CHAPTER EIGHT
As a third night passedwithout Taylor, Roberta was feeling lonesome. Besides Sara, she didn’t have any friends in Melville. It wasn’t unusual when she was in a new town on an assignment. But the weight of her solitude pressed on her like a heavy cloak. Having Taylor visit gave her someone to talk and eat with. Maybe she didn’t want to sink into a relationship that would end in September, but she still enjoyed his presence in her days. Plus, there was the attraction. He was a gorgeously handsome man. She couldn’t ignore the attraction she felt for him on a physical level. All told, the emotions of desire, regret, friendship, need, and want swirling in her brain, made her feel completely off balance.
The next night Taylor came back to play with the dogs. They played for close to an hour. When they were worn out, he stopped up on the deck.
“What are you doing tonight?” He gave her a lopsided smirk, the left side of his lip curling up. “Writing?”
Anger flared in her mid-section. Was he making fun of her or just tiptoeing around the subject? Either way, she wasn’t taking the bait. “The Patriots have a charity exhibition pre-season game with the Broncos.”
His eyes widened and brightened. “I forgot about the game,” he said, getting excited. “You a Broncos fan?”
She looked at him incredulously, then a smile broke across his gorgeous face.
“Are you kidding?”
“Patriots all the way, young man. Broncos, my butt.”
“Broncos will kick Patsy ass.”
“Bull crap. Mac Jones recuperated from last season’s knee injury. If he hadn’t been sacked so hard, twenty gazillion times during the game, the Pats would have won the Super Bowl.”
“No freaking way. The Packers went for the weakness. Sacking the quarterback is legal.” Taylor was really into football. Roberta vaguely remembered reading he had played football in high school while trying to continue acting in the television series. It hadn’t worked out, and he’d been forced to quit the team.
“Maybe, but I think it’s poor sportsmanship,” she exaggerated to keep him going. “Stay and watch the game here? Or do you have a super-sized, flat-screen at your house?”
“Let me go home, take care of a few things. I’ll be back for the game.” Taylor trotted off before Roberta could stop him, his expensive Nikes kicking up behind him.
“Game starts in ten minutes!” she called to him.
A few hours, a six-pack and a bag of microwave popcorn later, the Pats beat the Broncos by a field goal. It had been a terrific evening, bantering back and forth with another breathing human in the room instead of yelling at the television alone as she usually did.
At the start of the game, they were formal and proper in their chosen seats—Roberta in the rocking chair, Taylor sitting on the couch. They'd sprawled out by the end of the game; Taylor lying prone on the couch, propped up with throw pillows. Roberta, lying on the floor, propped up on her elbows until the last five minutes of the game. The Patriots quarterback made a series of throws down the field, culminating in a field goal with four seconds left on the clock. The rookie kicker made the field goal giving the Pats the lead. Roberta came up into a lotus position. Sitting up, Taylor cheered the Broncos for a quick return pass, but a mid-field punt attempt veered far left, giving the Patriots the game. Roberta jumped to her feet and circled the room, arms waving, feet kicking. Her victory dance stopped short with a throw pillow to the side of her head.
“Ouch! Did you have to do that? Sore loser?” she cried out, feigning an injury with both hands holding her head, her face crinkled in alleged pain.
“Sore loser? No way! You’re lucky the clock ran out. Otherwise, we’d have beat the pads and pants off them.” Taylor stood, reaching out and putting his arms around Roberta. His eyebrows bunched together as his forehead furrowed. “Did I hurt you?”
Roberta stood, face brightening, flashed him a smile. “No, I’m joking.”
Silence descended between them as Taylor held her tight. With a groan, he let her go but stayed beside her.
Roberta feigned a yawn, not knowing what else to do and wanting to break the thick air between them.
“Well, guess I’ll call it a night,” Taylor said before giving Roberta a hip bump.
Butterflies took off in a flurry in Roberta’s stomach. She stepped away, head down.
Wordlessly, he disappeared through the kitchen and out the door. Roberta followed behind him, out on the deck to watch him go as he crossed the lawn. He paused to wave goodnight on his doorstep before disappearing inside. Roberta smiled, knowing they were back on friendly terms again. Having someone around to talk with, eat with, and hang out with was far more pleasant than talking to the dogs.
Rain pelted down the next day when Sara stopped by on an errand. “So, how’s it going with Mr. Chunk o’Hunk?” She plopped down in the nearest kitchen chair. She had come to deliver a new leash to replace the one Goober had chewed in half earlier in the day.
Standing at the kitchen counter, Roberta paused while rummaging through her purse for her wallet, her eyes staring off in the distance a moment before returning to Sara. “He’s been friendlier. Last night we watched a football game together. He did the weirdest thing before he left.”
Sara perked up, back straight and eyes wide. “What! What did he do?”
Roberta placed her wallet on the countertop. “Stand up,” she instructed. When Sara stood, Roberta walked over and gave the same quick hip bump Taylor had given her the previous night.
Sara’s eyes widened even more, and a smile exploded on her face. “Really? He did that to you? Oh my God! Do you know what it means?”