Under the Autumn Sky by Liz Talley

Author:Liz Talley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-08-19T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

ABRAM FELT ANTICIPATION build in his stomach as he pulled onto a street beside the stadium where the Bonnet Creek Owls were set to play the Ville Platte Bulldogs—and it had nothing to do with the game. The parking lot and side streets of the small community were filled to capacity with trucks and cars parked in front of small wooden houses encircling the well-lit stadium. Some ingenious kid had roped off his mostly dirt yard and sold parking for $5.00 a pop.

He pulled in. “Got room for one more?”

The boy wearing sagging jeans and a Bulldog T-shirt eyed his F250 pickup. “That’s a big truck.”

“I’ll give you a ten spot.”

“I guess you can park in the driveway. My momma ain’t going out in this mess no way.” He held out his palm and Abram greased it before easing onto the broken pavement behind an ancient Pinto.

After locking his truck and tipping the kid an extra five to make sure no one messed with it, he started toward the already rocking stadium. Tubas set a low bass beat as the drums rat-a-tatted in that familiar Friday night cacophony. Coaches’ whistles and the hum of the crowd accompanied the football rhapsody. Moths flew around the tall stadium lights, dancing in the night air as the scent of peanuts and popcorn reached his nose.

Nothing better than Friday night football. Except maybe Saturday night. Or Sunday afternoon.

And tonight he’d finally set eyes on the blonde who’d invaded all his free thoughts, which were not as many as one would think, since he mostly dwelled on rival defensive schemes and the offensive efficiency of the ULBR Panthers. But every night before he closed his eyes he thought of her.

Which was damned crazy.

But didn’t change the fact she haunted his thoughts and his dreams. Hell, he lived for those one-hour calls on Thursday night, nearly dancing around like a kid on Christmas Eve before he got to Waylon on his list of recruits. Pathetic.

“Wanna program?” a cheerleader asked, jabbing it his way as he approached the gate.

“Sure,” he said, digging out more money and doing his part to support the Dog Pound, the booster club for Ville Platte. Hayden Verdun was on the front cover, arching up for a ball in midair. He’d claim it as an expense item since he needed to have a list of numbers and a place to jot comments. He never carried a clipboard. Too telltale for locals who’d want to chew his ear off about their hometown stud. He rolled the program and forced it into his back jeans pocket as he shelled out another seven bucks for admission.

He deliberately avoided the home stands to his right and headed around the track toward the visitor section, which was his normal protocol since the hometown folks usually knew each other and stared at a guy sitting alone at a high school football game. He liked to blend in, and it didn’t hurt Lou sat on the visitors’ side.

Okay, it was the main reason.

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