It was the closest admission of love he'd ever made to a woman. Except for maybe his mother.

Annabelle must have realized it, too, because her eyes widened and turned impossibly green. Blake had never realized it was possible for eyes to actually change color. But Annabelle's did. Sometimes they were brownish green and other times they were more green than anything else.

She huffed out a breath and toyed with the collar on his shirt. “Blake…”

Then his office door opened, and Cameron stuck his head in, completely unconcerned for the moment Blake and Annabelle were having. “Did you forget you have a team out here ready to practice? Or would you like me to run it for you so you can make out with your girlfriend?”

If Blake didn't love Cam like a freakin' brother, he would have lunged across the office and smashed a fist into the man's shadowed jaw. Like the asshole he was, Cam lifted a brow in a silent dare.

“You want to give us a minute here?” Blake said, and sent his friend a look that said,
Keep on, asswipe.

But Annabelle dowsed a bucket of water over the flame when she tugged out of his grasp and stepped away. “It's all right,” she said with a shake of her head. “You're busy and I have to go anyway.”

A part of him, the one that was wrapped so tightly around her finger, didn't know which way was up, wanted to demand she stay. Demand she have some kind of response for his admission. Because he knew she felt the same way. He could see her love for him in her eyes. Could feel it when she melted into his embrace and her heart thudded against his chest, thumping a rhythm that was like repeating his name over and over again.

So he just sat there, perched on the edge of his desk, and watched her leave. Just ran out of his office without so much as a backward glance. And Blake let her go, like the coward he was, not sure if he should feel relieved or rejected.

A
n hour before the Bobcats' first play-off game in eighteen years, and Blake had lost his damn mind. He was supposed to be with his team as the stadium filled to the gills with fans, press, and students. He should have been with his other coaches, going through the game plan, reviewing plays and praying the kids could remember everything they'd learned throughout the season.

Instead he was in his truck, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles cracked, going after a woman. Replaying Cameron's
“Where the hell are you going?”
over in his mind when he'd abruptly strolled out of the locker room, leaving the kids gaping after him. He'd pushed through the parking lot, ignoring the quizzical gazes from fans and the
“Does he know something we don't?”
from Virginia McAllister.

Yeah, he was insane. Freaking out after receiving a text from Annabelle that she'd be unable to attend tonight's game because her mother was sick with the flu.

Or was she? His paranoid mind kept telling him there was more to her excuse. Like maybe she was pissed at him and decided not to come to the game. He couldn't stand the thought she might think he'd blown her off. Had he completely ruined things between them? Damn it, he shouldn't have called her a distraction. She deserved better than that. She deserved someone who put her first, made her the center of a man's universe. He'd done a piss-poor job so far, even though he hadn't been able to assign a label to whatever it was they had. What he did know was that he needed her there. The thing was, Blake didn't even realize how much her presence meant to him. He needed her support. He needed to be able to glance in the stands and see her beautiful face smiling back at him. Cheering the kids on.

Cheering him on.

Okay, yeah, she said she'd understood about the distraction thing. She'd told him that very thing. Only something in her eyes had contradicted the reassuring smile. It hadn't been until later that night, as he lay in bed, that he'd gone over the conversation in his mind. Seeing the light of uncertainty flash across her face as she told him she understood.

So here he was, flying across town toward her mother's house, when he should have been preparing for the biggest game of the season.

A distraction?

Heck yeah she was.

But the best kind, and he needed to tell her that. He needed her to know how he felt, point-blank. No holds barred. There was no way he could get through the game thinking she was unsure about their future.

His phone vibrated for the third time since he'd run out of the stadium. He knew it was Cameron without even checking the message. Blake turned onto Ruth Turner's street and checked his phone.

If you're not kidnapped by aliens or being held for ransom, I'm gonna murder you. What the hell, Blake???

Having ignored Cam's first two messages, Blake knew he couldn't keep ignoring his assistant coach. Cam at least deserved to know Blake wasn't flaking on them.

Chill. I'll be back by kickoff.

Blake set the phone down, then picked it up again.

Promise.

Like that last word would keep the vein in Cameron's forehead from popping out.

A minute later, he arrived at Ruth's house and pulled alongside the curb. Annabelle's car was in the driveway. Parked neatly and precisely. Just like her.

As he was about to exit the truck, and most likely make an ass of himself, his phone vibrated again. He grabbed it, fully intending to tell Cam to take a damn Midol already, when he saw it was Brandon.

Please tell me that wasn't your truck I saw leaving the stadium. Matt said you just up and ran out of the locker room. Everything all right?

With a heavy sigh, Blake shot a quick reply.

Just need to take care of something, which I could do much faster if everyone would stop fussing over me like a damn woman.

His phone vibrated with Brandon's response.

Geez, sorry. And tell Annabelle hello for me.

Blake lifted his eyes skyward as he exited the truck. Was he that predictable?

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he made his way to the front door. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if she slammed the door in his face? What if she was too hurt to give him a chance to prove she wasn't a distraction?

What if you stop acting like a damn pussy and man up?

Pretty hard to do when his palms were sweaty.

Without giving himself time to rethink his stupidity, Blake knocked on the door and waited. Waited to see what kind of fate Annabelle had in store for them. A second later, the door swung open, and there she was. Wide-eyed and soft and so damn beautiful that Blake wanted to kick his own ass for pushing her away. He opened his mouth to speak, but the punch in his gut had knocked the breath out of him.

“Blake,” Annabelle greeted with a surprised, wide-eyed look. “What're you doing here? Did something happen with the team?”

“Is your mom really sick?” he blurted out, like a complete ass.

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Is she really sick, or were you just saying that to avoid seeing me tonight?”

She blinked at him once, then stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “What're you talking about? You think I would lie about my mom being sick just to avoid seeing you?”

When she put it like that, he really did sound like an ass. A terrified jerk who didn't have a clue how to tell her how he really felt. He only knew he couldn't go forward with tonight's game without her knowing.

“Blake, you need to be with your team,” she told him. “This is an important game and they need you there.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't matter. I would miss the whole thing if it meant…” He blew out a breath and shook his head again. Damn, he'd given dozens of press conferences. Given television and radio interviews, speeches, and tons of public appearances. So why couldn't he tell this one woman how he felt? How did she manage to tie his tongue in knots?

She took a step toward him and touched his arm, which only made him crazier. “Blake, what's wrong?”

“None of it means anything without you,” he finally told her. “I would miss the whole thing if you asked me to.”

Her green eyes darkened with confusion. “I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know. I'm just saying, if you asked me to, I'd walk away from it.”

She blinked, a slow sweeping of her dark lashes over her stunning eyes. Then she pulled a shuddering breath. “You would walk away from a play-off game for me? Even if it meant your coaching job?”

“In a heartbeat,” he answered.

“But those kids mean everything to you,” she reminded him.

“You mean more.”

The pulse at the base of her neck fluttered, which matched the trembling of her full lips. “Blake,” she whispered, then swiped her tongue along her lower lips. “I know this is the part where I say something in return, but I'm not sure what.”

“You don't have to say anything.” He glanced at his watch, knowing he needed to get his ass in gear if he was going to make it back by kickoff. “I needed you to know that you're not a distraction. I mean you are, but…” He paused. Shit, it was coming out all wrong. “You're a distraction I need. I mean, want. But yeah, I need you too—”

“Blake—”

He shook his head. “No, I told you you didn't need to say anything. Just let me get this out before I screw it up. I said you were a distraction because I was scared. I was scared that if you got too close, that would be it for me. I would lose my focus for everything I'd been working for since the beginning of the year, and I thought that was more important to me.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “But it's not. I don't care if we go to state or not.”

“Yes, you do, Blake. The team has worked too hard, not to mention your job is on the line.”

“I don't care about the job,” he argued.

“Don't tell me that,” she said. “You care about those kids more than you realize.”

“Of course I do,” he agreed. “But you mean more to me than the football season. I meant what I said before that I'd walk away from it if you asked me to.”

“I—” She blew out a shuddering breath, then swiped at her eyes. “No one's made that kind of sacrifice for me before.”

“I know.” He took her hand and rubbed his fingers over her softer ones. “You're always the one making sacrifices for other people. Someone should do the same for you for a change.”

One side of her mouth kicked up, contradicting the emotion swimming in her eyes. “And that someone is you?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “I love you.” So yeah, there it was. His soul pretty much bared for her to see. Flaws and all.

“You…what?” she whispered.

He came closer, crowding her so he could breathe her in and fill his senses with everything that was Annabelle. Just in case she told him to take a hike, he could leave remembering how she smelled.

“I said I love you. If you asked me to walk away from this team, I would.”

“You keep saying that, and I keep telling you I would never ask you to do that,” she reminded him.

“That's because you're the least selfish person I know.” He grabbed her other hand. “And how about you go ahead and tell me you love me back. I already know you do.”

She offered him a small smile. “Always so sure of yourself.”

“About this? Hell yeah.”

“Okay,” she countered, taking a step closer to him. “How about this? I love you too much to allow you to miss tonight's game. So get your ass back there and win this one.”

Her admission sent a ribbon of warmth through his system, prompting the corners of his mouth to curl up.

She nudged his arm. “Yeah, you heard me right.” She pressed her lips to his, finally giving him what he'd been craving all day, hell, his entire damn life. Her sweet scent wrapped around him, causing everything else weighing on his mind to fade away. The game, his job, her rejection. It all diminished when her cool lips touched his. How could he question anything in his life when he had her? She was his strength, his foundation.

“Now go,” she whispered against his lips. “Those kids need you.”

“
I
need you,” he clarified.

She rubbed her hands over his shoulders. “I know. And I'll be here to congratulate you when you win. Despite your doubt, my mother really is sick.”

How could he have doubted her? Of course she would never pull anything like that. She was the most genuine, honest person he'd ever known.

He kissed her again, allowing his mouth to linger on hers, not ready to break the contact so he could absorb all of her strength and sweetness. “I'll be back,” he told her.

“And I'll be here.”

With one last lingering look, Blake turned and left, striding down the sidewalk with more confidence he'd felt in a long time. Because he couldn't let her down. Annabelle was the first thing in his life worth keeping around, worth fighting for. And he wasn't about to let her down or let her go.