Ball Buster

by Kara Sheridan

  “Advice to live by,” Carson said. “I have to go, sweetheart. See you on the field.”

  Sadie gave Carson a quick hug. “Good luck.”

  The walk through the tunnel that led to the stadium field felt eerily lonely, the usual twang of excitement in his gut absent. Count that as a first. The reason he kept playing was because of the butterflies he always felt right before a game. Didn’t matter if his team was on a winning or losing streak or how many fans were in the stands. Carson loved the game. Plain and simple. When Sadie had been at his side during his high school career, it’d been that much sweeter.

  He paused halfway down the tunnel, spotting his team lining up ahead. Looking in the opposite direction, toward the locker room, he wondered what it would feel like to march back inside, hang his jersey and helmet up, and then simply walk away—quit. The desolate feelings that thought provoked were similar to how his heart felt without Sadie. Carson was tired from teeter-tottering on the unknown. He wanted Sadie and wasn’t sure he could keep her if he stayed in Alabama.

  “Carson!” Coach called.

  Carson snapped out of his thoughts, shoved his mouthguard in, and then secured his helmet on his head. As he jogged the rest of the way to his team, catching the sound of the fans above stomping their feet to the rhythm of “We Will Rock You” by Queen, he couldn’t resist smiling. A man with half his heart full trumped a man with an empty one. That’s what he’d focus on tonight as he ran out of the tunnel and into the spotlight—thirty thousand fans jumping up from their seats, clapping and screaming his name.

  Though tonight was only meant to showcase the talents of the offense and defense for the fans, Carson never threw a ball half-assed.

  He stepped up to the line of scrimmage, placed his hands under his center, and yelled, “Red sixty, red sixty, alpha-omega, hut-hut.”

  Jag Patera snapped the ball, and Carson dropped back, looking for an open receiver. He spotted Ty, throwing a perfect spiral that ended up in his best friend’s hands. With a grin plastered on his face, Carson raised his fist in the air, celebrating the forty-yard pass and equally impressive catch and run Ty had made.

  Then he searched the sideline for Sadie. She was there, camera in hand, not missing an opportunity to take positive pictures for the Warriors.

  Dressed in a navy blue mini dress and black heels, hair in a messy bun, Sadie decided to attend the party with Carson. She credited Leonard’s adage—run with the big dogs or stay on the porch—for giving her the final nudge she needed to just go and not worry about what anyone else thought. This was her life. And Carson deserved a confident girlfriend, not one who would run away every time she felt uncomfortable. She’d already let Jason get the best of her once, and that wouldn’t happen again.

  She’d misjudged Carson and her own feelings. How long had she lived under the disillusionment that she didn’t need intimacy, that she could keep living by herself without opening her heart? Not that she was ready to surrender her heart quite yet, but the early signs of deeper feelings for Carson were emerging. It frightened her.

  Leaning against his truck, she waited patiently as players started to file out of the team facilities. Family Night had been a success, and Sadie hadn’t missed a chance to take intimate photos and video footage of her players interacting with the public.

  Ty had a way with children, and she’d already posted several pictures on his social media pages of him working one-on-one with boys and girls at the youth obstacle course. The response was overwhelmingly positive, hundreds of mom fans liking and sharing the pics. She checked his Facebook page again, smiling at the early results. It had been a week since the star tight end had posted any controversial content. Though he complained incessantly about keeping his bad boy image, she knew he wasn’t serious.

  There were so many positives to concentrate on. However, that didn’t negate the darker elements of being a football player. The alcohol and drugs, wild parties, and the biggest risk—the gorgeous women who seemed to line up for any of the players.

  “Hey, beautiful,” someone called out.

  Sadie looked around, wondering who the compliment was for.

  Jag Patera stopped in front of her, running his hand up her arm. “Did you enjoy the drills?”

  Sadie took a step to the side and smiled. “I enjoyed the kids the most.”

  “What are you doing in the parking lot all alone?”

  “Waiting for Carson,” she said, hoping he’d show up soon. Jag didn’t exactly creep her out, but he had a predatory air about him that made her nervous. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yeah. Still in the shower playing with his…” He gazed at her. “Never mind. Let me give you a ride to the party. That’s where you’re going, right?”

  She nodded. “With Carson.”

  “You two a thing?” Jag crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We’re something,” she said.

  Jag cocked his head. “When you’re done playing around with the quarterback, come see me.” Sadie shook her head as he walked away, wondering what in the hell that was all about.

  “Looked for you inside,” she heard Carson say a couple minutes later.

  She turned around, happy to see him.

  Carson lifted her hand to his lips and planted a feather-light kiss on her palm, then twirled her about, whistling at her. “You clean up nice, Kitty Kat. I’m guessing by the way you’re dressed, you decided to step out with me?”

  “Yes. I’m okay with the world knowing we’re together.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “You sure?”

  “I’m sorry for making you wait. I’m trying to overcome some of those old bad habits of mine, Carson. This is a big deal for me.”

  “You don’t know how happy it makes me.” He tugged her into his arms and kissed her. “You’re beautiful.”

  So was he. He looked edible in his charcoal-colored suit, the light blue shirt underneath unbuttoned low enough to show off his blond chest hair. His curls were damp and slicked back with a touch of polishing gel, the subtle citrusy scent of his cologne teasing her senses.

  Maybe they could skip the party and go to her hotel or his house and make up for some lost time.

  “You’re quiet,” he said.

  Hooking her arms around his neck, she pulled him in for another kiss, nipping his bottom lip.

  Carson growled, lifted her off her feet, and wedged her between his body and the door of his truck. “I’ve missed you,” he said near her ear.

  “Can we skip the party?” Lust bloomed inside her.

  Carson planted a hand on one side of her head, then raked his fingers through his hair with the other. “I wish we could, sweetheart. This is a private party—potential sponsor for the team. I promised Jack I’d make an appearance. Now, how long we stay…” He ran a finger between her breasts, stopping when he noticed the pendant she was wearing. “Sadie? Is this…?”

  The first gift Carson had ever given her, the gold and jade carved dragon held special meaning to her. She always traveled with a jewelry box, and before she left South Carolina, she slipped the piece in with her collection of otherwise business-appropriate pieces.

  “You kept it?”

  “I have everything you’ve ever given me, Carson.”

  He rested his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes. “You never stop surprising me.”

  Feeling vulnerable, Sadie averted her eyes. Carson cupped the base of her neck, massaging the anxiety away. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely. It’s been a long time, going out like this with a man.”

  He placed a finger over her lips. “Shh. I don’t want to know about your other men.”

  She understood—Carson had been her first lover. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Breathing in, Carson’s expression softened. “Sorry, Kitty Kat. I shouldn’t let my petty jealousy get in the way of letting you explain. God knows you’ve seen enough of my conquests in the news.”

  She nodded in appreci
ation. “I dated David Hemmer my freshman year in college. Didn’t work out very well—he couldn’t live up to the Carson standard.”

  “The Carson standard?”

  “A term Barbi coined a long time ago.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I miss that girl.”

  “She’s one of your biggest fans.”

  “Tell me more about this standard?”

  She swatted his arm. “You’re such an attention hound. I’m trying to tell you something important. I felt so alone without you,” she confessed. “So, I tried to replace you. Blond hair and blue eyes were the primary prerequisites.”

  His lips hitched up, the warmth of his smile as potent as his touch. “You’ve only dated one man in seven years, Sadie?” Why did he look so hopeful?

  “No, I’ve dated a dozen men since we broke up—but only slept with two.”

  “God, I love you.” He crushed her against his chest, stroking her head. “I’m afraid I haven’t been a saint, Kitty Kat. I regret what I’ve done on most days.”

  The beat of Carson’s heart against her cheek made her feel safe. “You don’t need to explain. I may not like what I know, but I understand why, I think.”

  “You do?”

  “You were trying to do the same thing, replace us—searching for the same feeling but never finding it.”

  His embrace grew tighter, his rhythmic breaths a sign that he was in deep contemplation over what they’d just shared with each other. “I used sex to cover up my true feelings.”

  “Did you ever actually like any of them?” She pulled back so she could see his face.

  “Maybe one or two, but it never went anywhere. My heart was desperate to get you back. Then I’d get shitfaced to cover up the pain.”

  “I’m sorry, Carson.”

  “You’ll never know how sorry I am, too, Sadie.”

  Their gazes locked again, and Sadie knew there was a lifetime of things she wanted to share with him.

  “We should go,” he said, walking her to the other side of the truck.

  As she climbed into the seat, he paused. “Don’t run away again, Sadie. Promise me.”

  Carson had remained a constant in her life, influencing the decisions she made, the people she dated, even the self-imposed misery her heart lived in. Could she trust herself to take this leap of faith and have a normal relationship? She took in his features, not missing the hope in his eyes. “I promise,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Carson pulled into a curving driveway in a gated community, finding a long line of vehicles waiting for the valet. “Might take a bit,” he said, reaching for Sadie’s hand.

  She gazed out the windshield. “Whose house is this?”

  “Martin Solese, owner of Alabama Solar.”

  “He’s the new sponsor?” She looked surprised.

  “A big maybe,” he said, pulling up another couple of feet.

  “His estate is beautiful.”

  “Three thousand acres of pristine pastureland, orchards, and vineyards.”

  “He owns a winery?”

  “Several.”

  “I can’t imagine having that kind of money.”

  “Neither can I.” He pointed at the main house. “What’s the point of building a new home that’s a replica of a plantation? Do you know how many dilapidated properties are available around here? Ones the Historical Society is hoping someone will come along and restore?”

  “New money,” Sadie offered. “Wants the charm and prestige, but none of the headaches that accompany a hundred-year-old-plus property. Whoever designed the place should win an architectural award. The symmetrical façade, stacked porches, and Greek columns look authentic. Extravagant.”

  “Wait until you see the interior.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Twice.”

  After fifteen minutes, a valet finally opened Sadie’s door, and she climbed out. Carson joined her, placed his hand at the small of her back, and smiled. “Ready, sweetheart?”

  The grand foyer was crowded, but that didn’t keep Sadie from admiring the double staircase and elegantly designed iron railings, the intricate design of the white and gold marble floor, or the black glass chandelier overhead. Every time she discovered something new to praise, she looked up at Carson, which made him chuckle. He’d like to spoil Sadie one day, give her the freedom to decorate his home—the house he wanted to share with her.

  “Carson!” Martin, their host, called from across the space and headed toward them. He extended his hand, appearing genuinely happy to see him. “Welcome. I enjoyed the exhibition today.”

  “Martin.” The one thing Carson hated more than anything in a man was a weak handshake. Not that he expected Martin’s grip to equal his, but…“This is Sadie Reynolds.”

  The host’s indiscreet appreciation for Sadie’s beauty showed on his face. “A pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

  Carson gritted his teeth. Maybe he should have opted out of the party after all. Martin threw extravagant parties all the time, invited the upper echelon—including dignitaries from around the world—and liked to push the legal limits for what qualified as acceptable entertainment.

  A server with a tray full of Champagne stopped in front of them.

  Martin instinctively grabbed three flutes, handing one to Sadie and one to Carson, then quickly downed his own. “The Champagne is made here in Alabama, Sadie. May I call you Sadie?”

  “Of course.” She took another taste and licked her lips. “Delicious,” she praised.

  Martin smiled and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, leading her through the foyer, down three stairs into an oversized den packed with people, past a media room with a theater-sized screen and at least twenty leather recliners, past a music room, then out a back door. Carson followed silently, ready to snatch the billionaire by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake. But he didn’t. Sadie seemed to be enjoying their conversation.

  They ended up inside a party tent in the back garden. Several players, including Ty, fist-bumped Carson as he walked through, eyeing the decedent surroundings. There was a crystal Champagne fountain, oyster bar, sushi bar, fondue station, a buffet-style grill set up with a chef, six-piece orchestra, dance floor, and dozens of tables.

  “What’s your temptation?” Martin asked Sadie.

  “My temptation?”

  “Anything.” He raised a brow.

  “I enjoy a bold Cabernet.”

  “So do I,” Martin offered. “But I meant more exotic—forbidden tastes, perhaps?”

  To Carson’s relief, Sadie reached for his hand. “Chocolate.”

  Martin rumbled with laughter. “She’s very charming, Carson.”

  “And not accustomed to these kinds of parties.”

  “Of course, I understand. But such naïveté cannot last forever, can it?”

  Sadie looked between them, searching for clarification.

  Carson pulled her tight against him and whispered in her ear, “Martin hosts a food club.”

  “Really? How interesting. What sort of cuisine do you feature? I’m not afraid to try something exotic.”

  “Perhaps the best way to understand what I mean is to let you sample something very different.” He excused himself.

  “I believe Martin is a bit eccentric,” she observed as the host walked away.

  Carson was expected to spend time here to help his team. With talk of a new stadium, the franchise would need private donors like Martin to make it happen. This was his third such party at Martin’s home. And just beyond the tent, Carson knew what he’d find: another tent where the real party was—banned food and alcohol, high-dollar call girls, cocaine, and probably a high-stakes poker game. Only VIPs were allowed inside, and an armed guard was posted at the entrance. Carson didn’t want to expose Sadie to it. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, he could barely stomach the idea.

  Martin returned with a silver bowl. “Please,”
he said, offering her a forkful of delicate, black eggs. “Try this.”

  Sadie tasted the caviar. “It bursts with flavor.”

  “Yes,” Martin approved. “It’s Almas, otherwise known as black gold. The most sought-after caviar in the world.”

  Sadie’s eyes went wide as she handed the fork back to Martin. “Thank you for letting me sample it.”

  He waved a server over and then placed the bowl on her tray. Turning back to Carson, he said, “I’ll leave you to get settled. The invitation stands, Carson.”

  Once Martin was out of earshot, Carson blew out a breath. “Jesus Christ,” he complained. “I can only handle small doses of that man.”

  “Why?” she asked. “I rather enjoyed his company.”

  “Sweetheart.” Carson fingered a strand of her soft red hair. “Martin just fed you illegal caviar.”

  Sadie covered her mouth. “W-why didn’t you tell me? That’s horrible.”

  “Don’t get upset. Wild beluga caviar is one of the tamer delicacies he offers.”

  “What are you saying? What else does he eat—elephants? Shark-fin soup? Puppies and kittens?” Her voice raised an octave. “Hasn’t anyone informed the police of his illegal activities?”

  Carson shook his head. “Martin and his cronies are untouchable. Too much money, and every politician within a thousand-mile radius of Mobile considers him an important friend and ally. He has better security than the president.”

  Sadie sighed. “What about Jack?”

  “He doesn’t get involved with these kind of events or fundraising. His sons do. Maybe after you’re done rebranding the team, you can focus on what goes on behind the scenes. How about we forget about Martin and focus on dancing?”

  “Did I hear you correctly? You’re asking me to dance?”

  “Yep.”

  “This is new,” she said, pleasantly surprised.

  “You always wished I was a more enthusiastic dancer.”

  “What changed your mind? Or should I say who?”