I Still Do by Christie Ridgway Page A

Emily said, her voice a little faint.
    â€œHe was a bad boy, our Wild Will,” Patrick confirmed. “Envy of the guys, the goal of the girls.”
    She was trying to absorb all that when Will leaned close to insert himself into the conversation. “What are you two talking about?” His brows met as his gaze darted between Emily and Patrick. “You’re not hitting on her, are you, Pat?”
    â€œNo, Will,” Patrick protested. “No way.”
    Will focused on Emily’s face. “Then why do you look so…so…” He made a vague gesture. “Upset?”
    â€œI’m not upset.” A cannon at the end zone boomed, announcing the beginning of the game, and everyone around her directed their attention to the field, including, thank goodness, Patrick and Will.
    She wasn’t upset.
    But she had plenty of time to try to figure out what she was, because she’d never been a big fan of football. Who could follow that little dirt-colored ball? And there wasn’t much else to think about besides how dangerously low teenage girls’ denim rode when they sat and why they didn’t seem to feel the draft down the back gap of their blue jeans.
    Will—her Will—had been “bad” September through June? How then, come summer camp, was he the attentive, sweet, good boyfriend that she remembered? Not once had he tried wheedling any code out of her that would give him access to her bed. Though their kisses had been frequent and sometimes a little bit hot, he’d never pushed her for anything physical either.
    Because when school started up again he had all the nookie he needed?
    She shot him an assessing look, but he was focused on the game. Probably because he’d been such a player at one time himself, she thought. And not just the football kind of player, either.
    So which Will had she met in Las Vegas? The sweet summer guy or the bad boy on the make?
    Annoyance flaring again, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned slightly on the bleacher to study his handsome profile. Before she divorced, she decided, she certainly wanted to figure out which one she’d married.
    Â 
    Betsy had another ride home, Will was relieved to hear, because that left him alone with Emily for the drive back from the game. Something was wrong and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, so he was taking the back roads to her place to give him more opportunity to figure out what was up with her mood. Sometime after the start of the game she’d gone ultra-quiet and had stayed that way through the fourth quarter. It was no way to make new friends.
    And a befriended Emily was his path to freedom.
    Reaching over, he turned up the heat because the atmosphere in the truck’s cab was decidedly chilly. It was nothing like the ride on the way to the high school stadium, when Emily’s perfume had teased his nose and her warmth had been pressed close to him. Now she was cuddling the passenger door, closer to it than she’d even been to him during the game when she’d been sandwiched on the bleacher between him and Pat.
    Pat.
    He remembered her chatting with the other man before the start of the first quarter. Damn. Had Pat-the-Rat done or said something to offend her?
    â€œHe’s harmless,” Will ventured, glancing over even though he couldn’t see her expression because the back route they were taking was just that dark. “Pat, I mean. Whatever he said, it doesn’t mean anything.”
    â€œAre you calling him a compulsive liar?”
    â€œNo, of course not. I just meant that he wouldn’t knowingly cause offense. Did he say something rude to you?”
    â€œNo. He didn’t say anything rude.”
    â€œOkay.” Will breathed a little easier. “Good. You just seemed a little, I don’t know, subdued tonight.”
    Get a grip, Dailey, he told himself. Emily had been sick recently and then this evening she’d