Free Tackled by the Girl Next Door by Veronica Forand, Susan Scott Shelley Page A

jammed his hands in his pockets. The mutinous look on his face abated as he studied Jason’s fighting stance. “Fine. We’ll walk to the store. Sam, you’re nothing but a downer. I can’t wait until the Thanksgiving break’s over. I want out of this house.” Calling for his friends to follow, he stomped across the lawn, cutting through her pile, scattering the leaves.
    Anger wrestled with hurt, and tears needled her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek until the urge to cry dissipated.
    “You okay?” Jason pulled her closer. Concern softened the hard angles of his face.
    Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Thanks for coming over.”
    “I was pulling in my driveway when I heard you yell.” He patted her shoulder. “You look like you’re freezing. I’ll take care of the leaves.”
    “No. I’ll finish out here. Or start over, I guess.” The cold wind tousled his dark hair as the sky deepened from orange to indigo. An espresso-colored lock hung in his eyes.
    “Come on, Sam, don’t make me fight you for the rake.” His smile could charm a genie from a bottle. She couldn’t deny him anything when he flashed her that full-on grin.
    “If you insist.” Hands shaky, she passed him the rake. “You might get a blister, though.”
    “Not using my hands for much else anymore. I don’t think a few blisters will slow me down.” His dry tone tugged a smile onto her face. Sporadic visits, some short, some long, had punctuated his many long absences as he chased around the country after a pigskin. The past few months of seeing him on a daily basis showed her how much she missed him when he was gone.
    “I guess I’ll get started on cleaning up Kevin’s party mess inside.” Her breath hitched. She turned toward the house, but his hand caught hers and halted her progress.
    “He’s lucky to have you.” Jason’s voice softened, and his warm fingers sent currents of heat tingling through her.
    “Kevin may not think he’s so lucky, but he’s stuck with me.” She wouldn’t break down, not in front of Jason. He’d been through enough without the added bother of having to comfort her again. Sam pasted a smile on her face and hurried inside, curling her fingers into her palm to trap the heat remaining from his touch.

Chapter Two
    Sunday
    A perfect autumn Sunday in Pennsylvania meant apple picking and football games. For Jason Black, it meant hiding out in Sam’s house away from his father’s pressure to tie up his old life in Los Angeles and make concrete plans for the future. He carried two large cups of coffee and a dozen donuts up to her front door. After shifting the balance of the cups from side to side, he opened the door and entered. He’d followed this ritual every Sunday since his return to Glynneath in September.
    “Sam? You home?”
    “I’ll be down in a minute. Take off your shoes so you don’t mess up my carpet.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled off his shoes and left them by the front door. Her two bedroom house was smaller than the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. His parents’ house stood next door, a four bedroom mostly uninhabited colonial, but size alone didn’t matter as much as comfort and fit. And Sam’s home fit Jason’s needs perfectly. The warm yellow walls and denim couch made it a sanctuary for a newly retired football player.
    He placed the coffee and the donuts on the table and then reclined across the couch in front of the 72-inch HD TV he’d bought for her so he didn’t miss a play on the screen. She’d been so angry at him when he had her box TV carted away, but he refused to watch the games on the puny thing she called a television. She finally gave in when he’d promised to donate another to the local children’s hospital.
    Sam hopped down the stairs in the same way she’d always arrived in the living room, skipping over the bottom two steps. She flopped onto the couch next to him, landing at his feet. Dressed in baggy sweatpants and a Penn State