Alarm bells went off the in the back of Carter’s mind, but he fought to keep his face smooth.
“I left early,” Elijah continued, oblivious to Carter’s internal note-taking. “Had practice the next day.”
“That’s smart. Hey, do people still go up to the quarry for their keggers?”
“Shit, no, that place is haunted.”
“Not as haunted as Hamilton House.”
“I know, right?” Elijah sat up, shaking his head emphatically. “And I’m not even talking ghosts. No one haseverhad a party there that didn’t end with at least five people arrested.”
Carter laughed, and Elijah echoed him. He tucked his little piece of intel away, and leaned back on his hands, breathing in the early grass and honeysuckle smells of evening. He didn’t want to be a Lean Dog right now. For a few minutes longer, he just wanted to be a guy who liked football.
~*~
Gratifyingly sore and tired from his workout, his stomach was rumbling as he passed through town. The warm, golden glow of Cook’s Coffee drew his attention at a red light, and then he thought about the bagel sandwich he’d had in there the other night, and then he was pulling over against the curb, parking, and going in.
The strong smell of coffee hit him first, and then the undercurrents of sweet and savory from the food. The low murmur of busy voices washed over him: lots of students working away on laptops and over notebooks. Dressed as he was, fresh from a workout, he had the sense he’d gone back in time. That he might have been a student, too, hopeful for the future, and still innocent.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” a familiar voice said, and he turned to find Leah sitting at one of the window tables, in front of her laptop.
His smile was automatic, and accompanied by a surge of warm fondness in his chest. “Nah. Just your mom’s bagel sandwiches.”
She nodded sagely. “If I have to come in second, it’s definitely a compliment to come in second to one of Mom’s sandwiches.” Her smile afterward, when she broke character, rooted him in place a moment.
The thing about Leah was: she was beautiful. He’d known that even in high school. But she’d been friends with Ava, who was shunned by the popular crowd for her Lean Dog origins, which in turn meant, loyal friend that she was, Leah had been shunned, too. But he’d noticed that she was pretty. That she was so confidently herself, and not at all bothered about looking like the dyed-blonde, fake tan crowd trying to look like Abercrombie models.
As a football star, he’d been expected to have one of those tan, cotillion-ready blondes on his arm at every dance, and he’d dated several. But beyond the shiny veneer, he’d not found anything like true companionship.
He’d been attracted to Ava, brooding, and quiet, and aloof. But Ava had most definitely never been attracted to him.
Now, all these years later, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t properly appreciated Leah’s candid good cheer, and her easy sense of humor.
As he watched her, marveling more than a little, she moved some of her things aside, clearing a space across from her on the table. “Here. I’ll save you a seat while you get your food.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
Her dad was working the counter tonight, and sight of him sobered Carter up fast.
“Carter,” he greeted, brows giving a single jump of surprise. He’d said Carter’s name with the firm, loud air of a commanding officer. “We’ve seen you around here a lot lately.” Not an accusation – not quite.
Carter swallowed. “The food’s good, sir. I like the new menu.”
Mr. Cook stared at him a moment, before a flicking a quick glance toward his daughter – so fleeting Carter would have missed it if he’d blinked; but he’d seen it, and his belly squirmed unpleasantly. “What can I get you tonight?”
“I don’t think your dad likes me,” he whispered, a few minutes later when he sat down with his sandwich and an iced green tea. He’d been hitting the burgers and whiskey lately, and the sight of his meal went a long way toward softening Marshall Cook’s severity.
Leah picked her head up, fingers stilling on her keyboard. “What? No, he does. Why?”
“When I went up there, he was all, ‘Carter.’ Like he wanted to call meyoung manor something. He said I’ve been in here a lot.”
“So? You have.”
“But not in a good way.”
She huffed a laugh. “You work forGhost Teague, but my dad’s the scary one?”
“He’s…” He felt his face heat, and resisted the urge to squirm in his chair. It wasn’t that he was scary on his own; it was more that he’d given Carterthat lookright after Carter had been thinking about how pretty the guy’s daughter was.
