“Violet is gorgeous,” Logan agreed. “And smart. Damn, Benson. A doctor? She’s too good for you.”
Gaige took the ribbing in stride. Locker room chatter ranged from mild to bawdy to triple x rated. Women were a favorite topic. But girlfriends, fiancées, and wives were off limits for the hardcore stuff. It was an unwritten law. A player only broke it once. Gaige saw to that.
“I’ll admit; Violet is a special woman. But you make it sound like I’ve been hanging around with slags and prostitutes.”
“Well…”
“Fuck you, McBride.” Gaige gave Sean a friendly push.
Sean and Logan’s words followed him to the shower, echoed by other teammates. Gaige laughed. It felt good. His friends realized that Violet was different, and they acted accordingly. Living life as part of a football team could seem strange from the outside. But this was his normal.
He stood under the shower head, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and dirt. Gaige looked at the bruise on his ribs, touching it gingerly. Not bad. The soreness was almost gone. There was no lingering stiffness, and his throwing motion hadn’t been affected. All was a go for tomorrow night’s game.
Gaige’s favorite thing to do on the night before a home game was to stay at home. Sometimes he ordered in, sometimes he cooked. His repertoire was limited, but what he did, he did well.
Tonight, he would show his home to Violet. He wouldn’t ask her to stay. It felt too soon. Hell, they hadn’t kissed. Not yet. It felt good to take things slowly. A little old-fashioned. To him, it meant they had time. He wanted Violet’s time. A lot of it. The faster he moved, the sooner decisions would need to be made. The past still loomed. But not tonight.
Gaige had until Friday. And he planned on making every second count.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VIOLET LOVED EVERYTHING about Seattle. It felt like another world compared to New York. Greener. Lush. She didn’t know if all the coffee references were fact or fiction, but the people didn’t seem to be hopped up on a perpetual influx of caffeine. They moved at a normal pace. Spoke in even, easily understood tones. They were friendly and welcoming.
“I can see why you like it here,” Violet said over her shoulder.
“I love the view.” Gaige handed her a glass of white wine. “The second I saw it I knew this was the place I’d been looking for.”
Violet took a sip and smiled. It was the Sauvignon Blanc made by Karla’s boyfriend. The one she mentioned in passing. The fact that he made a point of buying it made her feel special—cared for.
“I meant Seattle in general, but I see what you mean. Lake Washington is beautiful. Are you ever tempted to walk down the beach and borrow a cup of sugar from Bill Gates?”
“The impulse hasn’t hit me.” Gaige stood next to her, their shoulders brushing. “Next time I’m low I’ll consider it.”
“Does that happen often? Finding yourself low on sugar?”
“Only when I’m in the middle of a cake-baking marathon.”
Violet’s lips twitched, but she held back her smile. “What’s your specialty?”
“Triple-layer devil’s food.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “Ta da.”
Violet’s mouth fell open. Gaige was holding a cake, covered with creamy chocolate frosting. She looked at the cake, then at him. Her eyes narrowed.
“You baked that?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“No.”
“Smart woman. My cleaning lady is a pastry wiz.” Gaige set the cake under a glass dome. “But I did place the order with you in mind.”
“How did you know that chocolate is my favorite?”
“You told me.” When she frowned, he added, “It was a long time ago.”
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
Gaige opened the oven. The lasagna smelled otherworldly good. Closing her eyes, Violet took a deep breath.
“We can eat in half an hour.” He pulled the casserole from the oven. “This needs to rest before we cut it.”
“Devil’s food cake aside, I’m impressed. You play professional football. You cook. You have green eyes.”
Gaige leaned closer until his eyes, and the rest of him, were only inches away. He chuckled. “Is that last one important?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
He was so handsome. Violet didn’t consider herself a shallow person, but damn, looking at Gaige was fast becoming one of her favorite pastimes. She couldn’t resist. Closing the distance between them, she lightly brushed her lips against his.
She heard Gaige suck in his breath.
“You’re playing with fire.”
“It was a little kiss.” Violet’s heart beat faster. “I planned on this happening. Didn’t you?”
“A kiss?” Gaige nodded. Those brilliant green eyes glowed like emerald fire. “It can lead to more. A lot more. Are you ready for that?”
She wanted to shout, hell yes. Instead, she hit the ball back into his court.
“Are you?”
“I don’t know,” Gaige smiled. “Surprised?”
“A little. You have a, how should I put this, bit of a reputation. Sex isn’t a problem, is it?”
“Sex? No.” He took her hand. “This wouldn’t be sex, Violet.”
“What would it be?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“I don’t know. But until I do—until we both do—I want to wait. Is that okay?”
Violet’s heart rate slowed. She felt a calm wash over her. She was fine that Gaige was a player. His past had nothing to do with her. But to hear those words—to know he meant them—touched her deeply.
“Are you any good at it?”
“What. Waiting? Not really.”
Violet shook her head, a teasing smile lighting up her face. “Are you any good at the sex stuff?”
“Oh.” Gaige returned her smile. “Modesty prevents me from going into detail. Are you?”
“Fair question.” Violet sighed. “I used to think so. I like sex. Really.”
“I believe you. And may I say, thank God.”
“I agree. But lately, I’m starting to think that my pilot light has gone out.”
“No heat in the bedroom?”
“Not even a spark.”
“Aw,” Gaige gathered her into his arms. “I appreciate that you aren’t one of those women who automatically puts the blame on her partner. But as a man, I have to admit a lot of us don’t know the proper way to handle a woman’s… equipment.”
“My equipment is in cold storage.” Violet chuckled. “Enough of the bad metaphors. I like sex, but not lately. End of story.”
“Honey,” Gaige brushed back her hair, his eyes warm, his expression tender. “I can promise you. This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.”
“WELCOME TO THURSDAY night football.”
“I’m confused.” Violet took her seat in the stands next to Riley and Claire. “When did Thursday become a thing? I thought the NFL owned Sunday and rented Monday. Now they’ve commandeered Thursday?”
“It’s money, honey.” Riley handed her a large diet coke. “If it were possible, football would never rest.”
“But those big bodies need a few days off.” Claire handed out her cache of hotdogs—loaded with everything—and plenty of napkins. This is game thirteen. Seventeen if you count pre-season. The number of aches and pains are growing. Seattle is lucky. Unlike a lot of teams, they don’t have any major injuries to their starters.”
Violet took a bite of her hotdog. Looking around, she took in the atmosphere of a packed stadium filled with rabid fans. It was a new experience. And she didn’t want to miss a second of it.
When Riley informed her that they were sitting in the stands, she had been surprised. She had expected to view the game from the luxurious owner’s box.
“We like to experience the game with other fans,” Riley had explained. She pointed to the glass-enclosed boxes. “The eye in the sky is corporate—a pl
ace where business deals get done between downs. If you’re a real fan, which we are, this is the place to be on game day.”
Violet had no idea what it would be like, but as the stands filled and the energy rose, she understood exactly what Riley meant.
“This is crazy,” she said, the volume of her voice rising. “I’ve never seen—or heard—anything like it.”
The people around them were the true meaning of fans. Fanatics. They wore team jerseys under team jackets. Some of them painted their faces the team colors. The stands were a sea of blue and gold. Violet felt a little underdressed in a Knights’ scarf and baseball cap.
“The noise never quits,” Claire yelled back. “There will come a point when you can’t hear yourself think.”
“When will that be?” Violet thought she was already there.
“Right about… now.”
Violet felt it first. The rise in excitement. In unison, the fans began to bounce to a mysterious rhythm. Then she heard the music blast through the stadium speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The announcer sounded like he was standing right next to her. “Are you on your feet?”
Violet jumped when everyone shouted, “YES!”
“Are you ready to make some noise?”
Her eyes widened. Make some noise? What did he call this? Violet’s question was immediately answered. The noise grew from a steady rumble to a roar. She looked around. In unison, the fans bounced to the rhythm of the music, swaying from side to side. There was a building anticipation in their vibrating bodies.
It was fascinating. Violet felt like an anthropologist plopped down in the middle of a culture of which she had no prior knowledge. She couldn’t quite grasp the phenomenon surrounding her. She turned to ask Riley and Claire what all the fuss was about. What she saw made her grin. Her new friends had morphed from normal women into shouting lunatics.
Violet shrugged. Maybe you had to be born to it. She enjoyed the spectacle, but she didn’t think she would ever understand the over-the-top excitement that surrounded her.
Five minutes into the game, Violet changed her tune.
“Did you see that?” she screamed, jumping up and down and clutching at Riley’s arm. “Gaige threw the ball halfway down the field. Fifty yards! Oh my God. It was perfect. Perfect!”
Riley and Claire exchanged knowing glances. They had another convert on their hands. Once football was in one’s blood, it was like the best drug ever. Heady. Life changing. And thoroughly addictive. There was no cure. Through good times and bad, one stuck by one’s team. The highs were unbelievable. The lows, soul crushing. There was nothing like it.
Violet couldn’t believe how quickly time passed. It seemed like they had just taken their seats when it was over. The fans looked the way she felt—exhausted but jubilant. The Knights won, and for some crazy reason, she felt as though she had played a part in their victory.
The crowd didn’t seem in any hurry to leave the party, and things were getting rowdier by the second. Riley signaled for Violet and Claire to follow her. Violet was happy to go. Now that the game was over, the beer and endorphins seemed to kick in.
“It gets crazy,” Claire said once they were out of the field area. She smoothed back a stray blond hair that had escaped from her long ponytail. “The funny part is some of those fans are harder to handle after a win than a loss.”
“It wasn’t bad. And we won!” Violet didn’t mention the slap on the ass she received. She had tried to avoid the idiot with the painted face but failed. She doubted he was aiming at her—just anyone within range.
“Hear that?” Riley grinned. “We. The New York girl is jonesing for our West Coast team.” Moving between them, Riley took Violet and Claire by the arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of this madness. We can wait for the guys in my office.
“And it’s all about Gaige,” Claire teased, as they walked down a private corridor. “She didn’t notice that Logan ran for two touchdowns.”
“Or that Sean caught that amazing fifty-yard bomb.” Riley sighed, she flicked her dark hair in mock disdain. “Gaige is such an attention hound.”
“Why not? He is the star of the team.” Violet sent them a wide-eyed innocent look. “Right?”
“Don’t tell Sean that I said this.” Riley guided Violet and Claire onto an elevator. “But when it comes right down to it? Yes. Gaige is the star.”
“He’s the QB,” Claire pointed out. “It goes with the territory.”
“I’m just learning the game, but Gaige isn’t your average quarterback. Is he?” Violet didn’t want to sound like a groupie, but it was hard to contain her enthusiasm.
Riley nodded. “Let me put it this way. If you could construct the perfect person to play the position, Gaige would be as close as they come.”
“He has the perfect body type,” Claire said. “Tall and agile. His speed is deceptive, making him elusive. Defenses have been trying to figure out a way to stop him for as long as he’s been in the league. It hasn’t, but give them credit, they keep on trying.”
Riley’s office was on the small side. As she pointed out, she spent most of her time at the Knights’ training facilities. Game day was the only time she occupied this space. But because she believed in being comfortable at all times, it was beautifully decorated.
“Is that a wine rack?” Violet question was rhetorical. She was already studying the impressive selection.
“Riley is such a show-off.” Claire winked at her friend. “Down deep she’s a beer and pretzels girl.”
“True. But lately, I’ve started to expand my palate.”
“What does that mean?” Claire asked.
“I have no idea. I heard it on the food network. I like what I like. Sometimes it’s wine and lobster. Sometimes it’s pizza and a Coors—hold the light. Tonight feels like water. Straight up.”
Violet agreed. Claire opted for a diet root beer. Riley opened the mini-fridge and pulled out their preferred drinks.
“We’ll be here awhile.” She handed a bottle to Violet. “Harry gives the team a post-game pep talk. Then they shower. Depending on who shined brightest, there are interviews and press conferences. Gaige is always expected to say a few words and answer questions.”
“Always?” Violet asked. She could see it after a game like tonight, but it had to be tough after a loss.
“All part of playing QB. He and the head coach always face the media. Good or bad. Rain or shine. It’s part of their job description.”
“There’s a lot more to it than what we see on the field, isn’t there?”
“Don’t shed any tears over them, Violet. The perks are massive. Sean could write a book.”
“The size of War and Peace,” Claire snickered.
“My guy was a bit of a manwhore,” Riley admitted freely.
“What changed?” Violet queried.
“He grew up. We both did.”
“You know our stories.” Claire sat on the sofa, curling her long legs under her. “How about you?”
Her mouth suddenly dry, Violet took a deep drink of water.
“What has Gaige told you?” That seemed like a safe way to begin the conversation.
“Mr. Close to the Vest?” Riley leaned back in her chair, her blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “He loves it when we spill our guts, but he hates to talk about himself.”
“Nothing?”
Riley thought for a second before nodding. “Besides reciting his career stats—in college and as a professional—here is what I know. He’s thirty-eight years old and in perfect health. I know he’s from Brooklyn. His parents are living, but he never talks about them. I mean never. That subject is off limits in big, flashing neon letters.”
“I asked,” There was no humor in Claire’s brief laugh. “Once.”
“Everybody gets one,” Riley agreed. “Ask again?”
Not certain she wanted to know, Violet couldn’t help herself. “What happens?”
“I don’t think anyone has ever had
the nerve to find out,” Riley informed her.
“Unless Gaige hid the body.”
There was no question that Claire was joking. But her comment was the reason Violet didn’t laugh. She had information she could share with her new friends. But it was apparent that Gaige had kept that chapter of his life private. She wasn’t going to be the one who violated his wishes.
“I don’t know a lot about his home life,” Violet chose her words carefully. “We met just after he graduated college.” When she thought he was an out of work economics major instead of the Knights’ first round draft pick. “Things moved fast. Decisions were made without our knowledge. Ultimately, we weren’t allowed to make our own choices.”
“I’ll bet there’s quite a story behind those cryptic words.”
Violet nodded at Riley.
“Gaige doesn’t know most of it. Until he does…”
“You can’t tell us,” Claire finished for her.
“Thank you for understanding.”
“We do,” Claire said. Riley nodded. “But as soon as you can, promise you’ll tell us everything.”
“It depends on Gaige.”
Riley groaned. “That means we’ll never find out.”
Violet hoped Riley was wrong. She wanted friends with whom she could share things like this. To share confidences and hear them in return. Perhaps she could have that with Claire and Riley. Like she said, it was up to Gaige. And tonight, she would put something in motion that, hopefully, would give her the answers she needed.
GAIGE BUTTONED HIS jacket, glad that the post-game circus was finally over. There were times it wore him out more than the game. The endless repetitive questions. Hell, comparatively, tonight’s game had been a walk in the park. The victory came easily—not that he would ever share his thoughts. Every game was a battle waged against a worthy opponent. Suggesting otherwise wasn’t done. Not publicly. Or in the locker room.
“If every win were that easy, we could put our feet up and drink Pina Coladas all season.”
Hearing his thoughts verbalized, Gaige groaned. He couldn’t see the culprit, but he recognized the voice.
“That’s rookie speak, Fielder.” Gaige raised his voice so everyone could hear—not just the offensive tackle who had been in the league long enough to know better. “If I were closer, I would slap you upside the head.”
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