Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 4 TESSA

I stare down at the text.

Unknown Number: Hey! I heard you’re back in Fallon Ridge!

I have no idea who it is texting me, but apparently word travels quickly. I decide not to reply even though it has to be someone I know based on the text.

It’s probably too cold to go for a walk outside, but my legs are getting jittery.

He’s next door.

I want to see him again.

Seeing him standing in his window unlocked a piece of me that had been stored away since I left. It brought everything back. The good times. The hard times. The times in between.

It was like the weight I’ve carried was lifted.

It was like taking a breath of fresh air after breathing in pollution for seven years.

I need more.

And when he said that line about helping motivate me to unpack with all the old flirtation back in his voice, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I panicked.

He’s married.

It’s a little after seven o’clock, and my mom just finished the dinner dishes and settled into an episode of her favorite show, Wheel of Fortune , so I decide to bundle up and head out despite the chill in the air.

The front door is just off the family room, and I head over to it while she pauses the television to ask, “Where are you going?”

“Just heading out for a quick walk. I can stop at the store if you need anything.”

“It’s freezing out, Tessa!” she warns. “Take the car and walk around the store if you have to walk.”

I chuckle. “It’s no worse than the Windy City, Mom. I’ll be fine. Just a little exercise to get the blood flowing, you know?” I pull my winter gloves out of my pockets and wrap my scarf around my neck to prove I’ll be fine.

“If you insist on walking to the store, we’re low on eggs if you want to grab a dozen,” she finally concedes, but the look of warning tells me she’s not convinced this is a good idea.

I didn’t come here for her to treat me like a little girl. If I was still in Chicago and I wanted to go for a walk, there was nobody I had to answer to. I would just go.

Being back home could prove to impede on some of the independence I’ve become accustomed to since I left this place.

When I was here before, I had very little in the way of independence, but I’ve really come into my own over the last few years. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s probably yet another reason I’ve stayed away.

“Happy to. Text me if you think of anything else.”

“Be careful, Tessi-cat,” she says, and I wave her off.

“I’ll be fine. See you soon.” I blow her a kiss and head out the door. She wasn’t wrong. It’s blustery cold on this February night, probably around fifteen degrees, and the streets are dark save for the streetlights every sixth house. I walk down the block and take a right, and two blocks later I’m back in downtown Fallon Ridge.

It’s all so familiar with the lights strung on trees in the median down the boulevard, the clock tower the centerpiece above the row of shops on my right. The market is the first building I come to across the main drag, so I cross the street and head inside.

The second I walk in, I hear my name in a deep, Irish brogue. “Tessa Taylor!”

I turn toward the jovial voice, and I smile widely. “Mr. Butcher,” I say to Bernard Sullivan, the town butcher, and he grabs me into a hug. He used to sneak me saltwater taffy from the bulk section when my mom dragged me to the store with her. He referred to himself as Mr. Butcher, and he’s like the town grandfather. His wife, Margaret, a cashier at the same market, is the town grandmother.

“You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you,” he says, and he turns serious a moment. “Sorry to hear about your father. I would’ve come to the funeral but they had me working that day.” He shakes his head. “Terribly sorry I missed it.”

“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head, and he hands me a wrapped piece of taffy. I giggle as I scold him. “You’ll get in trouble, Mr. Butcher.” I take the candy anyway and pop it into my mouth.

“It’d be worth it just to get that smile out of you,” he says with a wink. “Can I get you anything from the counter?” he asks, nodding toward the meat selection in the case. “I have strips of thick cut maple bacon on sale for four ninety-nine a pound.”

Mm, bacon. My mouth waters just thinking about it. “Sure. I’ll take a pound.”

“I’ll take a pound, too, while you’re back there,” a familiar voice beside me says, and a tingle runs through my entire body from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. He glances at me and smiles, and suddenly I’m sweating in my winter gear. “Ah, hell. Make it two pounds.”

“You aren’t going to eat two pounds of bacon,” I challenge, and he laughs as he lightly elbows me in the arm.

“Wanna bet?”

Hm, an NFL player versus a pregnant woman. I wonder who could put down more bacon.

I twist my lips and narrow my eyes at him. “You eat that much bacon?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I pretty much eat chicken, veggies, and rice for every meal. But it’s the off-season, and I want some of Mr. Butcher’s famous maple bacon.”

I want to enjoy said bacon in Tristan’s bed beside him, but I choose not to follow up our banter with that particular nugget.

“What about you, Taylor?” he asks playfully. “Last I recall, you wouldn’t go near pork after anatomy class senior year.”

I giggle. We’d dissected fetal pigs, and I went on a pork strike immediately afterward.

And then I went on to become a nurse. We dissected some things in that program, too, but I didn’t give up human contact. After everything I’ve seen…well, when you crave bacon, you crave bacon, dissections be damned.

“Things change,” I say lightly, but simmering beneath the surface of my words is the fact that I have changed, and he wasn’t around to experience those changes.

It hurts my heart all over again.

Tristan’s eyes fall to my right hand, where he spots the promise ring he gave me.

My cheeks flush and my chest tightens. “I never take it off,” I whisper.

I spot a touch of heat in his eyes before Bernard interrupts the moment between us. “Here’s your bacon, Tessa.”

He hands me a package over the counter, which I set in my cart, and I could turn to leave, but instead I stand beside Tristan as we wait for his two pounds. “What are you kids both doing home at the same time?” he asks a little suggestively.

“I came to spend some time with my mom,” I lie, the same lie I’m telling everyone.

Tristan glances at me. “And coincidentally, I came for an off-season visit.”

“Hell of a season you had, son,” Mr. Butcher says. “You should still be back home preparing for your appearance at the Super Bowl. Damn shame you won’t be playing in it.”

Tristan nods politely, and I can’t help but wonder about his real feelings on the fact that he’s here in Fallon Ridge rather than in Vegas preparing for the Super Bowl. “We’ll get ‘em next season.”

“Hope so. You deserve it. Hear anything on your extension?” Mr. Butcher asks.

Tristan shakes his head. “I expect they’ll drag it out until the end of April, but more than likely they’ll take my fifth year.”

“They’d be stupid not to with all the success you’ve brought them.” Mr. Butcher hands over the bacon, which Tristan sets in my cart. “Can I get you anything else?”

We both shake our heads.

“Hope I’ll be seeing you both around a bit,” he says, and he offers a smile as we both thank him.

I turn to head toward the eggs, and Tristan walks alongside me while I push the cart. “You need eggs, too?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. I needed to get out of the house a while. I’m not used to having someone breathing down my neck every second asking where I’m going or what I’m doing, and I was getting jittery just sitting around watching game shows.”

I bark out a loud laugh, and his brows crinkle together.

“What?” he asks.

“You literally just described the exact reason I’m here at the store.”

He laughs. “I figured this would be an off time so I wouldn’t run into three-quarters of the town. I’m tired of everybody asking me what I’m doing here, and I’ve only been home…” he glances at his watch. “Jesus, I’ve only been home five hours.”

“Same,” I confirm, flipping open an egg carton to check for any cracked ones. “And Wheel of Fortune is on, so I figured anyone over the age of fifty-five would be occupied by Pat and Vanna for the next half hour.”

He chuckles. “Plus Jeopardy is on next, so we should have an entire hour.”

I raise both brows and nod. “With any luck, anyway.”

“Tristan Higgins?” a female voice asks, and I suck in a breath. I recognize the voice right away—and while it was a benefit to recognize Mr. Butcher right away, this voice is one of the drawbacks of small-town living.

I turn around, and Tiffany Gable glances at me. “Oh my God! And Tessa Taylor?”

“Hey, Tiff,” I say. She attended my father’s funeral. She said I’m sorry when she got to me in the line.

But that was it.

We were never close.

She only attended so she could see if Tristan would be there.

She always had a thing for Tristan, and by the way she’s looking at him now, that thing has only gotten stronger with time—or maybe with his success. The unreachable is suddenly within reach.

“What are you two doing here?” she asks as she reaches out an arm to grasp Tristan’s bicep.

Tristan and I glance at each other, and when our eyes meet, we both burst out laughing.

“Shopping,” Tristan says, his eyes on me. He tosses an arm around my shoulders, forcing her to drop her hand, and while I know he’s doing it for her benefit—as a way to get them talking, so to speak—I still relish the warmth that washes over me at his proximity.

I’m close enough to smell him, and he smells pretty much the same as he always did. His scent is somehow fresh and sexy all at the same time, and those old familiar butterflies flap down a little lower than my stomach.

It truly feels like old times as a sense of nostalgia washes over me. The same giddiness I always felt beside him races down my spine, and it’s like I’m sixteen again, like all my cares suddenly drifted away because Tristan’s arm is around me.

Like my world has shifted back to the place it always should have been before everything I held precious was ripped from my arms.

I slide an arm around his waist. “We needed some eggs,” I say, continuing the joke since we both know she means to ask what we’re doing in Fallon Ridge, not here at the store, and we both laugh.

Tiffany’s brows draw together. “Are you two…” Her question trails off as she points between the two of us, but her meaning is clear.

I freeze for a second. We’re not.

We ran into each other five hours ago, talked for what felt like ten seconds, and ran into each other here at the store.

That’s what we are.

We’ve only just started to reconnect, and I have things I’m not ready to share with him yet—secrets that will heartily affect the answer to her question. He may have some of his own, too, plus, you know, that whole wife thing he has going on.

I don’t say any of that to Tiffany. Instead, my eyes edge over to Tristan, and his eyes are on me. When our gazes lock at this close proximity, I’m transported to another time.

“We’re catching up,” he finally says, his gaze burning into mine in a way that tells me that while that’s what we’re doing on the surface, we both have feelings simmering just beneath it that are much, much stronger than simply catching up .

“How lovely,” Tiffany says, her tone bored as if she doesn’t really think it’s lovely at all. “I’d love to catch up with you, too, Tristan.” Her tone is suggestive, and I note the fact that she doesn’t mention wanting to catch up with me .

“Maybe another time,” he says. “We do have eggs to get, after all.”

I giggle even though I know it won’t be enough to get rid of her forever. He drops his arm from around me and moves toward the eggs.

“Good to see you,” he says rather dismissively, and he picks up a dozen to check them for cracks.

“You too,” she murmurs, and she stands there a beat trying to find some way to prolong this conversation before she finally walks away.

“You think we’ll be the talk of the town by morning?” I ask lightly.

“Probably,” he admits. “Tiffany Gable always worked fast. But let ‘em talk. Some of them have little else to hold onto, but I’ll admit it’s a big reason why I’ve been hesitant to come back to this place.”

“Because of Tiffany?” I ask.

He shrugs. “All of it. She’ll tell Jen I had my arm around you, and Jen will tell Lauren, and Lauren will tell Nicole. Where does it end? And now in the digital age and considering my choice of career, it’ll be fair game for the media, and then suddenly paparazzi will descend on Fallon Ridge.”

We meander around the store, neither of us really needing anything else as we catch up. “But that’ll be good for local business, won’t it? They’ll need food while they’re here,” I point out.

He nods. “And a place to stay. I’m sure Mrs. Harrison will put them up at her B and B, and they’ll wake well-rested and ready to snap every move I make to try to find some interesting piece they can sell, all while I just want a little privacy in the off-season.”

“So you’re just doing our town a service.”

“Sure. And the fact that I had my arm around you will spark a media frenzy, and my wi—” he cuts himself off mid-word, as if he was about to mention his wife but thought better of it. “Anyway,” he mutters.

“Is it all bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “People are interested, which typically means more endorsements, which then leads to more money. But it’s me. It’s the life I’ve chosen. The people around me didn’t choose it, yet they’ll be involved anyway.”

It’s a good point I hadn’t thought of before.

He’s in the public eye now. He had to have known that he might run into people he knows just by coming to the store, but he did it anyway. He had to have known the potential consequences that could come from tossing his arm around me, but he did it anyway.

I’m pregnant, knocked up by a man who doesn’t want anything to do with my baby, and I can’t have anybody finding out who the father is since it could affect my former boss. But if Tristan and I are seen together, pictured together, someone somewhere will start to dig into who I am.

I want to reconnect with Tristan…but I also have parts of my life that I must keep hidden.

I just hope I don’t end up in a situation where I have to choose one or the other.