When I Need You (Need You #4)

“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.

A week in which only my pride kept me from asking Bob, the apartment complex manager, if Rowan had moved out.

A week in which I’d convinced myself the only reason I’d wanted Rowan to begin with was because I couldn’t have her. That “out of sight, out of mind” would cure my obsession with her.

But as I looked at her, I realized my feelings hadn’t changed. At all.

Immediately Rowan focused on Astrid, but Calder was all about me.

“Hey, Jensen! I can’t believe I didn’t see you all week.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even watch Chopped.”

I couldn’t mask how much I needed to hear that. “I missed you too, ninja-boy.”

“Didja know I graduated from kindergarten last week?”

“I never doubted for a second that you’d pass.” I leaned closer to whisper, “Did you say, ‘In your face!’ to Tiara the troublemaker?”

“Huh-uh,” he whispered back. “I’m not mean like her.”

“Good for you for having in-teg-rity.” I held my fist out for a bump. “Congrats on officially being a first-grader.”

He bounced a couple of times and pointed at the paperwork in front of me. “Does it say that I’m a first-grader?”

“Of course it does.”

“That’s why I got up really, really early today because I was so excited to come to camp!”

Do not look at his mother and ask her if her son was so eager, then why are they arriving late?

“During camp you should be respectful and call him Mr. Lund,” Rowan said to him.

Calder blinked those big brown eyes at me. “Really?”

“Nope. Doesn’t matter where we are, you call me Jensen, because we’re friends.”

He looked relieved. “Okay.” Then he was back to bouncing with excitement. “Know what else?”

“What?”

“I made my own lunch today! Guess what it is.”

“A PB and J, baby carrots and a root beer.”

“Huh-uh.” He leaned in and whispered. “It’s fancy.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but his earnestness just got to me and I grinned. “I’m not a fancy-food guy. You know I can’t cook worth sh—beans, so hit me with this fancy-schmancy sandwich that Chef Calder created this morning.”

“Deviled ham on toast!”

“Wow. That is right uptown.”

“And I have a hard-boiled egg, pepper sticks and hummus too.”

“Pepper sticks?”

“Sliced red and green peppers to dip into the hummus,” Rowan said.

“Thanks, Coach Michaels, for the clarification.”

“What’s in your lunch?” Calder asked.

I groaned. “Shoot. That’s the one thing I forgot this morning.”

“Oh. Well . . . you can have some of mine.”

This boy’s sweetness slayed me. I reached out and tugged on his hair. “Thanks for the offer, little dude, but you’ll be starved after dance class.”

“Maybe you could call your mommy and she’ll bring you something.”

“Come on,” Rowan said to Calder, “let’s put away your lunch and find your dance class.”

She left without making eye contact with me.

As soon as Rowan was out of sight, Astrid said, “Brrr . . . it’s cold in here.” Clap clap. “There must be a mad coach in the atmosphere.” Clap clap. “I said . . . Brrr—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hilarious.”

“So, what did you do to the ravishing Rowan to make her act like that to you?”

I pinned Astrid with a hard look. “Don’t you have shit to file? Calls to make? Clerical duties to perform?”

Astrid saluted. “Yes, sir, boss man. Sir. I’ll keep my questions to myself.” She pushed away from the table. Then she stopped in front of me. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

Of course not.

“Even when Rowan acted cold to you, when she watched you interacting with her son . . . she thawed out a lot. She even smiled. Twice.”

“So you’re a voyeur too?”

She laughed. “I couldn’t help but watch her because she is one hot mama. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off you, even if those eyes were shooting daggers. Watching you two neighbors dance around each other is gonna be entertaining. I might even bring popcorn.”

I pointed at the office.

She laughed again . . . and did the cheer from Bring It On until she vanished from my sight.

Surrounded by meddling smart-asses appeared to be my lot in life.

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