Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  Wheeling around the parking lot, he couldn’t find a spot. The place was a real zoo. The ER parking was packed with cars but he didn’t care. He parked on the median under the bright red Emergency Room sign. Walking into the waiting area, a lump formed in his throat as he waited in line at the information desk, only eclipsed by a razor-sharp desperation clawing up his spine.

  Under the glaring white lights and loud noises in the crowded waiting room, hospital staff moved quickly and spoke in rapid-fire medical jargon. People huddled together, their eyes filled with worry; there were crying children, and then a pair of police officers came inside with their radios clicking and buzzing. The constant whoosh of the automatic doors and the ringing of cellphones had the cords in his neck tighten more and more with each second that ticked by. Brett refocused his attention on the front desk.

  He kept telling himself she was going to be fine and closed his eyes. Please, God.

  “Sir?” a woman’s voice inquired.

  His eyes flew open and he stepped forward, placing his hands on the desk. “Cory McLemore. She was just brought in.”

  The woman rapidly typed at a keyboard, then nodded and looked back up at him. “She’s being treated by the triage team right now.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “Just as soon as the team is through with their initial exam, visitors are generally permitted inside for a couple of minutes. If you have a seat in the waiting area, we’ll let you know. What’s your name?”

  “Brett Gold.” Looking at the woman, he would have argued, except she must have seen something in his expression.

  She whispered, “Please. Ms. McLemore is in excellent hands. I promise, as soon as the exam is over, I’ll come find you.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled. Before he could sit down, another woman with a clipboard spoke to him. “Pardon me, I understand you’re here for Ms. McLemore. Are you next of kin?”

  “Yes. I’m her fiancé.” He hadn’t said it aloud before and now it solidified, took root within him.

  “I’m from hospital registration. We’ll need some information. It will only take a few minutes. Mr.…?”

  “Sure. Mr. Gold.” He looked over to the triage area through an open doorway, but inside there were curtained areas and he couldn’t see Cory. Only doctors and nurses moving within, rapidly conversing; at one point a crying woman appeared, covered in blood.

  He returned to the information desk. “Excuse me, I’ll be in registration. Can you please contact me there when the doctor is through?” He handed the woman his card.

  He followed the other hospital worker into a small, cramped office, then produced Cory’s insurance card and license, and answered what questions he could. He still needed to call her parents and kept glancing toward the doorway, a short way down from the waiting area, to see if anyone had come out and called his name. When Brett was thanked for his help, he nodded and limped back to the waiting room. Seated on a chair directly across from the information desk, he took out Cory’s cellphone, preparing to call her folks. Scrolling down her contacts, he heard his name called and burst up from the chair, slipping her phone into his pocket.

  Within the emergency triage area, he was ushered to one of the curtained off sections. Cory’s name was written on the whiteboard where she was being treated. He heard her voice weakly answering questions. He half sprinted with a limp through the doorway, searching her face, and a jolt of relief detonated inside him.

  Finally, he let go of the breath he’d been holding back. “Baby,” he said, moving toward her. A nurse who was removing a blood pressure cuff from her arm, looked up as he hobbled around the bedside. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, hugging Cory gently while trying to read the nurse’s expression.

  “After some rest she should be fit as a fiddle.” The nurse stopped and adjusted the sheet, then continued speaking. “The doctor will be back. We’re heading for an MRI and we’ll know more. Looks like a concussion from her fall.”

  “Jesus,” he said, swinging his gaze back to Cory’ face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t bring you to the emergency room right away.”

  She smiled up at him, running her fingers over his arm. “I was the one who refused. It’s not your fault.”

  The nurse lifted the bedrail. “Excuse us. I’ll let you know when she returns from the MRI.”

  He bent down, staring into her eyes. “I love you so much.”

  “I know.” Cory nodded. “And I love you.”

  “I’ll be right outside waiting.”

  Back in the waiting room, he dialed the number to her dad’s cellphone.

  “Hello?” her father’s gruff voice sounded loud in Brett’s ear.

  “Wade?” he confirmed, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “Yes. But who is this? Brett?” Wade asked.

  ~~~

  Back at Cory’s apartment, he entered the bedroom bringing her a cup of tea. “Your parents just arrived at the airport.”

  “How do you know?” Cory asked.

  “They phoned me.” He set the tray down on the side of her bed. A profusion of colors from the flowers arrangements that had arrived filled the room. Her head didn’t hurt nearly as much and the feeling of wanting to hurl her insides up like a sea cucumber had lessened. Not completely, but enough to stay in bed. She stretched out her arm and laid her hand over his. Squeezing, she jerked a tiny bit when his gaze met hers.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, concern flashing in his green eyes.

  “Much. What about you? How is your ankle? You haven’t had much sleep.”

  “I was built for these types of events. I’m stronger than I look.” Brett’s lips curved upward and she felt her heartbeat pick up.”

  A knock on the door sounded and they both glanced toward the front room. “Probably another florist,” he said. “Prepare yourself.”

  “People have been really kind.” Most of the arrangements were from family and friends, but a few came from strangers which made her feel odd. The phone calls, and now the flowers.

  The familiar voice of Dr. Peterson filled her apartment. “I won’t overstay my welcome.”

  Brett filled the doorway to her bedroom and around his shoulder peeked her advisor. “There you are,” Dr. Peterson said.

  Cory smiled, and propped herself up. “Thank you for coming. Please, sit down.” Brett had pulled up a chair next to the bed.

  “Don’t try to get up. You need to rest.” Dr. Peterson unfurled her scarf. “I would have come sooner. I tried to call Sunday. I was watching and couldn’t believe it. The whole game and then the press coverage. What a way to get engaged! I bet you’ve gotten offers.”

  “Offers?” she asked.

  “Perfect neck of the woods for a movie deal. Right on Hollywood’s doorstep. Wouldn’t be the first UCLA undergrad to have stolen from me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled. “Would you like something to drink? Water or coffee?”

  “A cup of coffee sounds great. Black.” Dr. Peterson said, her eyes widening as Brett rose and went to stand by the bedside.

  “Cory, do you want anything?” He gently pulled up the bedcover, fluffed her pillow and arranged her so that she could somewhat sit up. “Better?” he asked.

  She ran her hand down his arm. “So much. Thanks.”

  “Be right back with a cup.” Brett nodded to Dr. Peterson.

  When he left, Dr. Peterson gushed, “I can’t believe Brett Gold is getting me coffee.”

  “He does make a good cup,” Cory agreed.

  “Oh, before I forget. Here.” Dr. Peterson removed an envelope from her jacket.

  “What is it?” She glanced at the letterhead and frowned. “Ryder Bennett.”

  “All I have to say is, thanks, and whatever you did, it worked. How did you arrange a meeting, and on such short notice?”

  “I didn’t…” Cory glanced down and fumbled with the quilt.

  “The whole department
is floored about the endowment.”

  She raised her gaze to Dr. Peterson, uncertain how or if she should mention their benefactor’s less than professional interest. “You and Dr. Carathers did all the work.”

  “You’re being modest. This should help.” Dr. Peterson laid the envelope next to Cory on the bed. “Go on. I can’t wait to see your face.”

  Hesitantly, Cory opened the envelope. Furrowing her brow, she removed the heavy stock paper and then unfolded the letter to stare at the embossed emblem at the top of the page. On expensive linen stationery, a letter congratulated her on being selected for a Fulton scholarship for the upcoming summer. “This doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t turn in my application and this award happened in days.”

  “You may not have, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mention it to Mr. Bennett. Students can be nominated as well.”

  “I can’t accept.” She stopped reading and folded the paper.

  “Cory, this isn’t simply an internship. It’s an endowment. Twenty-eight million dollars for our department alone. Do you understand how immense this is?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ryder must have liked whatever you discussed. He called me and said he was impressed by you and had never found himself in the position of helping someone on the threshold of a career. He has the power to snap his fingers and things happen. Really good things.” Dr. Peterson beamed with a wide grin.

  Cory’s mouth turned dry. “What else did he say?”

  “That’s all he said. Short and sweet.” Dr. Peterson pushed up her glasses. “Well, he did mention something odd. Said something about being willing to do anything to make this work. I thought you might have said something about the language barrier. I can assure you, you’d have your own personal translator assigned. It’s all laid out and, of course, UCLA won’t ever be able to thank you enough. What did you discuss with him?”

  Cory dropped the envelope on the bed, remembering seeing the pieces of Ryder’s business card in the toilet when she returned to her apartment. Three pieces, and she’d recognized the company logo along with part of his name floating in the toilet. She didn’t need much to put that puzzle together. When she asked Brett, he came clean. Said he’d torn up the card and if he so much as saw Bennett, he’d make him understand the proper way to treat a lady. The initial shock and anger of his going through her wallet subsided. Then, a glowing warmth spread deep inside her from Brett’s desire to right a wrong he’d perceived. That Texan macho mentality she understood oh-so-well.

  “Nothing. And can we discuss this later?” She opened the nightstand and shoved the letter and envelope inside. “Mr. Bennett wasn’t…didn’t seem interested in me insofar as the type of marketing career I have in mind, and I’m shocked by his offer.”

  Dr. Peterson glanced over at the nightstand drawer. “Did he say something to upset you?”

  She stared back at her advisor. “He might have. But it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

  “Cory,” Dr. Peterson lowered her voice. “Think carefully before you toss aside this offer. Many times, in business and in life, you just need to set the stage. Once you have your ducks in a row, you can go forward. A woman in business is constantly a target, but this could be a good experience in learning how to take lemons and you know…make a lemon spritzer. Don’t shut the door because he made a mistake. You’re in the catbird seat. Perfect place to be. I hope you understand some people jockey to make this type of position happen.”

  “I must be dense. None of this makes sense.”

  “Obviously, Ryder Bennett wants to form a partnership with UCLA and is trying to make up for the toes he stepped on…namely, yours. Not the first time I’ve seen this gambit.”

  “So you think I should just accept his offer and forget about what he said?”

  “Forgive. But never forget. And that’s how a good business woman operates. This is the big leagues. Your choice.”

  Cory twisted the covers in her hands. “I…I’ll think about it.”

  Brett came back in with a mug of coffee. “Here you go.”

  Dr. Peterson looked up at him. “Thanks.” She took a sip of the steaming coffee and smiled. “Perfect.”

  Cory looked over at Brett. She wasn’t about to hold anything back from him. This was her fiancé and future husband, and she’d be darned if she would start out with any more secrets. Opening her nightstand drawer, she took out the letter and held it out to him.

  “Dr. Peterson just came by to deliver some interesting news about an endowment. From Ryder Bennett.”

  Brett and Dr. Peterson did a double take at her, then Brett shifted his attention briefly to Dr. Peterson.

  “Are you serious?” Brett asked. His brow lifted as he waited for a response.

  “Oh, brother,” Dr. Peterson said. “Guess this is a family discussion. I should have known. Do you think…?” Cory watched Dr. Peterson reach into her bag and bring out a Sports News magazine. She flipped to a section where a sticky note was posted. “Can I have your autograph? I don’t know if I’ll have the chance again.”

  Cory shook her head. “Don’t say that. Of course you will.”

  “Then why do I feel as though I’ve just delivered the Golden Calf to the wrong team?”

  “Don’t. From where I come from, it’s all about being transparent. Isn’t that the correct political term?” Cory asked. She motioned between herself and Brett. “It’s important to keep things out in the open.”

  “Looks like a tremendous offer,” Brett said after reading the letter. He kept his face placid, but that expression he wore didn’t fool her. They’d spoken, and she knew this news had to affect him. With his experience in front of the media, he’d learned to give good face. Jesus, she wondered if she’d ever have the ability to reel it all in.

  “We’ll talk later,” she said, and patted the side of the bed. “Come take a rest.”

  “I’d better be going,” Dr. Peterson said.

  “Not because of this,” Cory responded, sitting up.

  “Nope. Class. Week before finals is hectic. I wanted to stop by before the craziness commenced.” Her advisor stood. “And not to worry. I sent out a note to your professors. Expect to receive instructions from their TA’s about your coursework.”

  “I plan on returning before the end of the week,” she glanced up quickly to catch a scowl forming on Brett’s handsome face. “It’s true. Don’t try and browbeat me on that one, Mr. Gold.”

  Dr. Peterson laughed and patted her arm. “Yeah. I’d like to stay and see the upcoming clash of the Titans about to take place, but I’ll be late.”

  Once she and Brett were alone, he came and laid down on the bed next to her. “I don’t want you to throw your future away.” He flung his arm over her waist and partially lowered his shoulder over her torso, the heavy weight of his body familiar and comforting. “Baby, we can make whatever you want to do work.”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know that being some international marketing super star is what I even want.” She ran her fingers over his buzzed scalp, her heart tripping behind her ribs as she traced the outline of his lips.

  “This is your call,” he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips.

  Brett had national sports star status and for sure, the NFL notoriety followed. For someone with small-town values, he’d traveled the world and was a mixture of contrasting facets.

  “You’re such a puzzle,” she sighed. She suspected it was why she found him so incredibly complex and fascinating, at times exasperating, and impossible to forget. From the moment she’d met him, his unique dynamo appeal pierced her to the core. “Is the idea of me working in Europe appealing to you?”

  “Cory, this isn’t about me,” he exclaimed, raising his head. He held her gaze, intense green staring back at her. “I want you to be happy. No lie. If Ryder Bennett can’t get a grip, I’d be the first to say walk away.”

/>   “So you’ve changed your tune?” She felt her eyes widen.

  He shook his head. “Never. We all get that some people have issues respecting lines and boundaries. I’m not so stupid as to think he doesn’t realize that you’re talented. If Bennett is willing to treat you professionally, then you have to decide the next step. Do I want you working with some rich dude with ulterior motives, hell no.”

  “Unlike you.” She gazed at him, unblinking, and reached out to stroke her hand down his face.

  “Sugar, we’ve gone past all that. I’m going to make an honest woman out of you. Now, lie down.” Chuckling, Brett spread his large hands over her hips and gently pulled her lower down on the mattress. “Your life has room for only one dude with ulterior motives.”

  She pressed back against the pillows, her toes curling from the way his hands felt on her body. “Brett, I don’t know that going to Paris is something I want.”

  “No one said you had to decide right this second. The ball is in your court. Now, hold still while I take care of you the way I’ve been dying to ever since yesterday.”

  His fingers trailed down her body, slipping inside the front of her pajama bottoms and inside her panties. She arched upward and he kept his other hand on her hips. “Not so fast. Nice. And easy. Just an appetizer for when you’re feeling better.”

  God, she wanted him. Pounding headache and all. Between her legs pulsed as her muscles clenched. “Brett, please. Get naked with me. Just the tip. Please.”

  He groaned, “Baby, no.”

  She glanced down at the bulge in his pants, straining his zipper. If she pulled his polo shirt upward, she bet the head of his cock would be right there, grazing his waistband. She’d gotten him to this point before, and now when he was touching her in all the rights ways, she hungered for him to fill her.

  “Brett, just one swipe and that’s it. I promise.”