Ball Buster

by Kara Sheridan

  “You knew he was meant for greater things when you started dating him, Sadie. Everyone did. He was born with a football in his right hand.”

  Sadie snorted. “Yeah, and a big ego and outdated expectations about women.”

  “He was raised by traditional Southern parents. And had single-minded focus back then, Sadie. Can you blame him?”

  “Yeah, I can.”

  “Weren’t you just as ambitious when it came to your studies and landing a full scholarship to a fancy college?”

  Why was her best friend suddenly defending Carson? “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Well he was just as ambitious about football. And he’s changed so much since then. Losing you and playing pro sports has opened up his mind. I think he now understands the importance of respecting your dreams as much as his own. And from what you’re telling me, he still wants you. That’s more than most women get!”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “And that ass shot…” Barbi made a silly face.

  Sadie’s cheeks heated. “Oh. My. God. Barbi. That’s not helping.”

  Barbie only laughed. Sadie couldn’t get upset with Barbi for being like every other hot-blooded woman. Carson was the all-American boy every father wanted for his son and every woman wanted in her bed. “I’ll get over him, eventually. When I’m back home in South Carolina waiting for my next project. Preferably an assignment on another continent.”

  “Listen, girlie. Forget about all this stuff for the night. Have fun for once. Treat Carson like he’s an old friend. Share a good meal, have a few drinks, and don’t be afraid to reminisce about the old days. It’s normal and healthy. If you feel uncomfortable, call a cab.”

  “Okay. Love you.” Sadie blew her best friend a parting kiss.

  Carson checked his watch for a third time in fifteen minutes. It wasn’t like Sadie to be late, not even fashionably. Not in the mood to deal with the public, he chose a seat in the corner of the hotel lobby behind a potted fern where he could keep an eye on the elevators. If she didn’t hurry up, he’d head upstairs and drag her out of her room.

  Was Sadie testing him? Trying to drive him crazy? Or just letting him know on no uncertain terms that she didn’t want anything to do with him?

  Just then, the elevator doors opened and Sadie stepped into the lobby. He stood up abruptly, his gaze locking on her. As if sensing his presence, she looked in his direction. Those wide, green eyes and lush lips made him weak-kneed. And that blue dress, he bit down on his lip, stopping the animalistic growl he naturally wanted to make. Sadie had never looked more beautiful. And Carson couldn’t remember a moment when he wanted her more.

  Meeting her near the front doors, he greeted her with a smile. “You look gorgeous, Kitty Kat.” Though she’d demanded he stop using her pet name, he refused to give up that right. How many men could say they fell in love with a girl stuck in a tree with a kitten? He chuckled out loud.

  “Hello, Carson. What’s so entertaining?”

  Placing his hand on the small of her back, he didn’t answer her question but guided her through the front doors, the sultry evening air made his skin tingle.

  Within seconds, the valet delivered Carson’s new black Dodge Viper VooDoo II Edition ACR, tossing Carson the keys with a shit-eating grin on his face. “How many of these were made, Mr. Savage?”

  “Thirty-one. How’d she handle?”

  “Tight,” the valet answered.

  Carson tipped the valet a twenty and then opened the passenger-side door for Sadie.

  She gawked at the car before she slid inside. “Jesus, Carson, can’t you drive something more practical?”

  He rolled his eyes as he walked around to his side. “And what do you drive? Let me guess, a hybrid?” He revved the engine, all 645 horsepower, showing her exactly what he loved about it. “Some things aren’t meant to be practical, Sadie.” He peeled out of the parking lot, merging safely with traffic.

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I drive a Mercedes-Benz GLA.”

  “Quite the utilitarian, aren’t you?” he teased. “But can your little GLA do this?” He whipped into the far left lane, finding enough open road to speed up. He guessed it was accidental, but she smiled like she used to when he’d take her for long, fast rides in his Corvette after a Friday night game in Fairhope. “Some things never change, Kitty Kat.” He gazed at her, hoping to keep that smile on her face.

  Much to his surprise, it grew wider, and her eyes lit up. “I can’t believe you own a Viper!”

  “One of my little indulgences.”

  “Little?”

  “Compared to my Lamborghini…”

  “Now you’re just showboating.”

  He held up his thumb and index finger, indicating an inch. “Maybe. But really, I consider my collection an investment.”

  “Do you still ride a motorcycle?”

  “Every chance I get.”

  “I miss…” she stopped midsentence.

  Unable to resist the chance to make a real connection with her, Carson rested his palm lightly on her exposed knee. Her skin was smooth and soft. “What do you miss, Kitty Kat?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing,” she said, her body rigid.

  Even though she acted like she didn’t want to be touched, Carson could feel the electricity between them. He casually removed his hand and shifted gears. “Did you enjoy breakfast?”

  Sadie huffed out a breath and stared out the passenger window. “Three dozen roses? Pancakes and bacon? Are you trying to get me fat, Carson?” She looked at him.

  “Um…” He knew there was no right answer to that question.

  She drummed her fingernails on the dashboard. “Kitty Kat got your tongue?” She arched a brow.

  Sonofabitch. If she gave him a chance, she’d get more than his tongue.

  Then she laughed, which made Carson chuckle, too. “Relax, superstar,” she teased, using one of the many names she called him in high school. “Thank you for the flowers and the amazing food. But I don’t usually eat breakfast during the week.”

  “Consider it the beginning of our new friendship,” he said, knowing he intended to get that damned kiss before the night ended.

  “Friends?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I know you too well, Carson Savage.”

  He laughed and weaved in and out of traffic, burning off some of the building tension inside him by going faster. “You’ll know a lot more before our date ends, Kitty Kat. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sadie stood near the entrance of Wintzell’s Oyster House while Carson parked the car. Damn, he was big and muscular, and his ass looked too good in those stonewashed jeans he was wearing. The classic, short-sleeved black Polo shirt hugged his broad chest. And his arms…Sadie had to look away before he caught her staring at his biceps. He’d always been well-built, but she guessed since the last time they’d seen each other he’d gained thirty pounds of sheer muscle.

  As he approached, she said. “I can’t believe you made a reservation for us here. I love this place.”

  Carson pointed to the funny and iconic sign by the front doors: OYSTERS—FRIED, STEWED, AND NUDE. “Who can resist their oysters?”

  The restaurant was located on Dauphin Street, in an unremarkable part of Mobile, but Sadie knew how amazing the food was. She even heard something about Oprah endorsing the food here.

  Carson opened the door for her, and she stepped inside—the place was packed and noisy in a good way. Carson was immediately greeted by the manager.

  “Good to see you, Carson.” They shook hands.

  “Hey, Randy.”

  “Loved that thirty-yard pass to Henry for a touchdown in the fourth quarter last week. You were on fire, brother!”

  “Thanks for supporting the team.” Carson fist bumped his friend. “Did my special request come through soon enough?”

  Randy looked at Sadie, then back to Carson. “Anything for you.”
>
  “Sadie.” Carson placed his hand at the small of her back, nudging her forward. “This is Randy DeLeon.”

  Sadie shook his hand enthusiastically. “It’s nice to meet you. I used to come here as a kid.”

  “So did I.” Randy smiled. “Never thought I’d end up running the place.” The manager whispered something to the hostess standing nearby, then returned his attention to Carson. “Everything is ready. Follow me.”

  As they maneuvered through the busy dining room, Sadie was pleased to see nothing had changed. The sea-green paneled walls decorated with local memorabilia made her feel at home. Walking down a narrow hallway, Randy turned right through an archway.

  “Our private dining room,” Randy announced, pulling out a chair at a nicely appointed table.

  Sadie set her clutch down on a nearby chair and then sat, admiring the crisp white tablecloth and matching embroidered linens. Though the room was small, the air of intimacy with the oval-shaped stained-glass window and the nineteenth-century crystal chandelier overhead made it feel as if they were in a five-star restaurant. There was a white brick gas fireplace on the far wall, the yellow flames adding more charm to the space.

  “Would you like to know what’s for dinner?” Randy asked.

  Sadie nodded, her stomach clamoring for a taste of oysters. Carson claimed the chair to her right.

  “To start, four-dozen chargrilled oysters smothered in butter and cheese, served with Champagne. The main course is crab-stuffed flounder with steamed broccoli and rice pilaf. For dessert…”

  Sadie held up her hand. “You’re killing me, Randy. Surprise me with dessert.”

  Randy chuckled. “Anything for the lady.” He left the room.

  “Carson,” she said, studying his face with renewed interest. “I can’t believe you remembered how much this place means to me.”

  “Not just you, Sadie.” He scooped her hand into his, massaging her knuckles with his thumb. “Remember our junior year state championship?”

  She swallowed hard, her mind wandering back to a different place—a different lifetime, really. The Fairhope Vipers had just crushed the Huntsville Panthers 42-16, winning the state championship for a third consecutive year. Sadie had made a promise before kickoff—hugging Carson close and whispering in his ear, “Win this game for me and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Instead of celebrating with the team, Carson and Sadie escaped to Mobile, had dinner at Wintzell’s, then rented a hotel room, where she finally offered her body to Carson.

  The memory made her insides sizzle. She squeezed Carson’s hand. “How could I forget?”

  His intense stare told her all she needed to know—he remembered it, too.

  As Randy returned with a tray and a server in his wake, Sadie withdrew her hand from Carson’s. This “business” dinner had suddenly taken on a new meaning. In fact, if she was forced to confess her sins in that moment, the first thing out of her mouth would be how good it felt to be with Carson again. How right it felt. How exciting it was to watch people react to his presence and then smile at her—like she was the luckiest woman in the world. But Sadie knew better: Carson didn’t belong to her anymore.

  And she definitely didn’t belong to him.

  Charleston, South Carolina, and Mobile, Alabama, were over six hundred miles apart—too far to maintain any kind of serious relationship with Carson. Even if that opportunity presented itself, she’d absolutely reject it on every level. Carson could charm a rattlesnake. That didn’t make him boyfriend material. It didn’t even qualify him for long-term friendship. When it came to her, Sadie didn’t believe he could stay within the boundaries of what friendship meant. And, deep down, she knew she wouldn’t want him to.

  “Can I get you anything else, Sadie?” Randy asked.

  She glanced at the table; everything looked wonderful. “No. thank you.”

  Carson unfolded his linen napkin and then draped it across his lap. He offered her a flute of Champagne and picked up his own. “To us, Kitty Kat.”

  She raised her glass and Carson tapped it with his. “No matter how many times I ask you to quit calling me that silly name, you refuse to stop.”

  “I’m a creature of habit.”

  “I’ll have to agree with the creature part,” she teased.

  Carson gave her his best simper and traded his flute for a fork, picking up one of the oysters from the half shell. “Open wide, Sadie.”

  “You’re not really going to feed me…” Before she could finish, the fork slipped between her lips. The aroma of butter and the taste of smoky cheese gave her no choice but to suck the oyster off the fork. She closed her eyes and groaned in ecstasy, remembering that taste too well. “You don’t play fair, Carson.”

  Rewarded with a panty-melting smirk, he then sampled the delectable oysters, too.

  Sadie took a sip of Champagne as she watched, then picked up her own seafood fork and helped herself to three more oysters. “What made you accept the contract with the Warriors over the Cowboys?” Though she’d moved out of state after their breakup, she’d still followed his career closely. And Barbi and Erika filled her in on all the hometown gossip.

  “Two million in signing bonuses.”

  Impressive, to say the least, but she knew money alone wouldn’t have swayed him. She shook her head. “It was never just about the money for you.” Even in high school everybody knew Carson was destined for the NFL.

  “You’re right,” he confirmed, “though it helps. I weighed the pros and cons—considered what Mom wanted me to do. And then I thought about living in Texas…”

  “Weren’t ready for cowboy hats and tacos for breakfast?”

  Carson snorted. “I love tacos.”

  “Plus you’d look hot in a cowboy hat, maybe a black Stetson.”

  “You think I’m hot?” Carson asked.

  “Jesus,” she sighed. “You don’t need my admiration to figure it out, Carson. You know every woman who knows football or sees you on the cover of a magazine fantasizes about you, right?”

  He waggled his eyebrows and laughed. “Now how would you know that?”

  “My recent research about you and the team. Can’t miss the marriage proposals or comments about your tight ass and sexy smile on social media.”

  He dismissed the praise with a wave of his hand. “Next year someone else will dominate the news.”

  “Unlikely,” she said. This was the perfect opportunity to steer their conversation into a more professional area. “You’re not just a trending topic on Twitter or Facebook, Carson. Social media is growing at an explosive rate. And when it comes to you, your brand holds up over time while the popularity of other players on your team has waned.”

  He refilled their flutes. “I don’t give a shit about any of that right now, Kitty Kat.”

  “You should.”

  “Yeah—I know.”

  “Tell me why you think your fans are so passionate about you.”

  He circled the rim of his flute with his finger. “Maybe I don’t lie about who or what I am.”

  His posting history confirmed it. Despite his wealth, talent, and growing popularity, Carson often shared personal insight, asked his fans for advice on how to improve his game, and never commented about controversial topics like religion or politics. Sure, he supported the military and demonstrated his patriotism, but it stopped there.

  “Social media posts compete with others to survive…nine times out of ten, yours wins.”

  “Compared to who?”

  “Take your pick. Athletes in general. NFL players. We can even narrow it down to quarterbacks.”

  “Is that what they taught you in that little private school in New England, how to measure trends?”

  Sadie pursed her lips. “Dartmouth is an Ivy League school, Carson.”

  “I know, Kitty Kat. You did good.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into his big, warm hand. “Better than me. Always did.”

&nb
sp; The compliment warmed her heart…or was that her second glass of Champagne? She’d always been a bit of a lightweight when it came to alcohol. “What do you mean?”

  “I was born with the proverbial silver spoon up my ass.” Carson’s father owned a chain of successful Chevy dealerships in Alabama and northwestern Florida. When the economy tanked, so did his father’s bank account. While Carson was in college, his father rejoined the military. “You started with nothing, Kitty Kat—earned that scholarship by merit alone.”

  Unfortunately, Carson’s father died while on deployment in Afghanistan, once again throwing Carson’s life into a tailspin. He started to drink again, the way he did after she broke up with him. “Thank you for the praise, Carson, but I’m pretty sure money didn’t give you that throwing arm.”

  “It helped,” he admitted.

  In desperate need of changing the subject, she asked, “How’s your mother? Sisters?”

  “You know how my mom is stubborn and prideful. I paid off her mortgage and offered her a generous allowance so she could stay home and take care of the girls. Flatly refused to do it.”

  “Is she still working at the insurance office?”

  Carson nodded. “Yep.”

  “What about Genevieve? She’s what, sixteen now?”

  “Going on twenty-five.”

  Sadie remembered how Genny would follow them around, gaga over her big brother. “And Heather?”

  “Heather, Stacey, and Suzanne are all blossoming into equal pains in the ass. If I have to hear about another Justin Bieber song or the latest gossip about a Kardashian, I’m going to hurl.”

  Sadie expelled a deep sigh. Barbi was right: relaxing and enjoying some great conversation with Carson is just what she needed. What harm was there in catching up? In admitting she’d missed his companionship? As long as they kept their clothes on, was he really dangerous? After a long look at him, she knew the obvious answer. Yes.

  “How’s your mom and dad?”

  Sadie didn’t want to talk about herself or her family. “I settled them in a nice condo in Huntsville a few years ago.”