Blitzed (Rules of Possession Book 3), page 11
So anyway, I had plenty to do. There was no reason for me to be on McAdams’s Instagram page. None. He seemed to delight in posting thirst traps of him working out for his all too eager followers. And who the hell needed a million followers anyway? It was ridiculous.
He posted food pictures sometimes, too. I peered at a picture of his morning smoothie. Looked gross. The acai bowl topped with blueberries looked a little better, but just barely. Hmph. If you went by his Instagram page, the key to looking like he did was eating leafy things. And working out on different contraptions until you were ding-dong dead.
Nah, I’m good. I took another bite of my granola bar which had an extremely high percentage of chocolate. I mean, oats were like the fourth ingredient, so that was good, right? I checked the back of the wrapper again. The healthy stuff began right behind sugar, corn syrup, and mini, semi-sweet chocolate chips—all items that went under the category of things I need to live. I took another hearty bite.
“Hey, there you are.” I looked up to find the object of my inappropriate thoughts standing there, dressed in gray sweats with the Outlaws logo and a black t-shirt that clung to his biceps. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot,” I said, clicking out of his page faster than a Pornhub link.
Then I deleted my browsing history just in case. Google, my partner in crime, lazily queried how long I’d like to cover my tracks. For all time. I clicked the option anxiously. Must I state the obvious?
“Well? What do you think?”
I looked up into McAdams’s expectant face and realized I’d completely missed anything he’d said. Probably because I’d been deleting things like the FBI was about to confiscate my laptop.
I hoped against hope that my cheeks weren’t flushed. “Um, what?”
“I wanted to get your thoughts on creating an athletic director position for our new sports program. Joshua told me to run it by you.”
Our. And just like that, I was pissed. I fumed, wondering how he could take me from zero to sixty so quickly. There was nothing our about Rainbow Harbor…at least, not where he was concerned. He was a temporary guest slumming it before he’d go back to his real life.
“I think we can’t afford it,” I said shortly. “Nice talk.”
“I’d offer to pay for it, but I have the feeling—”
“Your feeling is correct.” I didn’t want him funding shit. The kids would get used to the program and then he’d forget all about it once he got back to his real life. “Now if that’s all—”
“Don’t shut me down just yet,” he said affably, and I wondered what kind of brush it would take to ruffle his feathers. “We could staff the position as a rotating volunteer kind of thing. That would work until you had enough funding to hire someone permanently.”
“And just where would we get these magical volunteers?”
He sat on the edge of my desk like he belonged there, which didn’t help my concentration at all. “I’ve got a few people in mind who could fit the bill.”
Long term, though? He didn’t seem to realize how big of a commitment this place could be. It sucked up your time better than a Dyson. I mean, just look at how he’d flaked on Harper’s practice. I tamped down a flare of anger, reminding myself that I’d vowed not to mention it.
“All I’m saying is that it’s a big ask,” I said tactfully.
“Not as big as you’d think,” he argued. “I already floated the idea to some of the players and a few guys are onboard. They’re like big kids anyway, and exercise is what we do.”
“I don’t want the kids to be disappointed. Especially when people promise them things and don’t follow through.”
At his silence, I realized that yes, he could extract subtext from supposedly harmless conversation. He narrowed his eyes. “There something you’d like to say to me? Something about Harper, perhaps?”
“Nope.”
“I got a little tied up on Thursday.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Which is almost worse,” he said, irritation clear in his tone. “If you’d have asked me, I could’ve told you I had a very good reason for not showing up, and you could’ve avoided looking like a dick.”
“Okay, McAdams.” I stopped pretending to even see the invoices I was rifling through and tossed them on the desk. I leaned back in my chair and skewered him with my gaze. “Please tell me what your reasoning is for disappointing Harper. Especially when he didn’t ask you to come to his practice. You volunteered and then you flaked.”
“Okay, Fox, I will.” He gestured at his ankle monitor. “This stupid thing monitors your skin for alcohol content and I forgot to use an alcohol-free mouthwash. My electronic monitoring officer is a real douche and had a fit, so I had to report to his office immediately.”
The only sound in my office was the wind whooshing out of my sails. As far as excuses go, that wasn’t half-bad. I resisted the urge to squirm in my chair, wishing I had something to hide behind other than a sheepish expression. “Oh.”
“I also explained and apologized to Harper.”
I checked the balance in my word bank and yup, I still only had the one word. I made another withdrawal. “Oh.”
He made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh as he pushed off my desk and stood. “Come with me.”
When I didn’t move quickly enough, he held out his hand. I had no choice but to take it. Either that or else look like I was afraid to even touch him, which I absolutely was not. He pulled me to my feet and drew me over to the window. Just that little bit of touching had my skin buzzing, which was ridiculous. Whose stupid plan was it to keep things platonic and professional again? Oh, that’s right. Mine.
I shied away a few inches…then a few more, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. My hope was in vain. A little half-smile crept over his mouth as he gave me a considering look. “You okay over there?”
“Of course.” I knew my cheeks were flushed, but I lifted my chin anyway. “Don’t I look okay?”
His half-smile grew as he gave me a long, thorough once-over. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be looking at you that way anymore. Unless you’ve changed your mind….”
I wasn’t about to touch that with a ten-foot, sexed-up pole. Instead, I looked out at the field, which was full of kids. They were taking advantage of every activity McAdams set up out there. I hated to admit it, but it looked amazing.
And the smug bastard knew it.
“What do you think?” He asked.
“It’s alright,” I said airily, and he chuckled.
He and the kids planted mature shrubs around the edge of the chain link fence for privacy. The field was separated into three sections with separate activities going in each, and there was a pop-up shed that held all the sports equipment.
“Fine, it’s amazing,” I admitted. “It’s okay to be bad at things, you know.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, but I’m bad at plenty.”
I frowned at the little undercurrent to his words. What on earth would he have to be insecure about? And why did I care so much that someone would dare to make him doubt himself? Must be the social conscience in me. Or Joshua’s therapy talk was starting to seep into my brain against my will.
I couldn’t help but ask. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re not looking the right way,” he said evasively, pointing at the field. “Do you see him?”
Guess he had his secrets, too. And damn if I didn’t want them all. “See who?”
He chuckled warmly and suddenly his hand was cupping my jaw. He turned my face gently in the right direction and pointed. Too bad the field was pretty much a blur. That hand that could easily palm a football was gentle as could be on my jaw. By the time I remembered to breathe and pull away, he was looking at me funny again.
I focused on the dark-haired guy who seemed to be holding court in the center of a bunch of kids. He was wearing a red tracksuit and had a soccer ball tucked under his arm. He listened to Harper talking animatedly, nodding along now and again. It took me a few seconds to recognize him.
“Why…why is Samson Baptiste outside my window?”
“He’s a friend of mine. Sort of. I met him at a party last year and we’ve texted a few times since then.” He shrugged. “Who better to run soccer drills with the kids?”
Someone better than an Olympic medalist on the US soccer team? I could think of literally no one. That made about as much sense as anything else that was happening right about now. “Sure,” I said faintly.
“Anyway, I thought this would make it up to Harper until I can go to his next practice.”
I examined that solution from every fucking angle, but it was more than fair, which was…rather annoying. So was how good he smelled. Or how amazing his eyes were, especially when they crinkled with amusement at my expense.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.”
“And you never will again.” I rubbed the back of my neck because there was no time like the present to do hard things. “I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“You know.”
“Do I?”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” I muttered.
Those honey-colored eyes crinkled again and I wondered when that color became my favorite. “No, I don’t think I am, Fox. Make it good and take your time.”
“I’m sorry. You just can’t imagine how many people show up for these kids and get them all excited with promises and shit, and then disappear.” I sighed and turned back to the window. It was easier to be truthful to a glass pane than his face. “I don’t want this place to be like all the other places in their life. I want them to know that they can trust us and that they’re safe.”
I missed feeling safe.
All these years later, I still expected the people I’d come to care about to disappear. The majority of my abandonment issues came from my mother putting me out like yesterday’s garbage. I knew that. Knowing it and changing it were two different things. The old me, Jamison Foxhill, might be dead, but he’d left behind most of his baggage.
Left it behind? Hell, I strapped that shit on each morning and tucked it in every night.
I didn’t want these kids to lean into that feeling. The one of not knowing whom you can count on and where to turn. I wanted them to know that no matter what else was going on in their lives, I was a lighthouse. When the waves stopped crashing and the storm stopped raging, I’d still be there.
“Are you okay?”
When I glanced over at McAdams, he was already looking at me, his eyes full of concern. I wanted to lean into that concern. Wrap it around me like a fucking blanket.
I stepped into his space and despite my mood, I wanted to laugh at his startled expression. He backed up and I followed until he was against the wall. There. Perfect. But he was just too bloody tall and didn’t seem to be interested in moving things along—instead, he just stared at me, wide-eyed. I reached up, sinking my fingers into his hair and then gripping to pull his face down to mine.
Temporary insanity, I marveled, I had no other explanation. Sometimes in life, you had to reach out and grab something that made you happy. Even if you knew it wasn’t good for you in the long run.
“What’re you—” was all he got out before my mouth landed on his.
His lips were ridiculously soft under mine…and uncertain. Clearly, he hadn’t decided whether to respond, so I kept things light as I pressed soft kisses to his mouth. Giving him plenty of room to make up his mind. I wondered which way he was leaning as I traced the seam of his mouth with my tongue.
I didn’t have to wonder long. He came alive like someone had flipped a switch, taking control of the kiss. It was his turn to grip my hair, using it to angle my head to his satisfaction. There was no more wondering if we were doing this because fuck yeah, we were doing this. I groaned into his mouth. Fuck, he was even better at kissing than me, and I came certified with very good reviews. His enthusiasm had caught me off guard, so I was a little short on the whole air front.
A short breath. Just one. That was all I needed before we went back to our mutual mauling. Only when I tried to pull away, he made a little sound of protest and slanted his mouth across mine again. I huffed out a laugh even as I decided that yes, breathing was for losers. Surely he liked me enough to give me the breath of life when I finally passed the fuck out on my office floor.
In a few short seconds, he’d turned my light, breezy kiss into something deeper. More elemental. It was both exactly just how I’d imagined and nothing like I’d imagined, all at the same time.
And then he pulled away.
Just…pulled away.
Blearily, I took a shuffling step forward and he shook his head. That single motion froze me in place. Fuck.
Maybe he wasn’t as into me as I thought. Maybe I’d taken things too far. He’d asked me out a few times, but that was just playful fun. Banter. Nothing to take seriously. Maybe in actuality, he didn’t want me at all—
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
His face was still flushed, his mouth positively ravaged as he gave me a look of confusion. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I pushed you against the wall and—” I put a hand over my mouth and that only served to remind me of what I’d done. “Good Lord, you probably don’t even want me that way—”
“Want you?” He practically growled. “Of course I want you. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. You have no fucking idea what it’s taking to keep from bending you over that desk, Fox.”
Sounded like an amazing idea to me. I blinked at him for a bit. “Then why—”
“Because you’re sad about something and you needed comfort. That’s the only reason you reached for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I frowned because there was more to it than that. But…yeah, maybe I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t lost in memories better left untouched.
When no answer was forthcoming, Andrew nodded. “Exactly. The next time you kiss me, I want to be the only thing on your mind. I want you to be sure.”
I nodded slowly.
“I’m gonna go. Don’t work too hard.”
He kissed me on the cheek and left. I waited a few minutes before I sat back in my chair. I stared at the wall, unseeingly. It was hard to watch him leave, yeah. Harder still to ask him to stay.
13
ANDREW
A week passed and Jesse still hadn’t mentioned anything about the kiss. To be fair, I hadn’t either. Guess we were just going back to the status quo. I still wasn’t sure if stopping things in his office was the smart move or the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
I shaded my eyes from the sun with a hand as I surveyed the soccer field. Soccer wasn’t my game, but I was willing to let the kids beat me like a drum if it meant they’d have fun. We had a mix of every level—elementary to high school—and Joshua had agreed to referee. It was rare for him to join in on our high jinks. Usually, he was fixing something or meeting with someone or tackling projects around the center. But today he’d made an exception and the kids were excited.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Joshua Knox. I admired everything he did for the community, but something about him rubbed me wrong. Maybe some of my discontent was petty jealousy. I didn’t like the way he and Jesse interacted. As if to highlight that thought, he said something that made Jesse nod and laugh. Jesse looked completely at ease in his company, in a way he never was in mine. When I asked about their relationship, Jesse gave me a look like I was batshit crazy and emphasized that Joshua was his mentor.
I gave them another sidelong glance.
Jesse stood on the sidelines with his arms folded, a little smile on his face as he watched the kids. He’d been tied up in a meeting for most of the day, and he’d only been here for an hour…something I was grumpy as hell about. Tuesday was supposed to be a sure thing. Five hours of designated Jesse time. I mean, volunteer time. And wasn’t he supposed to be supervising me?
I tried not to stare, but my gaze kept drifting that way. He was several days past a shave and his jaw was covered in stubble. His dark hair was tousled—almost like he’d styled it that way. He hadn’t. I knew that for a fact. He had a habit of abusing his hair—pulling, tugging, and raking his fingers through it. If there was ever a head of hair that deserved some fucking TLC, it was Jesse’s. I’d already told him that he was lucky he was blessed with natural good looks because he did absolutely jack shit to maintain them. In response to my observation, he’d given me the bird.
I wasn’t sure which look I liked on him better—the casual jeans and t-shirt look he did very well or his I’m about to snag a donor look, which amounted to pressed slacks and a button-down. Today the slacks were slate gray and the shirt was a dark green, which made his eyes look even greener. He’d rolled up the sleeves because of the heat, which showed off some pretty nice forearms.
He looked all but edible.
I caught a soccer ball to the solar plexus and grunted as it bounced off my abdomen. I whipped around to find Harper giving me an innocent look. “Sorry, my bad.”
I sent him a little grin. “Brat. Don’t damage the goods.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” Jesse’s voice came from behind me, and I wondered how he’d moved so quickly. “But just in case, you’re insured, yes?”
I narrowed my eyes. He was about to learn a valuable lesson. Sassy little shits deserved to be doused with A1 sauce and thrown to the wolves. I spoke to the kids without breaking eye contact. “Hey, guys? I was thinking—”
“Did it hurt?” Eric called out.
“Shut it,” I said without looking his way. “I was thinking we should convince Foxy here to join and even out the teams.”
