When I Need You (Need You #4)

She didn’t say anything; she just gaped at me in disbelief.

I found myself trying to sell her on it. I’ll admit a lot of it was me talking out of my ass because I hadn’t paid attention to the particulars when I’d been involved in other LCCO projects. I’d never started one at ground zero.

When I paused to take a drink, Rowan seized the chance to speak. “Okay, I’m throwing this out there and please don’t bite my head off. But you can’t take an arts camp—which I assume you know nothing about—and turn it into a sports camp, and expect the parents who had committed to the arts camp to be happy about the change because any camp is better than no camp.”

And I thought I’d been making progress with her. That she’d finally seen me beyond being a meathead football player with a one-track mind on sports. It was tempting to say, Screw it, and good luck; sorry you can’t see that I have a functioning brain outside my helmet and I’m only trying to help you.

I started to do just that: get up, toss off a terse “Whatever” and let her figure out a better way. But then I realized that was exactly what she expected I’d do—maybe even what she wanted me to do. Take offense, storm off and prove I have a football player’s temper by throwing a tantrum. Then she could keep her pride by not admitting that I could help her.

Screw that.

Raising my head, I met her defiant gaze with one of my own. “At what point during my explanation of how LCCO could possibly help fix this situation did I specifically say that I planned to turn the dance and art camp into a football camp?”

Rowan stared at me. Scowled at me. Scowled at her empty mug.

“You can’t answer that because I never indicated that in order for LCCO to become interested, I’d pitch it as a sports camp.”

“Isn’t that expected? Given who you are?”

I leaned forward. “I get off on defying people’s expectations, Rowan.”

“So you seriously expect me to believe that all you have to do is tell LCCO about the situation, and they’ll ride in like a bunch of white knights and save the summer camp?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because my last name is Lund.” I flashed my teeth at her. “Nepotism: It’s a good thing.”

“Cocky much?”

“Only when it’s warranted.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How can you be so stubborn?” I shot out of my chair and loomed over her before she got it in her head to flee. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m on to you. You want to say no. You want to tell me to take my nepotism and shove it on my way out the door.”

Another glare.

“So are you going to let your pride put Calder’s happiness as well as the other campgoers’ at risk because you don’t want to admit you need some help? Or because you don’t want to accept that help from me?”

“I hate this.”

Being this close to her I noticed the pulse beating in her throat. I noticed the way she’d arched up slightly toward me, instead of away from me. I noticed she’d parted her lips as if she wanted me to kiss her.

Or maybe . . . that’s how she looks when she’s pissed off, cornered and about to strike.

Either way? It was sexy as hell.

I denied my driving need to taste her, touch her, feel her body moving beneath mine. If I wanted her to see me as more than a player, I had to prove it to her.

“Stop crowding me,” she finally said.

“I will as soon as you answer the question.”

Rowan closed her eyes. “All right. The truth? I hate that you can swoop in like some superhero and save the day.” When she opened her eyes it shocked me to see them shimmering with tears. “While I hate it because I know it’s my stupid pride making me resistant, I am thankful that you can possibly save the day.”

I sat beside her. Without thinking, I curled my hand around the side of her face. Seeing this strong, feisty woman cry cut me deep, and I wanted to soothe her. “Rowan. What else is going on?”

She whispered, “I wanted to be the hero, okay? I know it sounds petty and ungrateful, but I wanted to be the one to find a way.”

“You are the hero in Calder’s life every single day. Never forget that.” I brushed away a tear and brought her closer to me. “I’m not doing this because I have a white-knight complex. I just want to help. Let me.” I paused. “That said, if it makes it easier for you to accept my help, imagine this whole thing is a giant stroke to my . . . ego.”

“Seriously, Jensen Lund. How can you be cocky and humble?”

“It’s hard, let me tell you. But I’ve managed to pull it off and I know you’re impressed with a capital I.”

She laughed softly.

“Besides, on my continuing journey of extreme selflessness, you did find a way to make the camp happen. You told me about it.”

“Dude. You never quit.”

“You’d be disappointed if I did, Coach.”

“True.” She paused. “I expected you’d try to cop a feel since we’re in each other’s faces.”

“A, I’m totally insulted that you think I’d take advantage of you in your fragile emotional state.”

She snorted.

“And B . . . do you equate expected with disappointed? Because if that’s the case, I’ll latch onto that luscious ass of yours with both hands, right now.”

No surprise that was what had her squirming out of my arms.

I should’ve quit while I was ahead.

“In all seriousness. I’ll meet with my aunt Priscilla—aka the big boss at LCCO—Monday and discuss the situation. I don’t know that she’ll have options or suggestions immediately, but if you could be available by phone so I can pass along any of her questions or concerns, that would speed up the process.”

“I’ll be in the office and not out in the training center next week, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Cool.” I pushed to my feet. “It’s late.” I did have the fear of overstaying my welcome. But my fear that I’d get used to spending time with her and want more of it was equally strong.

I’d reached the door when she said, “I don’t even know where to start thanking you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yes, you have. You’ve given me hope.”

When she said sweet and sappy things like that? My insides went mushy.





Ten


JENSEN




One thing I knew was that I’d have a better chance of convincing Aunt Priscilla to fund my project if I presented my case in person at the LCCO offices. Plus, my mother’s presence would help sway my aunt if she seemed hesitant. An official business call meant I couldn’t show up in athletic gear. After my three-hour workout, I returned to my place to slip on a suit.