Chapter Two

The airport display was ridiculous. Two sets of parents, holding two huge signs that screamed Welcome and We love you in glitter paint. They yelled her name like she was a rock star, too, and although it caused her cheeks to flare, Julie loved every second of it.

Mom and Darlene squealed as she rounded the barrier to the waiting area of the tiny Crystal Springs airport, and then she was swept up in a hurricane of affection. The moms teared up, embraced her, and bussed her on the cheek, while the dads seemed to be having a competition involving who could give her the most bone-crushing hug.

“Do you know what happens when lungs are deprived of oxygen for too long?” Julie wheezed.

“I’m sure you’ll use that big brain of yours to tell me,” Dad said.

“It gradually destroys the alveoli—”

“Is that a type of pasta?” Rashad asked, rubbing a hand over his nonexistent belly. At six foot seven, he stood head and shoulders above most people. His height, lean build, and countless hours of hard work had landed him a college basketball scholarship. He’d often caught the ire of Mom and Darlene for his ability to eat and eat without gaining a pound while they were constantly on some new diet program. “Now I’m getting hungry.”

Julie groaned and shook her head, going overboard on the dramatics—how else would the guys know their dad jokes had landed? She slipped off her gray and pink bubble backpack carrier to check on how Kylo Ren had survived all the hugging. While he appeared slightly irritated, his eyes narrowed to judgmental slits of green, that was also just sorta his face.

She switched her attention to the two couples in front of her, biting back a smile at Rashad and Darlene’s matching outfits. Apparently when they first settled in Crystal Springs, Colorado, people told them they didn’t look like a family, seemingly confused at how Darlene had Black children and Rashad’s children had slightly fairer complexions than he did. For petty reasons, they’d begun to coordinate so they could “help all the poor confused souls.”

Along the way, they’d decided it was fun and easy. Now they bought most of their clothes in pairs, and they currently had on identical gray and purple windbreakers with lime green trim.

“Have you talked to Gavin since the game?” Julie asked them, unable to hold back her worries anymore.

A sad smile flitted across Darlene’s lips. “Just through text. Of course he says he’s fine, but…”

The sinking stomach sensation made it hard to maintain the happy vibes. Under other circumstances, she’d celebrate that they suddenly had five extra days with Gavin. While Julie had always enjoyed football, she’d fully gone down the rabbit hole once he snagged the starting quarterback position their sophomore year. Plus, everything was more intense when your best friend’s hopes and dreams were on the line.

After three seasons playing backup for the Pythons, he’d signed on to play for the Mustangs, where he was finally starting games and getting the recognition he deserved. Last night she’d been glued to her TV during the intense, agonizingly close fourth quarter. A defender from the other team sacked Gavin, causing him to land hard on his already tender shoulder, and her heart had beat out of control as she attempted to pluck the dude off him through the screen.

The instant the camera homed in on Gavin’s face, she knew he wasn’t okay.

“Gavin’s flight is due to land in twenty minutes.” Darlene stretched out her hand and squeezed Julie’s fingers. “Don’t worry, hon. We’ll get him home, hear the prognosis, and go from there.”

Prognosis.

Usually that was a word she loved. It meant answers, and that was what being a pathology assistant was all about. After a surgeon removed a problematic growth or tumor, she dissected and dug deeper to figure out the cellular makeup and check if the margins were clear—in other words, if the surgeon had gotten the entire tumor out. With a proper diagnosis, the doctors would be able to provide the patient with the right treatment.

But when it came to Gavin and his shoulder…

It wasn’t the first time he’d injured it, but she refused to think about what would happen if he’d be out for the rest of the season. Last year, the Mustangs had come in dead last, not a single game won.

They hadn’t had Gavin Frost at that time, though.

The current season started bumpy, with a heap of growing pains along the way—as most teams did under a new coach, new management, or big roster changes. Thanks to former quarterback and current owner Lance Quaid, who’d inherited the team from his grandfather last spring, firing the entire front line and then signing Gavin, the Mustangs had all three.

As they’d begun winning more and more games and found their stride, morale had grown—for both the team and the fans. Gavin was the one who encouraged his teammates and challenged them to keep going. To pick themselves up and retaliate with a touchdown or field goal of their own.

He’s strong, and he’ll get this week to rest up, and it’ll all be okay. It has to be.

“When is the last time you saw Gavin, anyway?” Mom asked, smoothing down strands of Julie’s hair and trying to tuck the sections that’d come loose from the elastic into the rest of her ponytail. “Your hair is doing something weird—did you sleep on it? Maybe you want to duck into the bathroom and fix it. Ooh, and I have some lipstick in my purse, too.”

“Mom.” Julie smacked her hand away. “Gavin and I haven’t been in the same place since that long weekend in May, but we constantly FaceTime. And trust me, he doesn’t care about my messy ponytail or lack of lipstick.”

Mom sighed and cast Darlene a sidelong glance, as if Julie was the one making this difficult instead of their meddling.

“Just indulge your poor mother whom you haven’t visited in forever.” She followed the comment with a pat on the arm, as if that’d make the guilt-trip remark nicer, and then pressed a tube of lipstick into Julie’s palm.

Sometimes it was easier to just go along, so without bothering with a mirror, Julie slicked on the coral shade with warm undertones that would undoubtedly amp up her pale factor and make her look like Dead Hooker #3 on one of those procedural TV shows—they got a lot of the medical stuff wrong, FYI, something she often ranted to Gavin and Kylo Ren about.

“Peggy, I’m thirsty,” Dad said, linking his arm through Mom’s. “Let’s go grab drinks and snacks.” He cast Julie a wink that said you’re welcome and you owe me, and Darlene muttered she should grab food to tide her over as well and followed after.

Rashad took hold of the handle on Julie’s roller suitcase and guided it and her to a nearby bench. He kicked out his long legs and folded his hands across his stomach. “So, tell me…” She winced, already preparing a list of reasons why everyone’s matchmaking attempts were in vain, but then he added, “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in your lab lately?”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” she teased, and he leaned closer, naked curiosity in his expression. She tucked her leg underneath her. “Would you rather hear about the hairball that was removed from a stomach—it was as big as my hand, I kid you not—or the benign ovarian tumor with teeth? Oh, and there was also a guy with type two diabetes who had to have part of his penis amputated. Wild, right?”

Rashad dropped a protective hand to his crotch, and she laughed.

“See. I told you that you might not be able to handle it.”

“Sure, but I didn’t expect… That’s a thing? Some poor dude’s out there without part of his…?” He shuddered and held up his hands. “Don’t answer that. Maybe just tell me about the tumors.”

Thrilled that someone found her work interesting, she went into all the gory details, pulling out her phone to show off pictures. Bonus, once the moms returned and caught wind of the conversation, they gave her and the dads a wide berth.

“Ed, did you tell her about the sleeping arrangements?” Mom called their way, and Julie blinked at Dad and Rashad, afraid to ask and afraid not to. But before she could even open her mouth, a joyful cry came from Darlene.

“Gavin’s flight just landed.” She waved her phone at them, as if they’d need proof, although she was too far away and moved the screen too quickly for them to see much of anything.

Sure enough, a rush of people began coming up the tiny walkway. In a town of about three thousand people, only three or four flights landed per day, so it was highly likely Gavin would be among the crowd. Most people from Crystal Springs were uber proud of their famous football star but left him alone for the most part.

Well, they were still nosy and said hi and shot the breeze, but they’d do that with anyone—local or visitor—and there weren’t any paparazzi or the frenzy of fans and reporters that Gavin had to deal with elsewhere. In a lot of ways, the articles she’d read and video footage of him before and after a game felt like another version of her best friend, one who was more career-oriented and guarded than the boy she grew up with.

Rashad nudged his elbow into her side as Dad patted her knee, and the both of them gave her giant, canary-eating grins.

“Don’t you guys start.” Clearly neither father would mind if she and Gavin decided to be more than friends, but their mothers were the real driving force behind the Julie-plus-Gavin-equals-true-love-and-grandkids movement.

“Don’t matter if we start,” Dad said. “Those two have it in their heads, so we’re just going to sit back and enjoy the show.”

Julie tsked, and the dads had the audacity to widen their grins. This whole situation was basically like football Sunday for them, getting to sit back and watch the plays unfold—they’d probably made bets on it, too.

Rashad nudged her off the bench. “Go on. You know you want to, even if it’s not because you’re wildly in love and playing into their puppeteer hands. He needs you right now.”

That tugged at her heartstrings and had her jumping to her feet. “You’ll watch your grandson, right?”

Both men gave her crinkled brow expressions.

“Kylo Ren, hello.”

“I’ve got him,” Dad said, patting the backpack and earning a grumpy meow. With that settled, Julie rushed over to where Mom and Darlene stood, the same big signs they’d greeted her with in hand. As the influx of people reached the end of the walkway, Julie tipped onto her toes, trying to spot Gavin in the crowd.

“Dude, I’m telling you,” a teenage kid said with a backward glance. “That’s him. Gavin Frost totally grew up here. My sister dated him for a while, and he taught me the trick to a good buttonhook pass.”

Julie almost asked who his family was, since she didn’t recognize the teen but would undoubtedly know his sister, but she had other priorities to fry. As long as he wasn’t Kristin’s little brother—which would be awkward but also impossible, considering she was the youngest of her family—it didn’t much matter.

Not here and now, anyway.

While she’d stop it if she could, an uncomfortable run-in with his ex was practically inevitable. Still, she’d rather it be after he’d had more time to process his injury and what it meant for his career. That was one of the few downsides of coming home, she supposed, the way the past superimposed itself over everything else.

With his being so freaking tall—although his father still had four inches on him—she spotted the top of Gavin’s russet curls. Her excitement spread until it was all she felt, leaving her fighting the urge to sprint through the crowd and throw her arms around him.

Hands shoved at her back, pushing her forward and taking away the option of playing it cool. Like Dad and Rashad had said, regardless of what anybody else said or did, their moms had it in their heads they could force them across the friends’ line.

Might as well stop fighting the hug impulse and go with it.

She took one step, and then Gavin picked up his pace, bobbing and weaving around the slower-moving clusters of people. A squeal she’d sworn she was going to keep inside escaped as she reached him, and she went for a hug, forgetting what a stretch it was for her and thinking she should’ve gone for the waist instead of the neck.

But then he wrapped his left arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet, squeezing her tight to his chest, his low laughter filling her ear. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too. Did you get even taller?”

“Nah. They bumped me up an inch on the roster to make me sound more impressive, but I think you’ve just forgotten how short you are.” He lowered her to her feet and peered down at her.

She frowned up at him. “I’m average.”

“Jules, ain’t nothing about you that’s average. You excel at two things: whatever you put your mind to and shortness.”

She smacked his arm, and they shared a chuckle. Her eyes probed beneath the jacket he’d draped over his shoulders—probably to hide the brace and accompanying sling from the prying eyes of the media in San Antonio—and worry bobbed its barbed head.

“Not yet,” Gavin said. “I don’t want to get into it here.”

“Okay,” she said, conjuring a cheery smile. For some reason, it made two creases form between his eyebrows, and why was he staring at her like that? “What?”

“That lipstick is…bold. It’s just throwing me off a little—not that it looks bad or anything.”

“You used to be a much better liar. But long story short, my mom thought you’d see my naked lips and be like Whoa, she’s really let herself go. She’ll be so thrilled to hear that you also think it makes me look like a streetwalker.”

“I never said that, and if you tell Peggy I did, I’ll be forced to ask her when’s the last time she moved the couch in the living room.”

Julie gasped. “You wouldn’t—you know how she gets about the carpet.”

“Not unless you give me a reason.” He slung his uninjured arm around her shoulders and started toward their families. Naturally, their moms were glowing, thinking their nefarious plan had worked and they were now officially in love after one hug.

The next instant, both sets of parents were surging forward and throwing their arms around him, and there were cheek kisses and bro-hugs with hard pats on the backs.

After giving everyone a few minutes to catch up, they gathered their belongings, pulled on their coats, and headed through the parking lot.

“Just so you know,” Julie said as she inclined her head toward Gavin. “I also got the big signs. Notice how they said ‘Welcome’ and ‘We love you’ without specifying the names? I mean, technically, that means you got the recycled version. Since I’ve literally watched your ego grow bigger and bigger this year, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks for treating me like a normal person.” Gavin bumped his hip into hers, and she stumbled and corrected her balance. “I’m so sick of people treating me like a superstar.”

“Yeah, I’m there for you in a big way with that,” she said with a laugh. After months in a place with two seasons—hot and too hot—the accompanying puff of white air amped up the Home for the Holidays sensation. “Which also reminds me that I should mock you for needing a ginormous suitcase for one week, while I fit two weeks’ worth in a carry-on.”

Not that either of them were hauling their suitcases, as the dads relieved them of their baggage—despite Gavin’s protests that he could roll his own. “Oh, that’s right. You know how to pack a hundred outfits in a suitcase the size of a shoebox.”

“Not quite.” She liked to stick to strictly carry-on size, because along with being overly analytical, she was the tiniest bit of a control freak, but it almost hadn’t worked out this trip. Once she’d tossed in the hot pink bikini, everything else looked like that dreaded word she was really beginning to loathe: “boring.”

So yesterday between work and the game, she’d gone emergency shopping and bought a few sexy bra and panties sets so she’d be ready for fling action at a moment’s notice. She’d also bought a skimpy nightie. Preparation was key, and her ratty T-shirt and cat-print pajama pants didn’t exactly scream do-me-nice-and-hard.

Which again, she couldn’t get away with saying, regardless of it being completely accurate.

Perhaps she should wait and have her fling the next time she visited Gavin in San Antonio, because as she took in his size again, she thought that if anyone could fulfill a request like that, it’d be a guy with his stature and stamina. Obviously not him, but he had about fifty teammates to choose from, and surely one of them wouldn’t mind a night of helping her hit her sexual stride. Whatever it took to prevent being called lackluster ever again.

Her heart knotted, and she automatically rubbed at the aching spot in her chest.

“You okay?” Gavin asked.

“Yeah. I was just thinking about Jason Holt actually.”

Gavin’s whiskey-colored eyes narrowed. “What about him?”

“I’ve enjoyed chatting with him here and there and thought that maybe I should meet him sometime.”

The abruptness with which Gavin snagged her arm and stopped caused a record-screech sound in her head. “Why?”

Julie shrugged a shoulder. “He’s got a good sense of humor, and I like that I can tease him without him getting all hurt. Plus there’s the whole smokin’ hot thing.”

“He’s also a huge player.”

“I know, and that’s okay. Not to mention, someone could say the same thing about you.”

“Considering I haven’t had sex for the better part of a year, I doubt that.”

Julie’s mouth dropped. “You haven’t had sex in a year?” Her voice came out shrill and too loud, and she grimaced as their parents turned around.

Please say they didn’t hear that, please say they didn’t hear that. Given that they’d been having their own conversation and had gained ten yards or so since Gavin had pulled her to a stop, the odds weren’t too high.

“Are you two coming, or what?” Mom hollered, and Julie glanced at Gavin. Their eyes locked, and she couldn’t help herself.

“Apparently not, if you haven’t had sex in a year and I’ve also been in a drought,” she whispered with a snicker. “No coming for us.”

Gavin shook his head, but the corners of his lips twisted up. Then he ran his hand over his mouth and raised his voice. “Yeah, Julie’s just a little, uh, frustrated. Short legs and all, it’s hard for her to keep up with me. Not to mention, she hasn’t had my endurance training.”

“Jackass,” she whispered, and he reached out and tugged on her ponytail.

The rest of her froze as a tingle zipped across her scalp. For the record, the tingles didn’t have anything to do with Gavin. She merely had a sensitive scalp, and she also kinda had this thing about having her hair being pulled.

And he’d pulled her hair, so… She stifled the shiver that attempted to travel down her spine and tucked her fingers into the straps of her cat backpack. Evidently she was so sexually deprived that a little hair pulling sent all the wrong signals through her body. The fact that she never could bring herself to ask for hair play and only knew she liked it because of her college boyfriend had also amped up her reaction.

Yeah, that was definitely it.

The hint of panic led her to do the super mature thing and say, “Beat you there.”