The Total Package Page 11

  “I need to talk to you. Now,” Tyson ordered with his gaze fixed solely on her, unconcerned with who was around and what they might hear.

  “I’m working here, Palmer,” she began brusquely, taking a quick look around. Several ­people had stopped what they were doing to observe, alerted by the tone of his voice. “And you should be suiting up.”

  “You sure you want to do this in front of other ­people?” He brought his voice down to a whisper, but there was still an unmistakable undercurrent. He looked perfectly capable of causing a scene. She gave him a curt nod and left the room with him following closely behind, much to the interest of everyone watching. They found an empty room, and as he closed the door behind them, she rounded on him, clearly miffed.

  “You made your point the other day, okay? I’m playing nice,” Dani told him peevishly.

  “I just have a few questions,” he replied, angrier than he intended, but it had been building all week. And when it came to her, he often found himself displaying more emotion than he normally would. “Starting with when exactly did Dani Carr kill Ella Bella?”

  The sentence sucked up all the air in the room. She hated the way both the names rolled off his tongue. It made her momentarily forget all the potential ramifications of his discovery.

  “Dani Carr didn’t kill her, Tyson Palmer did,” she spat, on the verge of blurting out more than she wanted. “So now you know. It took you long enough.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I’ve had sneezes that lasted longer,” she replied. “And I didn’t see the need to bring up old history.”

  She wanted to hurt him, but she also needed to send the message that his attention was unwelcome. She needed him to leave her alone. Because she was powerless when it came to him, she knew that now. After their last altercation, she had spent the night in her hotel room crying it out, alternately cursing him and then herself. She had created this quagmire, and every solution she tried to come up with only pulled her deeper. She couldn’t let him get close to her on any level.

  Nothing good could come from them becoming friends or, worse yet, lovers. Whenever she looked at Tyson, she saw the grown-­up version of the child they shared, which brought nothing but guilt. Guilt over how there might come a day when Brendon felt shortchanged by not having a father. Guilt that the more she interacted with Tyson, the more he showed that he had put his past behind him and deserved to know the truth. Every missed opportunity to confess was another stab at her conscience.

  “I deserve that,” Tyson said without a single ounce of hostility. “I wish I could take that night back.”

  Her righ­teous anger drained away. Now that he had made a full apology, she could no longer pretend he was still a lowlife lothario. But the closer she allowed him to get, the harder it was to deny that she still felt all the longing for him that had tormented her since the first time she met him.

  “I’ll bet you’ve had a lot of those nights.” Being unkind wasn’t in her nature, but it was vital now that he back off.

  “You’re right.” This time he chuckled, succeeding in making her feel awful. “There are a lot of days and nights I would take back if I could. But that’s one I really wish I could do over, for a whole bunch of reasons. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a jerk, you wouldn’t have spent all this time thinking the worst of me and maybe we’d be in a different place right now.”

  He was sincere and contrite, and it was getting harder to stand her ground.

  “But mostly, I wish I could do it over so that when you looked back on it, it made you feel as special as you are,” Tyson added.

  Dani’s mouth fell open. He had put it more eloquently in reality than it sounded in her dreams, where she had chosen the words herself. No matter what else he may or may not have remembered about that night, he remembered that he was her first. She began to blush, heat creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

  That made him smile all the more, because she looked so adorable when she did it, and when she tried to fight it.

  “It wasn’t that big a deal, Tyson,” she mumbled, trying to get the conversation over with. “From what I hear it’s not special for anyone.”

  “Still, it’s the kind of behavior that warrants an apology and I’d really like to say I’m sorry, Dani. If it makes you feel any better, over the last ­couple years I’ve had to issue a lot of apologies. They told me in rehab it would make me feel better, and it usually does.”

  He didn’t tell her that in this particular case, in many ways, it made him feel worse. He had gotten used to grappling with true regret. This went so much deeper. The more she tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a defining moment, the more clearly it translated to just how much it was.

  She started over, trying to keep it simple. “I accept your apology, Tyson.”

  “And don’t worry about me going back to my old ways. Trying to be the life of the party all the time was tedious. Plus I like being able to look at myself in the mirror.” He gave her a little nod and a wink.

  I would certainly drink to that, she thought. She had always liked looking at him too. But why did he feel the need to explain his ways? Seconds ticked by and Dani wondered if he was waiting for an apology from her. Just how much of their night together did he truly remember? Was he taking all the responsibility because he was being chivalrous or because he really had no recollection of her throwing herself at him?

  “It’s nice to see you back on the field,” Dani finally said, keeping it as noncommittal as possible.

  Tyson took a deep breath. “How do you feel about new beginnings?”

  “Like I get one every day,” she teased, even though she knew encouraging him was the wrong thing to do.

  “Can I get in on that?” he bantered back. “Starting with dinner after today’s game?”

  Dani sadly shook her head. She had to stop this now. There were only so many scenarios dinner with him could lead to, and all of them were treacherous. “That’s probably not a good idea. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  He nodded and blinked. When his eyes settled back on her, the brightness that was present just a minute ago was significantly dimmed. “Sure, of course. That’s good policy. Thanks for hearing me out and letting me make my amends. I should probably go get ready for the game.”

  He turned on his heel and left. And for his own self-­preservation, he filed her under “people, places, and things.”

  CHAPTER 12

  THE HOLIDAYS WERE rough on Dani. Not even the exhilaration of the team having yet to be handed a loss could put a dent in her doldrums. The Mavericks played the Thanksgiving game against Dallas, so there would be no going home to Danza’s feast, and she missed Brendon’s excitement at kicking off the Christmas season. On the day after Thanksgiving, as they had for decades, the Carrinos transformed the house into a holiday wonderland.

  “I don’t work nine to five,” Danza always said, scoffing at Black Friday sales. “I can shop anytime.”

  Back home in Ardmore, they were dedicating the entire weekend to putting up the tree and the village and the wreaths. There were craft projects from when Dani and her brothers were little, carefully preserved. Brendon would help and maybe add his own masterpiece to the craft mix. There would be Santas and snowmen and reindeer galore.

  By the time Dani got home, she would pretty much have to turn around and head back. It just wasn’t going to be worth it. So she stayed in Austin, and rather than sitting around her hotel room moping, when the request came to film a segment on Saturday with Marcus, she jumped at the chance to keep occupied.

  Dani met Marcus in the hotel lobby, right on time, and offered to drive. Cameraman Stan met them in the parking lot and led the way in his company van to the location, which according to Google Maps was an empty lot close to the airport off Capital of Texas Highway.

  Working with Marcus, even with i
ts ups and downs, had been better than Dani expected. Upon getting what he wanted, his own correspondent, he began to give everyone what they wanted, his time. At first their interviews were stilted and awkward, and it was barely enough to create a news snippet. Nobody trusted either of them to go live. But as the weeks wore on, he and Dani began to develop their own rapport. Because they respected each other’s space, it was easy for them to develop a comfortable exchange. They both had a dry, quick wit and played the little nuances of the game off each other nicely. It wasn’t long before everyone was looking forward to the postgame to see what they would say to each other. All the national outlets picked up their feed to broadcast. Soon after that, jealous minds started whispering that the two of them were canoodling on their off days. It was a conclusion that was easy to draw. Marcus was rarely seen in public, and Dani kept to herself too, spending most of her off time in her hotel room, either Skyping with her family or watching TV and wishing she was home. Room ser­vice had most of her orders committed to memory. She had no problem ignoring the misconception, and she could tell Marcus appreciated her silence. It spared her having to confess that the rumors had an added bonus. If Tyson believed Dani and Marcus were hooking up, it was sure to keep him at bay. But by the look on his face whenever she encountered him in passing, she wasn’t so sure it did. She continued to watch him from afar, knowing it was the right thing and hating every minute of it.

  But soon the pair’s rumored relationship was quickly twisted until it was back to the same old story about Marcus being gay, only now Dani was his beard. On the few occasions she dared speak of it, Dani got the distinct impression Marcus thought that was hilarious.

  The truth was she didn’t know any more about Marcus by midseason than she did when she was hired to cover him. She could count on him to be where he said he would be at the exact time he said he would be there. He made no demands on her time other than an occasional stall tactic if someone pushed to get too close to him. But beyond that, he didn’t volunteer a shred of information about anything else.

  There was one other thing she couldn’t help noticing. In most of their postgame interviews, Marcus would slip in a mention of his quarterback, practically forcing Dani to say something nice about Tyson. She always did, smiling, and making it sound like they were a pair of football superheroes, often with Clinton Barrow standing no more than a few yards away.

  But now being alone in a car with Marcus was nothing short of nerve-­wracking. They drove the first twenty minutes in silence while he looked out his window and she pondered just how one makes small talk with a clam.

  “I can’t believe I said yes to this assignment without even knowing the details.” Dani tried opening the conversation with a half laugh.

  “At our boss’s request, I’m going to decorate a Christmas tree,” Marcus said in response. “You’re going to ask me some random questions about it, maybe talk a little football.”

  Dani couldn’t tell if he was serious. “Decorate a tree. You’re going to decorate a tree?”

  “Okay, I’m going to spend a minute looking like I’m decorating a tree,” Marcus clarified, before pointing out his window at the side of the road. “Like that.”

  Dani followed the direction of Marcus’s finger. The sight was as peculiar as it was heartwarming. ­People had begun to decorate random cedar trees that dotted the countryside and ran along the miles of highway. Some were elaborate, others clearly decorated by children with ornaments made of construction paper and sequins that hung no higher than the middle of the tree. There were sections where there were multiple trees in a row and spots where single, lonely-­looking dressed-­up cedars stood. Fully immersed in her own conundrums, she doubted she would’ve noticed them if he hadn’t pointed them out.

  “Who decorates all these trees?” Dani wondered out loud after passing a dozen of them.

  “Texans full of the Christmas spirit, I imagine,” Marcus said.

  “And where do you factor in with all this holiday spiriting? You don’t strike me as the Christmassy type.”

  Dani wished she could take the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth. No matter how many secrets Marcus kept, the common knowledge of his family history was enough to conclude his holidays probably weren’t very festive. Just when he had said more than three words to her in a more social setting, the first thing she did was slight him.

  “We weren’t the religious type, that’s for sure.” If he sensed her discomfort, he didn’t let on. But he didn’t answer her question either, asking instead, “What about you?”

  “I hail from a close, progressive Italian Catholic family.”

  “What does that even mean?” Marcus queried, and Dani figured he knew even less about faith than he did family.

  “It basically means that while we had crosses in every room, my parents refrained from hanging the ones of Jesus sadly looking down at us to remind us of all his suffering. They’re just big believers in the Resurrection and all the redemption that came with it.”

  There were several long beats of silence before Marcus said, “That’s pretty profound, considering how hard you are on my man Tyson.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dani mentally cursed his straying to her least favorite topic.

  “At first I thought it was funny the way you two act around each other,” Marcus continued, “and I thought it would create an edgy dynamic that would yield great results on the field. But now I think there’s something much more personal going on.”

  “There’s nothing personal about it,” Dani denied, a little too vehemently. “But you’re right, I don’t like him. Five years ago he was screwing everything in sight and could’ve opened his own pharmacy. Now he’s suddenly smooth and suave and all zenned out. I don’t think so.”

  “There are a lot of questionable characters in this game. He’s not the first player who ever fell down. It strikes me as odd because you’re usually so nonjudgmental. You never pass up the opportunity to rag on him when the camera’s off. He really rubs you the wrong way. Like there’s a history there and you’re trying to convince yourself of something. I was curious as to what that might be.”

  Curious? No, Marcus wasn’t the curious type. Perceptive was a different story. She thought she had been careful to remain cool when it came to Tyson, especially around Marcus. She still hadn’t gotten over the way Marcus seemingly peered into her soul that first day on the field. Apparently she came up short and her little tirade was only more ammunition for him.

  Dani was spared having to directly answer him because Stan turned off the highway and down a small hill. She followed the van down to a strip mall at the bottom of the ravine. They drove past the parking lot, which was already full, and found a ­couple of spots on the side of the road past it. Stan grabbed his camera, and with his assistant, who carried Dani’s microphone and the spare battery pack, the four of them followed a small group of ­people back toward the strip mall, which housed about a dozen small storefronts.

  To Dani’s surprise, nobody noticed her or Marcus. All eyes were on the cluster of trees at the far end of the parking lot, closest to the highway. As they neared, Dani could make out ­people decorating some of the trees, but the majority were gathered around a box truck that opened from the side. Inside the truck were neatly organized boxes of everything from plastic ball ornaments to solar-­powered lights, to garland and tinsel. Christmas music floated from a portable sound system set up somewhere on the property.

  At the center of the group near the truck, standing head and shoulders above the crowd of mostly small children and teenagers, was Tyson Palmer. Dani felt all her breath leave her in a rush.

  Oh, hell no.

  Which was really comical, considering that the expression on Tyson’s face when he saw them approach screamed the same thing. He finished what he was saying, which Dani was still too far away to catch, and then wended his way through the
circle to greet them.

  “Happy holidays. Guess my secret’s out.” He smiled as he broke away from the crowd and joined them. But it was a stiff, tight smile reminiscent of when he realized the clucking wasn’t going to go away.

  None of it stopped him from looking positively scrumptious.

  “I got a call from the boss’s office,” Marcus explained without acknowledging any discomfort on Tyson’s end. “He thought this was the kind of thing that makes the Mavs look good.”

  “And if Marcus is willing to come out of hiding, it must be a pretty big deal,” Dani quipped in the effort to ease the tension. “Do you mind if we take a few minutes to get some footage?”

  “Sure, but is it okay if we make it quick? I’ve got kids to play with and Christmas trees to rock around,” Tyson replied easily, turning the baseball cap he was wearing so that the bill was facing backward.

  Dani and Stan had a quick conversation about where they should set up the shot. She placed Tyson and Marcus on opposite sides of the chosen tree and pulled a ­couple of kids out of the crowd who were willing to join them. She took only a few seconds of live action footage of them hanging a few ornaments on the tree. Stan suggested they ask Tyson a few questions, but Dani decided against it. The whole thing felt wrong, like they had intruded on something that was genuine and personal. As soon as Dani told Tyson she was done, he promptly excused himself and walked back over to a tree that was being decorated by what looked like three young kids and their grandfather. She asked Marcus and the kids to remain by their tree, asked a few questions of a general nature, and wrapped the whole thing up as quickly as she could. She dismissed Stan and his assistant, telling them they would add sound bites later back at the studio.

  “I’m going to hang around awhile,” Dani told Marcus after Stan began hoofing back. “I need to at least find out what the real deal with this is. Clearly there’s a story behind it.”

  “That’s cool. I’m going to go ahead and hitch a ride back with the guys and the van. See you later,” Marcus said, not waiting for her response. He took off out of the parking lot in pursuit of Stan and his assistant, leaving her alone.