Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) by Jami Davenport Read Free Book Online Page A

darlin’, cuz I ain’t from Cali-for-nee-a.”
    “You sure as heck aren’t from Texas. That’s the worst drawl I’ve ever heard.”
    “Would you believe I’m a rarity around these parts? I’m a native; a true-blue, born-and-bred Washingtonian.”
    “Dressed like that?”
    “Hey, I’m from Eastern Washington. We’re all cowboys or farmers over there.”
    “Like you’d know a horse’s ass from its head.”
    “That’ll be a buck for swearing.” He smirked at her and tugged on a lock of her fiery red hair. She jerked away from him, and he let the silky strands slip through his calloused fingers.
    Pissed, she yanked a bill from her tip jar and stuffed it in the swear jar. He chuckled, having more fun than he’d had in a long time.
    “So what’ll it be?”
    “That’s a loaded question.” He raised one eyebrow and slid his gaze up and down her body, lingering on those magnificent tits.
    “You have five seconds to name a beer, or I’ll pick one for you.” The lady was definitely not amused.
    Lazily, Tyler looked up. He got the point. He was picky about his beer. “What’s the best dark beer you have on tap?”
    “We have a local dark ale, brewed right here in the islands.”
    “Sounds good.” He watched as she poured the beer into a glass and savored the view of her nicely shaped ass. Turning, she scowled when she caught him eyeing her.
    “How’s the cat?” Lavender slid the beer across the bar to him.
    “Why? Has he been bitching to you again?”
    “Actually, I haven’t seen him at all.”
    “That’s because he’s taken my house by siege and relegated me to servant duties.”
    “You? A servant?” She laughed; a hearty, yet feminine laugh of true amusement. He liked it so much he wanted to make her laugh again.
    “Honest. The little shit is more demanding than my agent when he negotiated my last contract.” Before she could open her mouth, he dropped a buck in the jar.
    “You paid ahead.”
    “Call it a donation. So what time do you get off tonight?” He reached for her hand and caught it in his much bigger one. She tugged, and he gripped tighter, running his thumb across her palm. He liked the feel of her soft hand in his. She shuddered and sucked her plump lower lip between her teeth. Their eyes met. For a moment, he lost himself, forgot his problems, and just enjoyed the little jolt he got from being around her.
    Lavender yanked her hand away. Her momentary thaw iced over. “You’re no better than the rest of them, are you?”
    “Actually, I am better. The best, sweetheart. Give me chance.” He didn’t have a clue who the rest of them were, but decided to let that one go.
    “Not unless your IQ is equal to or better than your quarterback rating.”
    She’d stabbed him below the belt, but he didn’t believe in letting anyone see him bleed. “For that to happen I’d need to be above-genius level.”
    “Too bad, Einstein, the clock ran out, you just turned the ball over on downs.” She tossed him a sassy wink and turned away to wait on her other tables.
    Tyler stared after her. He made a mental note to toughen up around Purple Lady, while at the same time stepping up his campaign to get her naked.
    * * * * *
    What a jerk. Lavender wanted to throttle the arrogant jock.
    After she’d rejected him, Tyler wandered over to a lone table. He slumped in his chair, propped his long legs on another chair and glowered at the Canucks hockey game on the nearby television. The few people who attempted to approach him immediately backed off when he shot them a fuck-off glare.
    Yet, she kept stealing glances at him. He looked like the real deal with his worn cowboy boots, which actually looked like they’d been used in a barn or on a horse. His hat seemed equally broken in. Nothing about him said “money.” In fact, his clothes said just the opposite, if she didn’t know better. One thing he couldn’t hide was his latent sexuality and his drop-a-women-at-forty-paces blue eyes. Of