By unspoken agreement, they didn’t go into Salvation together. When Jane had shopping to do, she went alone. Sometimes she ran into Kevin, and the two of them lunched together at the Petticoat Junction Cafe, where she ignored the hostile stares of the locals. Luckily, she could still conceal her pregnancy with loose-fitting dresses.
She and Cal continued to fight when he got high-handed, but it was generally a good kind of fighting, and he never displayed any of the cold hatred that had been so much a part of him in those early weeks. Instead, he roared away to his heart’s content, and she refused to ruin his pleasure by not fighting back. The truth was, she enjoyed their battles as much as he.
She heard the shower cut off. Since there was no sense exposing herself to additional temptation, she gave him a few minutes to dry off and wrap a towel around himself before she rapped softly on the partially open bathroom door, then let herself in.
He stood at the sink with the black bath towel looped so low on his hips she was surprised it didn’t drop off. As he spread shaving cream across his jaw, he took in her cherry red Snoopy nightshirt.
“When are you gonna show a little mercy, Professor, and stop enticin’ me with those sexy negligees?”
“Tomorrow night I’m wearing Winnie-the-Pooh.”
“Be still my heart.”
She smiled, lowered the lid on the toilet, and took a seat. For a while she contented herself with watching him shave, but then she returned to the subject of yesterday’s argument.
“Cal, explain to me once more why you won’t spend a little time with Kevin?”
“Are we back to this again?”
“I still don’t understand why you won’t coach him. He really respects you.”
“He hates my guts.”
“That’s only because he wants to move up in the world. He’s young and talented, and you’re standing in his way.”
His muscles tensed. He didn’t like the fact that she spent time with Kevin, but since she’d made it clear that she regarded him as a friend, and since Cal had apparently told Kevin he’d break both his arms if he so much as touched her, they’d settled into an uneasy truce.
He tilted his head and shaved under his chin. “He’s not as talented as he thinks. He’s got a great arm—no doubt about that. He’s quick and aggressive, but he has a lot to learn about reading defenses.”
“Why don’t you teach him?”
“It’s like I said, I don’t see the logic in training my competition, and I also happen to be the last person in the world he’d take advice from.”
“That’s not true. Why do you think he’s still hanging around Salvation?”
“Because he’s sleeping with Sally Terryman.”
Jane had seen the curvaceous Sally in town several times, and she decided Cal had a point, but since it wasn’t the one she wanted to make, she ignored it. “He’d be a lot better player if you worked with him, and you’d be leaving something important behind when you retire.”
“Which won’t be for a long time.” He ducked his head and rinsed off the shaving cream.
She knew she was treading on dangerous ground and stepped carefully. “You’re thirty-six, Cal. It can’t be much longer.”
“Which just goes to show what you know.” He grabbed a hand towel and dried his face. “I’m at the top of my game. There’s no reason for me to retire.”
“Maybe not right away, but certainly in the foreseeable future.”
“I’ve got a lot of good years left.”
She thought of the shoulder he rubbed when he thought no one was looking, the whirlpool he’d had installed in the bathroom, and knew he was fooling himself.
“What are you going to do when you retire? Do you have some business ventures lined up? Are you going into coaching?”
His back muscles tensed ever so slightly. “Why don’t you just stick to those top quarks, Professor, and leave my future to me?” He headed into his bedroom, whipping off his towel as he walked over to his bureau and pulled out a pair of briefs. “You remember, don’t you, that I’m taking off for Texas later this afternoon.”
He’d changed the subject. “Some kind of golf tournament, I think you said.”
“The Bobby Tom Denton Invitational.”
“He’s a friend of yours?” She got up from the toilet and leaned against the doorframe that led into his bedroom.
“Honey, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Bobby Tom Denton. He’s only the most famous wide-out to ever play football.”
“Wide-out?”
“Wide receiver. They’re the ones quarterbacks throw to. I want to tell you, the day he blew out his knee and had to retire was one of the worst days in the history of pro ball.”