inspects the content of his cup. “The good people of Ryder would disown me for one thing.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Are you kidding me? This town loves you. Have you seen that monstrous sign they’ve erected like a shrine to your accomplishments as you enter town?”
“Do you really want to talk about monstrous billboards?”
I laugh. “Good point. But you’re Ryder’s favorite son.”
“I am now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that until I learned to throw a football, this town had no use for me or my mom.”
“Why?”
He gets up and places his empty mug in the sink. He splays his hands on either side of the sink and stares out the kitchen window. “How much do you know about my dad and his brothers?”
“I’ve heard things, but most of what I know came from you.” The memory of him telling me about his abusive dad, and how he saved his mom, is why I’ve never been able to completely write him off as an arrogant, selfish athlete, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
“Yeah, well.” He cracks his knuckles and peers out the kitchen window. “They plagued this town with their illegal activity and general meanness for years.” He turns and rests his butt against the counter with his arms crossed. “There was more than one instance where my mom and I were asked to leave places because of our last name.”
“You’re kidding.”
He shakes his head. “I wish I were. Once, we were at the laundromat. I was maybe six and acting like a bored six-year-old, being loud and running around the place. I crawled up on the counter where my mom was folding clothes, and the owner yelled at me. He told my mom he shouldn’t be surprised that a King boy would act like a hellion, then he told us to get out of his establishment.”
He shakes his head at my appalled gasp.
“It wasn’t the last time something like that happened. My mom was never invited to social events in town. I remember this one time when she came home from the lady’s club meeting crying. They’d told her the membership was closed, and they weren’t taking new members, but she knew it wasn’t true because a woman she worked with had joined the day before.”
Tears prick against the back of my eyes at the thought of sweet Gracie King being shunned like that. “That’s terrible, Cash. I’m so sorry that happened.”
“Things like that happened all the time, until one night my freshman year, when my life changed in a single half of football. I stole the starting quarterback position from your ex that night.” He gives me an evil grin that communicates stealing Brad’s position was one of the highlights of his career.
“You have to know that the town loves you and doesn’t just see you for what you can do for them.”
“Oh, really? You did see those signs at the town meeting when they thought I’d rejected the grant proposal. It didn’t take long for them to turn on me.”
Guilt chokes at me. “That was probably my fault. I assumed you were the same person who did something crappy to me as a teenager.” I move to him and it’s my turn to make him look at me. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
He searches my face, and that same whirlpool of emotions swirls between us. I’m not sure who leans forward first, me or him. Either way, his lips hover over mine. The silent conversation goes on forever, and the moment hangs between us like a memory that never was. Before we can close the distance, his cell rings and breaks the spell that holds us captive.
I jerk and stumble back a few steps. It takes me a few seconds to get my wits about me.
He answers his phone while his predator’s gaze follows me to the other side of the kitchen. “This is Cash.”
I grab a dish towel and wipe down the bar where we were sitting, trying to calm my pounding pulse. I don’t even bother asking myself how that could’ve almost happened. I know how, and it’s why I didn’t want to hear his story. Now I’m emotionally invested, and I don’t want to be.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been emotionally invested in Cash King since we researched the oxygen production of brown and green seaweed under different color light. But the last thing I need is to play with the kind of fire that this man represents.