The wide receiver smiled as he lifted with his legs.
“Why’s he leaving the Demons?” Griff asked.
“Their star quarterback, Mark Davis, broke his leg too, in several places. He’s out indefinitely. Brennan doesn’t want to play with their back-up. He wants to be on a winning team.”
“We’ll cream ’em this year,” Griff added.
“We could use an easy win. Never underestimate the other team. Their coach could bring in a different quarterback, or the backup guy might be good.”
Back in the locker room, the five men hit the showers.
As Buddy lathered up, Bull’s voice rang out over the steady beat of the water. “Got any dick left, Carruthers? Or did you wear it down bangin’ your bride?”
“I’ve still got more dick than you’ll ever have, Brodsky.”
A few guffaws rumbled around. Buddy grinned. Coach Bass chuckled along with his men. Off season, he’d shower with the team, foregoing the privacy of the senior staff bathroom.
“Hey, Coach, you’re next!” It was Trunk Mahoney.
“Not long now.”
“Gettin’ cold feet?” Griff called.
“Are you kidding?”
“Ms. Parker is hot,” Buddy put in.
“Can we call her Mrs. Coach?” Bull asked.
“As long as you don’t ask me about my dick.”
The guys cracked up.
Buddy took extra care combing his hair. Ever since he’d married, the wide receiver had paid more attention to how he looked. Climbing into bed with a rock star every night made him aware of his appearance. Even his language was cleaner. He’d never lived with a woman before, except his mother.
Sometimes, he’d open Emmy’s dresser drawer simply to touch her lingerie. Rubbing the fine silk fabric between his fingers turned him on, reminding him of the soft, suppleness of her skin, or the pleasure he derived from removing such elegant underthings from her delicious body. The colors fascinated him. Delicate pinks, bright turquoise, and gauzy beige teddies, panties, and nighties seduced him night after night.
He drove home, turning his expensive car into the driveway. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, and the air smelled of a cold rain coming. His mouth watered as he anticipated a bowl of Gert’s beef stew, chili, or homemade soup.
Buddy took the steps two at a time. He opened the door to soft music from Emmy’s guitar. She started a song, then stopped, then started again. As the winterish wind penetrated the warmth of the house, she ceased playing and glanced up. She flashed him a brilliant smile.
“Hi, baby. New song?” He yanked his sweatshirt off over his head.
“Just for you.”
“Me? Really?”
“Yeah.” She pushed to her feet and strolled over to him. He took her in his arms for a passionate kiss. “You’re amazing, Buddy. You’re the Energizer Bunny. You never wear out.”
He chuckled then headed for the kitchen. He popped a beer before going to the stove. “What’d Gert cook up tonight? Smells great.”
“Lamb stew. I made it. Gert was home sick today. I got the recipe from Lauren.”
“You made this? Smells awesome.” He took a swig from the bottle.
Emmy eased down into a chair.
“Can I get you a brew?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Not drinking?”
“Taking a break.”
“Geez. I hate to drink alone. Come on, baby.” He watched her get up.
She ran her hand over her flat belly. “Get used to it.”
“What do you mean? You’re not leaving me, are you?” Sweat gathered on his brow.
“Of course not, baby. Don’t be silly.”
He closed his fingers around her upper arms. “Then what?”
Emmy leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I’m pregnant.”
“No shit?” He felt his eyes get as wide as saucers.
Emmy laughed. “No shit.”
Chapter Eleven
Stormy had relented and spent every night in Devon’s bed. Still unconvinced of his feelings for her, she left her belongings in the guest room. Always have an escape plan. She bounced down to fix breakfast with a smile on her face. Samantha was already preparing coffee.
“You’re up early.”
“With Jo’s wedding in a week and training camp in three, things are crazy at work.”
“You’re in the wedding party?” Stormy took down three mugs.
“At least I don’t have to worry about finding a dress. Where’s Devon? Today’s the weigh in.”
As if on cue, the cornerback appeared at the archway. “You rang?”
“Very funny. The weigh-in’s today. Will you pass?” Samantha wrinkled her brow as she sipped her coffee.
Devon slapped his belly. “Flat as a pancake. I’ve lost twenty-five pounds, thanks to you,” he said, turning to Stormy and bowing. “And to the new trainer, Hank. He’s tough.”
“Excellent. I’m relieved,” Sam admitted.
“Me too. Should be a clear path to starting corner.” He accepted a steaming beverage from his girlfriend.
“Tell me about the wedding,” Stormy said.
Devon made a face. “Do I have to listen to talk about dresses and flowers and all that shit at breakfast?”
“Is your good suit ready?” Samantha asked.
“I’m wearing a tux. Rental’s all set.”
“A tux?” Samantha’s brow furrowed.
“Yeah. I’m standing up for the Coach.”
“You are? Since when?”
“Since, well, I think he asked me. Not sure. Anyway, I’ll be ready.”
“Oh, God. How many on the team think they are standing up for Coach Bass?”
Devon shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Stormy, you set?”
“I’ve got a great dress. Turquoise silk.”
“Perfect. You’ll look great.”
“She’s coming with me,” the cornerback said, leaning back in his chair.
Stormy shot him a smile.
“Of course. I’m seating you with Sly Brodsky,” Sam said.
“Sly? You mean Bull?”
Sam shrugged. “Whatever. You’re going to sit at his table.”
“Do I have to?”
“Don’t whine. Don’t be a baby. Suck it up, brother.”
While the siblings argued back and forth about the wedding and Bullhorn Brodsky, Stormy retrieved the ingredients for Dev’s high protein, low fat breakfast. As she was setting up the egg poacher, the doorbell rang.
“Crap,” the footballer said. “Sam, could you get it?”
His sister refastened her robe and padded out of the room.
“Mr. Drake?” an official-sounding voice came from the archway. A policeman in full uniform stood in the doorway.
Devon jumped up. “That’s me. Something wrong?”
“Just a follow-up on your request.”
“Wait a sec. Let me get some pants.” Devon wore only his boxers.
The officer held up his hand. “No rush.”
Samantha offered the man a cup of coffee, but he declined. He stepped inside and removed his hat.
Devon raced upstairs and back in record time. “Okay. I’m decent. What’s up?”
“Your request regarding Ellis Mason?”
“Ellis?” All three spoke in unison.
“A.K.A. Edgy.”
“Oh, right.”
“We have contacted Mr. Mason. Had a talk with him. We spoke to his family. He’ll be returning to Oak Bend to stay with them a while after he completes a rehab program near there.”
Stormy’s eyes grew wide.
The policeman turned to face the young women. “Which one of you’s Stormy Gregory?”
“That’s me,” she said, rising.
“I’ve informed the police in Bolton too. They’re tearing up the restraining order. You should be safe now.”
“Why did you do this?”
“Mr. Drake called us. We
like to help out our athletes whenever we can. It was a simple request. Mr. Mason didn’t object, too much.” The man in blue chuckled. “He’ll be on his way by the weekend.”
Tears choked Stormy’s throat. She managed to croak out “thank you” to the officer. He put his hat back on and headed for the exit. Stormy watched as Devon bid the man farewell and closed the front door. He returned to the kitchen.
“Well. That’s that.” He picked up his mug and plopped back down in his seat. “Weren’t you working on some eggs?”
Stormy burst into tears. She kissed Devon on the cheek. In a shaky voice, she replied to his question, “Coming right up.” She busied herself on the counter then at the stove.
Devon stole up behind her, snaking one arm around her waist from behind. “I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said.
She smiled as she spread shredded cheese on the cooking eggs.
* * * *
Across town, Coach Bass’ house
Jo Parker paced in front of the picture window facing the beach. The ocean was a cold, deep blue. Angry waves beat against the shore, spewing white spray into the air. Although it was June, the water was freezing. It wouldn’t be warm enough for swimming for another month or so. She stared at the landscape as her heartbeat increased. One week ’til my wedding.
Lost in thought about all the details that remained to be ironed out, she jumped when Coach Bass touched her shoulder.
“Are you all right? You tossed a lot last night.”
“I didn’t sleep well. I’m okay. Just nerves.”
His brow knitted. “Not getting cold feet are you?”
“About you? No. About the wedding? Hell yes. There are so many things left to do. So many things that can go wrong.” She began to pace again, ticking off items to be handled on the fingers of her left hand.
Pete placed his hands on her shoulders. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”
She followed his instructions.
“Sweetheart, the only thing that matters is that we get married. That’s it. If everything else goes to hell, so what?”
“So what?” Her voice rose an octave. “This isn’t just a wedding. It’s an event. The press will be there.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who’ll be there. As far as I’m concerned, the only important person at this shindig is you. Oh, and the judge.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now, calm yourself. You’re going to have a breakdown at this rate.”
“I’m stressed. I admit it.”
“Come on. Coffee. I’ll make pancakes.” He bundled her into his arms. “As long as we get hitched, I could give a damn about the rest of the world. It’s you and me, honey. That’s all.”
Jo snuggled into his embrace, burying her face in his shirt. She inhaled his intoxicating male scent and rested her palm on his chest. He rubbed the thin, silky material of her short robe between his fingers while running his other hand up and down her back. She sighed as his warmth surrounded her. “I don’t know how I got along without you,” she said.
“I don’t either.” He laughed. “You won’t have to ever again.”
Happiness washed over Jo. Her heart lifted, and her legs were almost weightless. She broke from him and stared into his light brown eyes. He kissed her.
“Didn’t you promise me pancakes?” She grinned.
“Pancakes? Did someone say pancakes? Chocolate chip?” Alyssa, Coach’s daughter, said, charging into the room, wearing a nightgown. She was followed closely by her twin, Alexis.
Pete slipped his arm around Jo’s shoulders. Together they followed the girls into the kitchen. Lexie was pulling down a mixing bowl while Lyssa had opened the fridge.
Coach Bass manned the special griddle he used. He swore the secret to the great taste of his pancakes came from using the appliance, but Jo had a feeling it was the generous dollop of sour cream he added to the batter.
The foursome sat around the table, eating. Lost in her own thoughts, Jo relished the moment of quiet.
“Where’s your dress?” Lyssa said, cutting pancake with her fork.
“How many people? What’s the final count?” Lexi asked.
“What color flowers did you finally pick?” Alyssa wondered.
“I didn’t see our dresses. Where are they?” Alexis added.
“Didn’t you go for a final fitting?” Jo’s voice rose with each word.
They girls shook their heads.
“Oh my God! You have to do that. Right away. Today.”
Pete listened as the women chattered on about the wedding. They discussed every detail. Jo glanced his way from time to time. He wore a silly, happy grin.
“If you give us the seating plan, we’ll meet and greet,” Lyssa said.
“We can escort everyone to where they’re supposed to be,” Lexie added.
“When are your parents coming?”
Alyssa’s question hung in the air like a thick fog.
Pete frowned. “I think they’re out of the country, right, Jo?”
Her heart squeezed. Emotion closed her throat. Don’t overreact. You knew they wouldn’t come. Why the sad act? You don’t want them here, criticizing you, getting in the way. It would be all about them. All about Mom. Who needs that? Still, a girl wants to be given away by her father. “Lyle’s giving me away.”
“Great. We don’t have to worry about your dad getting stranded in an airport,” Lexie said.
Gratitude for the girl’s quick understanding of the situation filled Jo’s heart.
“Bet Tiffany’s jealous.” Lyssa snickered.
“I doubt that.”
“You’ll be tons more beautiful than she ever could.”
“She’s his wife. She’s already won him. Besides, I got the better man.” Jo shot a look at Pete. He colored slightly.
“Damn right,” Lyssa muttered, stuffing a forkful of pancake into her mouth.
* * * *
The fifteenth was a beautiful day. Jo had bunked in with Buddy and Emmy Carruthers the night before her wedding. She awoke with the jitters, until she remembered her parting with Pete the night before.
“Remember, no cold feet. You gotta be there, Jo. Okay? Promise?” His brow wrinkled, and his eyes were two caramel pools of worry.
She had patted his cheek, kissed him, and reassured him. Seeing the Coach so concerned had touched her heart. Yes, he does love me.
With all doubt gone, she approached her wedding with a glad heart. Until her cell rang.
It was the florist checking on the number of tables that needed centerpieces. And the calls kept coming. First Samantha, about the number of chairs to be delivered to the country club. Then the florist again, confirming the number of boutonnieres needed. The twins called with a complaint about the flowers in their bouquets.
Jo soothed, cajoled, persuaded, and finally yelled at the florist, then the caterer, then the company providing chairs. The band leader called to say their backup guitarist broke his wrist. At that point, Jo just put her head down and cried.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay,” Emmy said.
“No music? At a wedding?”
“Let me make a few calls.”
“How can you help?”
“Wouldn’t you like to have a rock star sing at your wedding?”
“Would you?” Jo raised a tear-stained face.
“For you? You bet. Relax. Go take a hot bath. I’ve got some great bath stuff.” Emmy held out her hand and led Jo to the magnificent guest bathroom.
Jo soaked in the tub. Pete’s words swirled around in her head. “As long as we get hitched, I could give a damn about the rest of the world. It’s you and me, honey. That’s all.”
She turned her thoughts to the honeymoon. Pete had reserved the honeymoon suite in the Plaza Hotel in New York City for two nights. Then, they were flying to Paris. He’d refused to tell her what the plans were, but she’d snooped around, peeked at his credit card bill, and did some reconnaissance on the Internet. He’d boo
ked a fabulous suite at Le Parc d’Or hotel. It was a small, exclusive place noted for privacy and excellent service.
She tingled all the way down to her toes at the prospect of being pampered by Pete there. Being alone with him in a luxury, Parisian hotel was the ultimate fantasy. Memories of lovemaking with the experienced man drifted through her body, awakening desire. Would she ever stop wanting him? Would she ever get enough? Maybe in fifty years. She grinned.
When shriveled fingertips forced her out of the bath, she put on a fluffy, terry robe and padded downstairs. Her mouth fell open when she saw the crowd waiting for her.
Samantha, Alyssa, Alexis, Emmy, the florist, the hairdresser, a manicurist, and two musicians holding instruments stood at the bottom of the stairs. Buddy hugged a corner.
“Well, it’s about time,” Sam said, hands on hips.
“We thought you’d drowned,” Lexie put in.
The twins helped Jo get ready. The hair dresser dried her hair and pinned it up into a beautiful do. On pins and needles, trying to man her phone, Jo had her toenails and fingernails polished. Samantha left to check out the venue and make sure everything was running smoothly. The girls packed Jo’s wedding dress into the car.
“In the overnight bag, there on the chair. There’s a velvet bag inside,” Jo instructed.
Alyssa dug out the soft pouch. “This?”
Jo nodded. “Open it.”
The young woman carefully unzipped it. She gently extracted a necklace of dark red stones and matching earrings.
“It was my grandmother’s. Those are garnets she brought from Czechoslovakia. A long time ago,” Jo explained.
“It’s beautiful.”
Jo took a deep breath to control her voice. “When I was twenty, she gave them to me for my wedding day.”
“Awesome,” Alyssa said.
“She died the next year.”
There was silence in the room. Even the hairdresser and manicurist stopped for a moment.
“I loved her very much.” Emotion rose in Jo’s chest.
“Is this something old or something borrowed?” Lexie asked.
“Something old,” the hairdresser put in.
When the hair and nails were finished, Jo put on the jewelry, her lacy underwear, and stockings and shoes. Then, she threw on a robe and got into the twins’ car.
Devon Drake, Cornerback Page 14