Pressing a hand to her
sternum, she counted to five as she inhaled, held her breath for another
five-count, then exhaled. The breathing exercise slowed her racing heart and
calmed her. “That's better,” she murmured.
Starting the car, she
threw it into reverse and backed out of her spot in Sterling University’s
faculty parking lot.
And right into a solid
object.
The sickening crunch set
her heart racing at warp speed this time.
Glancing behind her in
horror, all she saw was a big gray behemoth.
With trembling hands,
she put the car in park and jumped out to find a late-model dark gray Suburban,
it’s rear passenger-side fender crumpled, but little damage otherwise. Her old
Honda Civic, on the other hand, hadn’t stood a chance against the tank she’d
backed into. The trunk was crumpled, and her bumper hung off the passenger side
in a lopsided grimace.
Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw a tall, athletic man stride around the back of the SUV.
Fear swamped her, and
she covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
Bracing herself for the tirade, she backed away from him, holding her hands out
in front of her.
“No harm done.”
What? That’s it. No yelling? No name-calling? No threats?
He adjusted his red
Sterling Bobcats ball cap, leaning down to assess the situation then scratched
his chin and stood up. “Okay. Maybe a little harm done,” he said with an easy
smile. “Question is, are you okay?” He removed the aviator sunglasses he wore
and directed his concerned gaze right at her.
“Nash?” The instant
she saw those electric blue eyes, she recognized him. Butterflies took flight
in her stomach, and not from fear this time.
He’d been powerfully
built in high school, but that had been just a preview to the powerfully built
man he would become. And although he’d left the NFL, he hadn’t lost his
quarterback build.
They hadn’t seen each
other since the day they’d graduated high school. But, despite her broken
heart, she’d secretly followed both his college and pro football careers.
She’d been watching
the day of the NFL draft, five years earlier, when the Denver Broncos called
his name and he’d gone down on one knee and proposed to his college sweetheart,
Stephanie Cummings, further adding to her heartbreak.
She’d also been
watching the Broncos versus the Raiders the day he’d taken the hit that had
ended his career.
And finally, she’d
witnessed the press conference when Nash Taylor stood, tears in his eyes, as he
gave up the sport he loved at the young age of twenty-seven, his beauty-queen
wife noticeably absent.
It wasn’t long after
that news of their divorce hit the headlines.
“Shelby?” he asked,
his surprise evident in his expression.
“You remember me?” she
couldn’t help asking.
“Of course.” He
frowned. “Why wouldn’t I remember you? We were best friends back in the day.”
Were being the operative term.
A flush crept up her
neck and into her face as she recalled her first kiss in the backseat of their
best friend’s car. But the flush turned to heartache at the memory of Nash’s
later betrayal.
“I thought your mom
moved. Are you here visiting the university?” he asked.
“No. I, uh, I took an
assistant professor position in the College of Arts and Sciences.” A step down
for her, but she’d been lucky to get even that. She toed a piece of
her car’s bumper that had fallen off in the collision.
“No kidding?” He
rocked back on his heels. “How long have you been back?”
“I moved two weeks
ago. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before now.” She knew he’d moved back to
his hometown of Sterling after he’d left the NFL and became the head coach of
the newly formed Bobcats football team. It was the one of the reasons she’d
hesitated in taking a job she’d so desperately needed. Being in the same
town—and a small one at that—as Nash would be a constant reminder that she’d
never really gotten over her high school crush.
“I’ve been . . . out
of town.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Oh.” She nodded as if
she understood, but really she didn’t. Clearly there was more to that
statement. An awkward silence fell.
“Look, I know the new
police chief. Let me give him a call so we’ll have a report for the insurance
companies.” He pulled a smartphone from his back pocket.
“Oh, but—” She’d
really rather just pay for the damage than deal with the insurance . . . and
have them raise her already-too-high rate. “Can we just handle it between
ourselves? Of course I’ll pay for the repairs.”
“You sure about that?”
He paused in tapping out the number.
“Yeah.” A nervous
laugh escaped. She’d just add it to the long list of bills she currently
struggled to pay. Maybe Nash would take it in installments for old times’ sake.
“Why deal with all that paperwork?”
“I can’t let you do
that.”
*****
Shelby wrapped her
arms around herself, the body language unmistakable. She nodded. “I’ll get my
insurance information.” She turned back to her car.
“No. I mean I can’t
let you pay out of pocket. And don’t worry about the insurance. The deductible
is probably more than what it would cost to repair the damage.” He could think
of a better way for her to repay him. “How about you buy me dinner instead and
we’ll call it even?”
She looked good, Nash
thought. Better than good. The pretty tomboy had grown into a beautiful woman.
She’d cut the long, light brown hair that as a teenager she’d worn almost
exclusively in a ponytail, so that it just touched her shoulders, and she’d
filled out in all the right places.
The shy smile was
still there, although he didn’t miss the sadness in her amber eyes. Or the fear
when he’d first approached her.
“What?” Confusion
skittered across her face.
No surprise there,
considering he was just as confused by his offer as she was.
He grinned. “You know,
the meal you have at the end of the day? In the South we call it supper, in
case you’ve forgotten.”
She’d lost some of
that innocence he’d found so appealing so many years ago. Along with her
accent. Guess that’s what happened when you received an Ivy League education.
She looked away and
then back at him. Her eyes narrowed. “I just nailed the back end of your car,
and you want me to have dinner with you?”
He had an
all-consuming urge to gather her in and hold her close until the tension in her
shoulders, and the sadness and fear in her eyes, retreated. But he doubted she
would accept his sympathy. After they’d both left for college, he’d tried to
hold onto their friendship despite the distance, but she never answered his
emails or phone calls.
He knew he’d hurt her
in high school when he took Leandra Lucas to prom instead of her, but he’d made
a promise to a friend, and he didn’t break promises.
“Yeah, why not? Catch
up. It’s been, what, eleven years since I saw you?” The day they’d graduated in
fact. Him with decent grades and a football scholarship, and her as class
Valedictorian. She’d headed off to Brown University for an accelerated program
in mathematics the following week, and he hadn’t laid eyes on her since. Not
even for their ten-year reunion last year.
She bit her lower lip
then drew it into her mouth, and his eyes locked on like a heat-seeking
missile. The memory of the sweet, hot kiss they’d shared in the back seat of
Ethan's 1993 Ford Mustang assaulted him.
“I don’t think that’s
a good idea.”
She was probably
right. He just nodded. Clearly, she hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done. Not
that he could really blame her. He should have been upfront with her then. She
would have understood. Maybe.
“I should probably
give you my number so you can get me the repair bills for your car if you
change your mind,” she said, returning his attention to the present.
“Right.” She stepped
close and a light, clean scent tickled his nose. Like lemons, only sweeter. He
tapped the number into his phone as she rattled it off to him, all the while
wondering whether she wore perfume or if it was her shampoo. “But I won’t.
Change my mind, I mean.”
“Okay. Well. Again,
I’m really sorry about . . .” Her voice trailed off as she indicated the
fender-bender.
“It’s just a car.
Nobody got hurt, and that’s the important thing.”
“I’ll see you around.”
Shelby rounded her car and climbed into the open driver’s side.
Realizing she couldn’t
leave until he moved his car, he turned to do just that, but couldn’t help but
wonder what twist of fate had brought Shelby Wentworth back into his life.
Rebecca
Heflin is an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction
since she was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss'
Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and
contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy
with her day-job as a practicing attorney.
Rebecca
is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA
Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her
mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.
