The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

I am not obsessed with Logan Murphy. He’s a football player.

Not to mention, I almost killed him with a ghost pepper the first time we ever met.

Yet all night, I tossed and turned, thinking of his strong hand gripping the front of his shirt, fingers digging into his stomach as if to keep them from digging into me.

I failed at blocking out the heat in his dark blue eyes as he towered over me, telling me I couldn’t control who I fell for and I was crazy to think I could.

He didn’t need to tell me. My hormones were screaming it in my ears.

He’s not like the other jocks who hang around my brothers. He’s smart and thoughtful. He notices when I need help and gives it to me.

To be honest, he got me when he picked up Kimmie Joy without hesitation. When his large hand rubbed her small back as she buried her face in his neck.

My niece has never taken to a stranger that way, and I can only guess she did it because they’re both hot pepper survivors.

Riding my bike to Jack’s house this morning, I glance out over the bay as the sun slowly rises in the east. A group of pelicans glide in a V formation over the water, and a hazy mist in the distance is colored pink and yellow and bright blue.

No one was up when I left the house, and I almost tapped on Logan’s door to be sure he was awake. I don’t know if he was able to sleep last night, or if he was even affected by what happened between us in the kitchen.

Maybe this is all in my head, and I’m imagining this intense pull between us. It’s possible he’s simply being friendly, offering advice, joking around like anyone might do. Perhaps I was with Davis so long, I lost sight of what it’s like to be around someone not trying to control me or press me into some mold that doesn’t fit.

It doesn’t matter. He might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and he might be thoughtful and kind and great with kids and notices when I need help with the dishes. He’s Garrett’s best friend, and on top of all of that, he’s a football player.

I don’t date football players.

“Hey, good morning.” My brother holds the screen door open as I park my bike by the porch. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Kimmie’s still asleep, so you’ll have the place to yourself a little while longer.”

“You ready for today?” I trot up the steps to where my oldest brother waits.

“Ready as I ever am.” He gives me a brief hug before heading out to his old red truck.

I know he has a love-hate relationship with this time of year. As much as he enjoys coaching and fielding the strongest possible team, he secretly hates having to tell boys they’re not starting material or worse. They didn’t make the cut.

I know that’s why he’s glad Garrett is here. If anyone can give bad news in a way that will leave you smiling, it’s Garrett.

Jack is so much like our dad with floppy brown hair that hangs over his eyes. He’s tall and lean like the former quarterback he is, and he’s every bit the natural-born star our father was. Dad was a legend, and Jack followed right in his footsteps.

It’s a thought that tightens my stomach when I think about how our dad died. Jack was only twenty. He’d just graduated early from State, and he was the first-round draft pick for the Texas Mustangs.

He stood in front of that casket, we all stood there, knowing our lives would never be the same. Then he straightened and told us all what we were going to do. He went on to Texas, playing five years before retiring at the top of his game.

Zane was old enough to keep an eye on us when Jack went away. He went to college across the bay while the rest of us got four years older. It was the time required for me to mature into taking care of myself, and when Garrett graduated, he was able to leave for college in Tuscaloosa.

Hendrix went to USC and never came back. He loves sunny California and living like a rockstar. He’s only a year older than me—Irish twins is what they called us—but we couldn’t be more different. I’ve grown to love the quiet, small-town life here with my friends and family.

Losing our parents was the hardest thing we’d ever gone through. To me, it was second only to the loss of my dancing dreams, and it bonded us in a way nothing ever could. We held onto each other and didn’t get into trouble. We looked out for each other, and I always knew I had four guys protecting me no matter what.

It helped we lived in a small community that rallied around us as well. Ten years later, I can see how lucky we were to be in Newhope.

On this rare cool morning in July, looking out over the bay, I can still hear my mamma singing “The Bluest Eyes in Texas.” We didn’t know when she passed our father would follow right behind her. I only knew when you see someone you love in so much pain, all you want is for that pain to end. Even if it means having to say goodbye.

Sitting in a swing on the screened-in back porch at my brother’s house facing the water, I think about how everyone in town was ready to lift us up and bring us casseroles.

That’s one thing you learn early living on the Gulf Coast with hurricanes blowing in every other year and folks needing help and getting older and trees falling and whatnot. Not the casseroles part, the taking care of each other part. We always come together in times of need.

Just like Kimmie Joy, who became like my own daughter after her mother took off one fall night without a word. Jack found her living in Oklahoma, shacked up with some old boy and singing in night clubs on the weekends.

He didn’t care about any of that. He only wanted her signature on the papers that said they were divorced and giving up any claim she had on their sassy little girl. Now she prances around here just like I did, thinking it’s her job to keep all the big people in line.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” I tease as she walks out onto the back porch, rubbing her eyes and frowning before climbing into my lap.

Her curly head is on my shoulder, and I swing us gently, sliding my hand up and down her back. She’s never been much of a morning person, but I like waking up slowly, too.

She’ll be marching around here soon enough.

The cool of the morning evaporates with the rising sun, and when she starts getting sweaty, she slides off my lap.

“Are you going to make pancakes for breakfast?” She takes my hand so I’ll get off the swing and get cooking. “Austin always makes pancakes on Friday. He says it’s T-G-I-F.”

Allie’s son has been babysitting Jack’s daughter the last two summers since his mom started working with me at the restaurant. In the past, Kimmie stayed with me during the summers, but I think my oldest brother saw the same way I did their little family could use the money.

Now with Austin going out for the team, I’m back to babysitting, which I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ve missed her funny little ways.

“You’re coming with me to the restaurant. I’ll make cheesy scrambled eggs or if Uncle Craig is there, you might be able to convince him to make you pancakes. If you ask nicely.”

She nods slowly. “I know how to ask nicely. Daddy taught me.”

“That’s good.” I pat her bottom. “Run get dressed so we can get going.”

We’re pedaling up to Cooters & Shooters a few minutes later with her behind me on my bike in a detachable plastic seat and a bike helmet on her head.

Allie’s already in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chewing her nail when we enter. I go straight to the coffee pot as my niece runs all around looking for Craig.

“You okay?” I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Need one of these?”

“If I drink any more coffee I’ll get the shakes.” She goes to the dishwasher and starts unloading utensils.

I dump half and half in my coffee and grab a stack of napkins, frowning as I watch her. “Are you worried about Austin?”

“It’s his first time trying out, and he’s been practicing so hard. Every afternoon, he throws that football through the tire. He jogs all the way to the bay and back. He watches all the old games, studying the way Jack played.”

“He wants to be a quarterback?” I grab a fork and a knife and roll them in a napkin.

Kimmie returns. “He’s not here.”

“Sit tight, and I’ll scramble some eggs for you.”

Allie takes over rolling up the utensils while I take a carton of eggs and a container of shredded cheese out of the refrigerator.

“He doesn’t just want to be a quarterback, he wants to be a Jack Bradford quarterback.”

“And he’s never played before?”

“His elementary school had flag football.” She grabs a napkin and rolls up another set of utensils. “He played that.”

She’s moving so fast, we’ll have enough utensils rolled up through Sunday. I crack two eggs into the warm pan and sprinkle cheese over them, waiting for them to bubble. Kimmie joins me, taking a piece of bread and putting it in the toaster like I’ve taught her.

“Flag football is actually much safer for younger players.” I don’t like to keep harping on the same old string, but if I had sons, it would be hard for me to let them play tackle football with their brains still developing.

“I don’t know where this sudden interest in the game is coming from. Do you think it’s because of his dad?”

Allie hasn’t told me much about her ex, other than he was into drugs and now he’s in the state penitentiary. He was a dealer, but from what she hasn’t told me—what I’ve only gathered by observing her cautious behavior—he was also abusive.

Their divorce was finalized before she ever came here, but she said he threatened to find her when he got out. The good news is his chances of getting out are slim to none, according to my friend.

A big part of her motive for moving to Newhope was to start over where his threats and bad reputation weren’t hanging over their heads.

“I’ve never known a guy who didn’t want to play football.” Other than Davis, I think, and I see how that worked out for me. “Jack does have that father vibe on lock, though. He slid right into the job when our dad died without missing a beat.”

She chews her lip, rolling the last set of silverware. “What’s going to happen if he doesn’t make the team?”

“Hey.” I put my hand on her arm. “The good news is my brother rarely cuts any of the boys who try out. He always finds a place for them, even if it’s only third string.”

“Austin will be devastated if he’s third string.”

“If he’s been working as hard as you say, Jack will see it.” I glance up at the clock, thinking about what’s been on my mind since last night.

I’d love to see Logan in action, and Allie will feel better if she can get a peek at how her son is doing.

“It looks like you’ve got us more than ready for the lunch crowd.”

“I couldn’t stay at the house alone, so I came up here after Austin left this morning.”

“What if we took a little break and rode out to the high school to check on them? We could bring the coaches coffee or something. Or just blame Kimmie Joy.” I slide the cheesy scrambled eggs into a small paper to-go box, quickly buttering her toast.

“What did I do?” Kimmie frowns up at me, and I forget she’s not three years old anymore.

“You want to see what your ole buddy Austin is doing, don’t you?” I muss her curly hair.

“He’s just running up and down the football field like they all do.” She wiggles her body side to side as she nibbles her toast.

“Let’s pretend you want to see what he’s doing. Or your daddy.”

“Daddy’s just blowing the whistle and yelling at them to go long or follow the method or keep your eyes on the ball!”

The way she says it is so much like my brother, I can’t help a laugh. “Then just eat your eggs, and don’t blow our cover.”

Her button nose wrinkles, and I haul her onto my hip, my heart beating faster at the prospect of seeing Logan again.

“Good catch, Jordy!” Garrett slaps the scrawny kid on the back. “You’ll make first string in a few years for sure with that hustle.”

“Thanks, Mr. G!” The boy beams, and it’s official. My brother can break bad news to anybody and leave them smiling. It’s all in the delivery.

Standing at the fence, I watch the boys running up and down the field. Logan is beside Jack on the sidelines. They both have their arms crossed, brows lowered watching. Garrett is out there with Jack’s assistant coach Buddy Outlaw, laughing and pointing, calling plays, and throwing the ball.

Buddy works the defensive line, and he has Garrett showing the bigger boys how to guard the runners or block the passes.

“It’s a lot of boys.” Allie’s voice is worried, and I spot Austin on the line, waiting to run at the snap.

“It looks like they’ve got him as a running back. I can’t tell if that’s wide receiver or tight end.” I sip my coffee, and Kimmie wiggles to get off my hip.

“That’s more than I know,” Allie quips.

“Don’t go on the field.” I call after my niece as she skips away from us.

“I know.” She shakes her head like duh then she takes off running in the direction of Jack and Logan. “Daddy! Daddy! We brought you coffee!”

My teeth clench, and I’m afraid he’s going to fuss at me. His arms uncross, and she’s on his hip in a sweep, his eyes never leaving the team. He says something to Logan, who nods and jogs onto the field while my brother walks in our direction.

“Everything okay?” Jack frowns, and I know he’s confused about why we’re here.

I know as well as anyone this is an intense week for him, and he doesn’t appreciate distractions.

“I wasn’t sure if you got any breakfast before you left this morning.” I hold out one of the breakfast burritos we grabbed along with the coffees when we went through the drive-through.

“I don’t really have time to eat right now, Dylan.”

“How’s your first day?” Widening my eyes, I tilt my head to the side in the direction of Allie, doing my best to play it off like I’m cracking my neck.

He puts his daughter on her feet, pressing his lips together. I know he doesn’t like talking about his process, especially not with parents, but they’re a special case.

“We’ve got some good talent on the field this year.” He nods, glancing out to where Logan is talking to the running backs. “A lot of potential on the offensive line.”

Relief breaks across Allie’s face, and her eyes glow as she watches my brother. She so obviously adores him.

“We shouldn’t be bothering you.” She touches my arm. “Come on, Dylan, let’s get back to the restaurant.”

“We can stay a few minutes longer,” I argue. “Let’s watch them get off a few plays.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You can stay.”

Allie chews her bottom lip, and Jack walks to the side, giving his whistle a brief tweet. Garrett claps, and he says something to the bigger boys, who line up in front. The boys are split with half playing offense and half playing defense, and the way they practice is how they’ll play on the field during games.

It’s all second nature to me after years of hanging out with my dad and my brothers, listening to them talk. I might not watch them every week, but I know how it goes.

A taller boy I recognize as Harry Wilcox, cousin to Stephanie, stands in the middle calling the play.

“I’m pretty sure Harry’s a junior this year,” I tell Allie. “Jack will probably make him QB-1.”

Her brow furrows, and I explain. “First-string quarterback.”

“Right, I knew that.” She nods quickly. “That makes sense if he’s a junior. Austin is only a freshman.”

“If he makes the team as a freshman, that’s a really good sign. Jack doesn’t just put guys on the team he doesn’t believe should be there.”

Her eyes are wide, and she nods. I’m not sure I made her feel better.

My eyes go to Logan. He’s on the other side of the field watching them, studying how they respond, their decision-making skills under pressure. How instinctive they are or aren’t.

Today, he’s in jeans and a white tee, and his muscular arms are crossed. His square jaw is tight, and he has that same air of concentrated leadership as my brother. It’s hot as fuck, and it makes me wonder if he was a team captain at some point in his career.

I do not think how I’d let him be captain in my bedroom.

Okay, I do, but he’s a football player. I have boundaries.

The boys break and start to move, and his large hands go to his hips as his eyes scan the players. My lips part, and I wish I didn’t fantasize about how they’d feel pressing against mine, against my skin…

I just have to be strong for a few more weeks, and he’ll be gone, back to New York with my brother. A whisper of sadness sneaks through my chest, and I exhale a little groan, tearing my eyes away from his physique.

“He’s going long!” Allie’s voice tenses.

She grabs my arm, and my attention flickers back to the field, where Austin is making a break from the line.

Garrett yells to one of the bigger boys, who makes a quick pivot to block a defensive tackle headed straight for Allie’s son. Harry rears back and fires off a tight spiral. Allie and I grab each other’s hands, holding our breaths and gripping the other tightly as the ball shoots through the air like a bullet.

Austin reaches out. My stomach pitches, and Allie whimpers as it bounces off the tips of his fingers. It looks like it’s a fumble, until at the very last second he seems to stretch an additional inch. His hand curls, and he grabs it, pulling the ball tight into his chest as he crosses the line.

“He caught it!” I scream so loud.

Allie jumps up and down beside me, coffee splashing through the top of the white lid as she cries. “He did it! He completed the pass!”

Even Kimmie Joy is jumping up and down and pumping her little fists over her head. “Austin! Austin! Austin!”

The guys gang up, slapping each other on the back. The bigger boy who blocked the tackle lifts Austin off the ground, and Garrett is right in there, giving out compliments and making constructive notes with equal measures of enthusiasm.

I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, and I’m breathing like I just finished a sprint. Damn football. I wish it wasn’t so destructive, because it’s thrilling as hell.

Logan’s eyes land on mine, and a zip of electricity shoots through my stomach. He smiles, lifting his chin before jogging across the field to where we’re standing.

My breath tightens in my chest the closer he gets. I blink away from his approaching frame, and now I’m the one having trouble keeping still. I shove a lock of hair behind my ear, and I scramble, trying to think of something to say.

“Hey.” He’s not even winded when he reaches us. “Austin’s looking good out here today, Allie. That’s your son, right?”

She nods, her face glowing with pride. “He’s a freshman.”

“Jack told me that.” He glances back at the field.

“He did?” Her voice rises, and I can tell she’s pleased Coach Bradford is keeping tabs on him.

But of course, he is. My older brother might not see her obvious crush, but he knows Allie is my friend. He knows their situation, and he’s empathetic.

The big heart my oldest brother hides behind his stern exterior is one of the things I love most about him.

“He’s got a lot of natural talent,” Logan continues. “He just needs training.”

Allie is positively beaming. “He’s hoping to be a quarterback one day.”

“It’s not out of the question.” Logan straightens, and his confidence melts my insides. “I expect Jack will find a place for him.”

Our eyes meet then, and my mind blanks. He’s so tall and handsome, and he’s being really nice to my friend… And the way he looks at me sometimes makes me forget where I am.

Snap out of it, Dylan. I’ve never been like this with a man before.

“I thought you didn’t watch the games.” He gives me a sly grin, like we’re sharing a secret.

“I can make exceptions.” I do my best to be coy.

“Good to know.” He leans his forearms on the fence. “What’s in the bag?”

I blink up at him, stretching like a flower in the sunshine. “I wasn’t sure if you and Garrett had any breakfast. I left before y’all were up this morning.”

“No ghost peppers, I hope.”

“Not today, Fire Eater.” I can’t resist teasing him with Craig’s nickname. “We only make the Dare dish once a week.”

“That’s Lightning to you, and I’ve learned my lesson about touching things without permission. You’re dangerous.” I’m pretty sure he means it as a joke, but we hesitate when our fingers brush as I hand him the bag.

Jack’s whistle tweets again, breaking the spell, and Logan takes a step back, pointing at me as he breaks into a trot. “I still owe you one.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, and I clear my throat so I don’t giggle. I need to grab the reins, because I’m acting as obvious as a high schooler. If I’m not careful, people will start to notice.

Allie nudges me with her elbow, and when I look at her, she’s giving me the side-eye.

Too late.

“I guess we can get back to the restaurant now, Miss Dangerous. I’m sure Craig will be wondering where we are.”

“Let’s go!” I lift my chin, doing my best to dish it right back. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Coach Bradford seems to have that effect on you.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She spins away, heading for the parking lot, and I huff a laugh. “I’m sure you don’t.”

I call to Kimmie, waving to the guys before leading her back to my friend’s waiting car.