As they passed the den he noticed a trophy case on one wall as well as photos of Coach Gainer with celebrities, politicians and famous alums. The one Coach had taken with Kingsley and Hunter was notably absent.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked as she gestured to the farmhouse table in the sunny breakfast nook.
“Um... I’d like to just see Coach,” Hunter said.
As cute as she was, Hunter was here on business and flirting with the coach’s daughter had dumb written all over it.
“We have to talk first,” she said.
“Lemonade talk or whiskey?”
She gave him a smile. “Lemonade. What kind of conversations have you had that require whiskey?”
He watched her as she went and filled two glasses with lemonade. “More than you want to know.”
She handed him a glass and sat down across the table from him. “Coach had a stroke earlier this year and I’m not sure what he’d be able to say to you.”
A stroke?
“Is he okay?”
“The doctors say he will be. I’m here to help him recover and get back on track, but he doesn’t like the medicine—never mind that. He has his good days and his bad days. I just don’t know if he will talk to you or not.”
Well, hell. There were times when Hunter thought he was never going to have any peace about Stacia. Maybe that was fair. Maybe the universe was leveling things out because he hadn’t been able to protect her.
He didn’t know. Even his mom with all her faith couldn’t help him figure this one out.
“Can I try?” Hunter asked at last.
“Yes,” Ferrin said.
He finished his lemonade, but noticed she didn’t touch hers and that she kept staring at him.
Hell.
Did she recognize him?
“I don’t know all of Coach’s players. When did you play for him?”
“Ten years ago,” he said. He really didn’t want to mention Stacia until he had a chance to talk to Coach.
“Were you one of his famous players?” she asked.
“Sort of?”
“NFL, right? Quarterback?” she asked.
“No, that was my friend Kingsley. I was a wide receiver,” he said. Apparently she didn’t recognize him from the Frat House Murder scandal.
“Dad will be happy to see you. Let me take you to him,” Ferrin said, leading the way out of the kitchen. He tried to keep his eyes on the framed team portraits that lined the wall next to the curving stairs but his gaze kept skipping back to her hips. Her clothing wasn’t at all come-hither, but the way she moved drew him.
She paused at the top of the stairs. “This is your team, right?”
He leaped up the last two steps and stood next to her. Yeah, that was them. Before everything had happened. He was standing next to Clive and Kingsley. God, he looked young.
And sappy. Who smiled that big for a group photo?
A guy who thought he was going to be a big-time NFL star and thought the world was his oyster, that’s who.
“That was a long time ago.”
She didn’t respond but continued walking down the hall to the last door on the left. She opened it and gestured for him to stay in the doorway.
“Coach?” she called. “You have a visitor.”
“Who is it, sunshine?” The words were slurred and as Ferrin pushed the door open further, Hunter noticed that the strong coach he remembered was now a shell of that man.
Sunshine? Coach had never seemed the type of man to give anyone a nickname. But he was seeing a different side of him.
“Hunter. He used to play football for you,” Ferrin said.
“Hunter Caruthers?”
“Yes, sir, he wants to talk to you,” Ferrin said. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll see him.”
* * *
Ferrin went downstairs to her father’s den to work while Hunter visited with the coach. She was working on an article for a small magazine that she wrote for, but the ocean just outside the French doors distracted her. So did the man upstairs. She knew few details about Hunter but his piercing green eyes and disheveled dark hair lingered in her mind as she tried to work. Instead of typing in the Word document she had opened she was tempted to launch her internet search engine and see what she could find out about him.
But she knew what she’d find. Athlete, NFL superstar. Probably had more confidence than Hercules after he’d done all of his labors. It didn’t matter that she’d come here to forget her last breakup and figure out her messed-up relationship with her dad. Her mom had made an offhand comment that perhaps by not resolving the past she was repeating it by dating men who were emotionally unavailable.
Ugh.
Her mom was right but still.
Hunter...he intrigued her.
Why?
Because being attracted to a former player was easier to deal with than her dad. She knew that. Her daddy issues weren’t all that exotic or hard to figure out.
It was boring here at her father’s house. Especially since he wouldn’t really see her except at mealtimes.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she quickly saved the article she’d been writing and jumped up to see who was coming.
Hunter.
He looked...well, almost angry.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“You seem upset,” she said.
“Upset? You don’t spend a lot of time with men, do you?” he asked.
“I do,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business. Why would you say that?”
“Sorry, Ferrin, I’m pissed, not upset. I guess maybe you hang out with a classier group of men than I do.”
She doubted it. Stuffier maybe, but classier? She wouldn’t call the psych department classy. “Pissed, eh? Why? I told you he’s not really recovered yet.”
“I know,” Hunter said, then gave her a look that was, well, calculating. “Coach said that the college had sent everything from his office over here. I was wondering—could I take a look at it?”
“Why?”
“Well, the truth is, I needed some information I thought Coach had. He can’t remember the details but I know that they used to keep track of some of that stuff.”
“What stuff?” she asked.
“Videotapes from workouts at the gym and stuff from the practice field,” he said. “Would you consider letting me look through the boxes?”
“What did Coach say?”
“Nothing. He didn’t answer me when I asked. In fact, he didn’t say much while I was in there,” Hunter said.
That was strange, she thought. “I wonder why. He loves to relive the glory days.”
“I’m searching for some answers about things that happened in old college football days. I was really hoping Coach could help.”
The sincerity