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?”