That stung.
"That's not what I meant, Jensen. And that's not fair."
I thought he'd move in and loom over me, but he kept his distance.
"You want to talk about unfair? I've never let myself get close to a woman like you. A woman of substance, of principles and responsibility and loyalty. You scare the hell out of me, Rowan. You're smart and funny and thoughtful and beautiful and I knew after that first night we had dinner that it'd be hard just being friends with you. But if friendship was all I could have of you? I was willing to take it because I liked being around you. I liked being around your son. I really liked that you seemed happy to hang out with me. The real me. Not the football player or the rich guy everyone else sees. I hoped if I was patient that you could see that our interest in one another and the attraction we both feel could lead to more than friendship."
I truly didn't know what to say.
"But the ‘principles' part of who you are that I admired came back to bite me in the ass. I get that you are a list maker and a rule follower. What I don't get? That you're willing to blindly follow someone else's rule even if it causes you to lose out on something that could have a positive impact on your life.
"I'd never do anything to jeopardize your livelihood. But I don't think your extreme overreaction today was about how our friendship will affect your career. You're just as scared about what's been building between us as I am. The difference is? I want to embrace it, not run from it."
"I'm not running from it," I said hotly.
"Yeah, sweetheart, you are. You're latching onto any excuse to keep things as they are."
"It's not an excuse, Jensen."
"So if the no-fraternization rule didn't apply? Things would be different? You would've talked to me today instead of shutting me out? You would've let me kiss you last week instead of shutting me down?"
I said, "Yes," without hesitation.
"Two words: injured reserve. You know what that means?"
"I know what injured reserve means," I said crossly.
"Do you know that technically when I'm on injured reserve . . . I'm not officially on the roster? If I'm not officially on the roster, then the rule isn't in effect for us. Think about that."
My jaw might've hit the concrete.
Jensen walked away without another word.
Fourteen
JENSEN
I believed I'd prepared for every contingency for the official opening of Camp Step-Up.
But I hadn't expected projectile vomiting from the oldest kid in attendance.
Nor had I anticipated getting challenged to a "touchdown celebration dance-off" by a seven-year-old girl.
Neither did I understand why a kid brought a snake in a bucket for show-and-tell, because we didn't have show-and-tell. Also, how had the kid's parents not noticed their son carrying a bucket with a snake into the school?
Luckily Astrid was a snake charmer or possibly she spoke Parseltongue because she dealt with the snake and with the kid. And probably his parents.
The next issue involved my cousin Jaxson. He was supposed to drop off his daughter, Mimi, except as soon as Jax realized Lucy's mother was teaching arts and crafts, my in-your-face hockey-playing cousin demanded that I find a volunteer position for him. Right. The guy beat the shit out of people with a stick for a living-not a lot of need for that skill in the real world, to say nothing of at a day camp for kids under age ten.
Jax was determined to "do his part as a Lund." Rather than upsetting Mimi-who was thrilled her father wanted to be around longer than ten minutes-I planned to put him off until registration ended. I flat-out refused Jax's demand to be assigned to Lucy as her classroom aide. I happened to like Lucy and I was fond of my balls being attached to my body.
This wasn't a decision I could delegate to Astrid. I gave Jax one option: He could be the janitor. He didn't balk. He said yes and "welcomed" the chance to prove he'd changed.
But I didn't have time to dwell on that because I had another unexpected crazy Lund family member to deal with-Brady. He demanded to know why the camp wasn't offering academic tutoring.
There was some fun. Conjugating verbs and solving story problems. Not.
I reminded Brady that Camp Step-Up focused on the arts. It wasn't petty that if I, a pro athlete, wasn't allowed to teach these kids how to catch a ball, then similarly Mr. CEO Finance Whiz couldn't try to make math fun.
Okay, maybe it was a little petty.
Speaking of petty . . . Rowan and Calder were the last to arrive for registration. I hadn't seen either of them for a week.