Tanner spun to face Lance, shaking his head, feeling himself flush with embarrassment.
“No! I couldn’t accept all this. It’s way too much.”
Lance opened his mouth to reply, but Tanner didn’t give him a chance.
“Seriously. I can’t take all this for free. Maybe—” he bit his bottom lip, thinking hard as he looked over the pile of furniture again. “Maybe I could work it off?”
Lance eyed him skeptically at first.
“I didn’t mean sexually—just so we’re clear,” he added, in a quick bid for humour.
Lance chuckled and shook his head. “Nice to know you’re not one of the freaks and weirdos.”
It had the intended effect, though, because Lance seemed to consider his offer. Tanner supposed offering to work it off when he had only one good arm and one good leg wasn’t really all that convincing. But it must have worked because Lance finally nodded in agreement.
“How about we hammer out the details over dinner. I’m sure the grill is ready by now and I’m starving.”
“Great plan!” he agreed with an enthusiastic nod.
Lance led the way back downstairs.
It was a gorgeous evening. The sun was still up, but the oak trees around Lance’s back deck provided plenty of shade. He felt pretty useless watching Lance work the grill, but he’d been told quite firmly that since he was a guest his job was to relax in a lawn chair with a beer while the steaks were cooking. He’d been listening with half an ear while Lance talked about the neighbourhood when a thought occurred to him.
“Hey, Lance, can I ask you something?”
“Sure! Shoot!” Lance directed with a smile as he shut the top of the grill and turned to face him.
“Why didn’t you play after college?”
Lance grinned ruefully and nodded. “That’s right, you’re a Badgers fan. Truth? I was never a diehard player. I played because I was good, and it paid my way through college, but—that was it.”
“No fucking way! I’m not buying it,” Tanner protested.
“God’s honest truth!” Lance held up his right hand as if taking an oath.
“Dude. Seriously? I’ve seen you in plenty of games. You definitely looked like you were enjoying it.”
Lance tipped his head from side to side.
“You can’tnotenjoy it while you’re playing. But I didn’t miss it during those times I was off the field, and I didn’t crave it like the real diehards do. It was just fun. Even felt like a god sometimes. All those people chanting your name—” he broke off while gazing off into the distance like he was reliving his glory days.
“So, what do you do now?” Tanner asked curiously. Lance groaned, as if dreading having to answer that question. It only made Tanner even more curious.
“I’m an accountant.”
Tanner couldn’t contain his boisterous laughter. That was definitely the very last job he’d envisioned for his favorite ex-quarterback.
“Come on now!” Lance exclaimed, pretending to be deeply offended. “It’s a cool job!”
More laughter and a few snorts later, Tanner had to wipe tears from his eyes.
“Accountant? You turned down offers from all those NFL scouts to become an accountant? Holy shit!”
Lance smiled despite himself as he observed Tanner’s reaction. He shook his head and checked on the steaks. “Everybody’s a critic,” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” Tanner said insincerely, still wearing a huge smile. “If that’s what you wanted to do with your life, I shouldn’t be laughing at you. It’s just—out of all the options you must have had after college—accountant seems awfullytame.”
Lance nodded in agreement and sighed. “I know it sounds crazy, but—I didn’t want that life. Getting chased down by 300-pound offensive linemen is fun when you’re 18 and feel immortal—not so much at 28. Besides, I like numbers. I’m good with numbers. It pays well, and—it’s just a job, really. It’s a means to an end. Keeps the lights on and food on the table, among other things.”
