Hot Read: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 5)

by Jami Davenport

  “Please tell your brother that you aren’t renting your apartment to Brett Gunnels. Do it for us.” Richard folded his napkin into a neat little triangle and stood, looking down at her.

  Estie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out, Richard. Maybe we’re both fooling ourselves.”

  “Of course it is. I love you.”

  “I need more time to think.”

  “You’ve had nine years. How much more time do you need?” Richard tugged on his collar, a sure sign he was getting exasperated.

  “We’ve been friends for nine years. We’ve only been a couple for a short time and engaged for a few months.”

  “I’m going golfing.” Richard spun on his heel and stalked out of the café, leaving her with the bill.

  Relieved, she watched him go. A smart fiancée would tell Brett to find another place to live. But that kiss from Brett. Oh, sweet lord, that kiss. The one that catapulted her heart right out of her chest. She’d never realized a kiss could be that powerful. Richard’s kisses were sterile, well-practiced, and pleasant, but not knock-your-panties-off awesome.

  Not like Brett’s.

  Once back home, Estie picked up the place, took the dogs for a walk, and sat down to do hours of torturous financial work on her laptop. The figures swam in front of her eyes until her head hurt. Yesterday, she’d found some minor discrepancies in Tyler’s finances and could not figure out where the error was. Usually, she found this job challenging and rewarding, but lately she found it frustrating, just like she found Richard frustrating.

  Estie couldn’t dispute that Tyler’s financial portfolio had grown in leaps and bounds since she and Richard became partners. Everything was going according to her carefully laid-out plans, her future was in order, her life was in order, or so she told herself. Yet, she couldn’t quell the growing fear that her life was perched on the verge of chaos, especially when she couldn’t keep her imagination at bay and her thoughts kept drifting to a certain sexy quarterback. She needed a dose of common sense and a gallon of practical advice from a friend who wouldn’t mince words.

  She left a voicemail on Sylvia’s phone and waited—none too patiently. A few hours later, Sylvia returned her call. By the time Sylvia called, Estie had folded and refolded her towels, arranged her pantry, and swept the hardwood floors.

  “Estie, what’s up? You sounded pretty upset on your message. Is the mama’s boy giving you shit about joining the country club’s women’s guild again?” Leave it to Sylvia to get right down to the nitty-gritty, not bothering with all those social niceties. But then, a woman didn’t have to cultivate any social skills when she spent her days in communication with animals.

  “Things are different.” Estie plopped into a chair and propped her feet on the coffee table. Immediately, Spock and Jim vied for a spot on her lap.

  “How different?”

  Estie squirmed and explained about Brett moving in and Richard’s reaction. “Richard isn’t happy about Brett moving into my basement.”

  “Richard? Jealous? I didn’t know he had it in his selfish body.”

  “He’s concerned about how it’ll look to his cronies.”

  “Oh, yeah, that,” Sylvia said.

  “Richard is a great guy. He just has his quirks.”

  “You don’t need to convince me, you need to convince yourself. I already have an opinion, and I’m keeping it.”

  “It gets worse.” Estie hesitated then plunged into the brink. “Brett kissed me, and I liked it.”

  “That’s it? Just a kiss?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “You sure you didn’t take Brett Gunnels for a test drive or two or three?”

  “Of course not.” Estie’s laugh rang hollow like an echo in an empty football stadium. “I shouldn’t have done it. Maybe it’d be best if I got married as soon as possible.” Like that would stop her erotic fantasies about another man.

  “Estie, you’re going to have to make that decision. Not me. Not Richard. Not Brett. And definitely not your family. Life is not something that follows a plan, no matter how hard you try to force it. Life is chaotic and messy and has a way of turning the best-laid plans upside down.” Sylvia paused. “Oh, gotta go. I have to check on a patient.” She cut off the call abruptly.

  Estie set the two cats on the floor and walked to the window, staring into the darkness of the winter night. Rain battered the windowpanes while the wind howled outside. Jim wrapped his paws around her leg and hung on, demanding attention.

  With a sigh, she extracted his claws from her leg and went back to work, pushing herself to find out why Tyler’s accounts didn’t balance correctly and where the missing money might be.

  She’d been so heads-down into her work that she didn’t notice how late it was until she heard a car in her driveway. Marilyn and Dozer started barking. Spock glanced up from his viewpoint on the back of the couch and looked out the window, while Jim stretched lazily and went back to sleep.

  Estie walked to the door, stiff from all the time she’d spent in the chair and frustrated at her lack of progress. Brett walked up her sidewalk with Risky slinking at his side, and she forgot all about her frustrations with her day job. The heaviness in her heart lifted like fog lifting off Puget Sound on a warm summer day.

  She opened the door with a huge smile she couldn’t help. A tentative smile crossed his face, almost as if he’d expected her to send him packing.

  She should, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t physically force herself to say those words. Risky crawled the last few feet on his stomach then rolled over onto his back. Focusing on the dog, she bent down and scratched his belly.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” Brett sounded adorably apologetic.

  Estie straightened, and Risky Velcroed himself to her leg. She kept a comforting hand on his head. “It’s no bother.”

  “I apologize for my behavior on Christmas. I was out of line.” He stared down at his hands as he wrung them and shifted from one foot to the other.

  “I’m as responsible as you are, and I apologize too.” She didn’t want an apology; she really wanted a big, sloppy, deep, wet kiss. “How did you get away from my brother, the slave driver?”

  “We’re taking a dinner break. Lavender insisted he meet her for dinner. She’s feeling neglected, and it is Friday night.” Brett shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I thought maybe I should take a look at your apartment.”

  Estie nodded, mentally shaking herself back to the moment. “Oh, yes, of course. It’s really pretty nice. This place was a bank repo, and the couple was in the middle of doing a major remodel when they ran out of money. There’s still some work to be done downstairs, but nothing major.”

  “I’m pretty handy. I can help with that.” His nice smile warmed her heart and several other places.

  “I can’t ask you to do work and pay rent.”

  “You can if you’re watching my animals during the day. Risky loves you, and Bongo needs the company.”

  Estie nodded. She wouldn’t kid herself. Living alone in this big house surrounded by woods with no neighbors in sight did scare her at times. No one would hear her if she screamed, nor would they notice if something was amiss. Derek and Rachel tried to keep an eye on her, but their house was tacked up on the hillside and partially hidden in the trees. It’d be a relief to have a man downstairs on those scary, dark winter nights.

  Who was she kidding? Instead of being scared of intruders, she was more afraid of herself and her insane attraction to this man.

  Estie switched on the outside lights and grabbed a jacket and a key hanging on a small rack by the door. “We’ll go in from the outside entrance. It also has an entrance from inside.” She led Brett down a set of stone stairs to a country-style door with a window in the top half. Unlocking the door, she flicked on the lights. He followed her inside.

  “Wow, this is pretty nice. And bigger than I expected.” Brett glanced around the
main living area, which consisted of a U-shaped kitchen, dining area, and large living area with a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Two sets of sliding glass doors opened onto a patio that ran the length of the bottom floor, while above was her deck. Of course, the place was immaculate. Estie saw to that, even though she didn’t use the apartment.

  She showed Brett the bathroom and two large bedrooms, along with a laundry room. Circling back to the living room, she turned to him. “What do you think? Will this work for you?”

  “It’s perfect. Really perfect.”

  “That door goes upstairs. It has a lock on it from this side, so you’ll have total privacy.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “Looks like Risky approves.” Estie smiled as the dog curled next to the fireplace as if hoping for some heat.

  “I hope this is okay with you. Tyler can be a pushy bastard.” Their gazes met, and Estie had to smile, he was just so damn gorgeous in a ruggedly handsome way.

  “Try growing up with him.”

  “No thanks.” Brett smiled at her.

  “Have you eaten yet, since this is your dinner hour?”

  “No, uh, not yet.”

  “I was just about to make something. Why don’t you stick around?” Part of her wanted those words back, but the rest of her did a cheer for the home team.

  Brett hesitated then nodded. “Yeah, okay, I can do that for a short while.”

  Several minutes later they sat across the small dining table from each other, eating stir-fried shrimp. Estie was a pretty good cook, and judging by how Brett went back for seconds and heaped his plate, he agreed.

  “Big game this weekend, huh?”

  Brett nodded slowly, a determined gleam in his eyes, similar to the one she’d seen in Tyler’s on several occasions. “We’ve got this. I’m feeling damn good about it.” The intensity of his gaze made a believer out of her, not that she hadn’t already been one.

  “You win the division and get a bye if the Rams lose.”

  “Yeah, that’d be the best-case scenario, and we’d get the first playoff game at home. We need that win.”

  “You’ll get it. I have faith in you.” Estie spoke with total confidence.

  “That means a lot to me.” He ducked his head as if embarrassed by his admission.

  “Tyler’s been singing your praises. He says you’re pretty fast on your feet, have a great football mind, and a strong arm with a quick release.”

  “Tyler told you all that?” Brett shook his head in what appeared to be total, absolute disbelief.

  “Well, some of it. The rest I’ve observed for myself.”

  “Thank you.” His slow, sexy smile curled around her heart like a cat curled in front of a warm fire on a cold day.

  “Brett, you’re doing a great job under rough circumstances. Those guys lost Tyler—a strong personality if there ever was one. Tyler gave them direction, someone to believe in. He lifted them up and carried them on his broad back. You’re that guy too.” Impulsively, she grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, loving the feel of his big hands in hers, the way his fingers wrapped around her hands, how strong and competent they felt.

  Brett nodded slowly, his gaze flicking briefly to their entwined fingers and then back to her face.

  “I believe in you. This is your time, and you’re going to go out there and fight for that win because that’s who you are.” She squeezed his hands, and he squeezed back.

  He nodded slowly, a confident smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “I will.”

  Estie leaned forward, determination in her voice, and she held on tighter. “I know you will.”

  For a long time, he stared at their hands and said nothing, as if absorbing her words, which to her was unusual. Her siblings and Richard never really listened to what she had to say. They were too busy leading her where they wanted her to go.

  Finally, Brett glanced at his watch and gently pulled his hands from hers. “I’d better be going. Thanks for dinner.”

  Estie followed him to the door. She put her hand on his arm, wanting to instill confidence in him, to try to help him, and most of all, she couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. On impulse she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be there rooting for you.”

  Brett nodded, his pale-blue eyes searching hers, as if memorizing every contour of her face.

  “Thanks.” He smiled one of those half-sad, half-happy smiles that’d won her heart that first night. With Risky on his heels, he walked to his car.

  Estie shut the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment. She’d fallen for this guy and fallen so hard she was afraid she might never quite recover. She’d promised her future to another man, a man who adored her, a man who’d earned her loyalty, her love, and her trust.

  And she’d honor that.

  She had to. It was all part of her grand plan, and Brett was not part of that plan.

  Game day.

  The biggest game of Brett’s career to date, and if they won this game, the next one would be the biggest.

  Brett walked into the locker room and sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He focused his gaze on his Number Ten jersey, folded his hands in front of him, and sucked in deep, calming breaths, only they didn’t calm. Not in the fucking least.

  His navy and gold Steelheads jersey hung in the locker, attesting to his drive and ambition to get this far despite all the odds.

  Sensing he needed time to get in the zone, his teammates stayed away from him. Even Harris avoided him and stood in the corner talking quietly to Derek. Brett ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes, trying to shut out Bruiser’s loud music, Zach’s booming voice, and the laughter from the rookies tossing a football around the room.

  He felt eyes on him and glanced over one shoulder. Tomcat Monroe, the Steelheads’ Pro Bowl defensive end, stared at him but didn’t say a word. Brett went back to his pregame routine, ignoring the big guy. Tomcat only spoke when he was good and ready to speak. If he had something to say, he’d say it.

  And he did. Eventually. Tomcat leaned in close and kept his voice down. “You know pretty much every damn one of us plays this game not for the money but for the ring. I don’t have a ring. Neither does Murphy. I’m fine retiring without one. Murphy came back this year to win one. We were on track until Harris tore an ACL. Hell, we were in the driver’s seat to win the division and have home-field advantage throughout the playoffs. I don’t have to tell you how fucking big a deal that is.”

  “I’m fully aware of how big that is.” Brett stiffened and dug his fingernails into his palms. “Your point?”

  “Murphy wants that goddamned ring, and he deserves it.”

  “I know,” Brett answered quietly.

  “How many rings do you have, Gun?”

  “Two.” Brett mouthed the word, unable to say it out loud. He’d won two rings and never stepped on the field once during a playoff game, while Murphy had started in every game of his career and never won a ring. Where was the justice in that?

  “Two, huh?” Tomcat stared down at him and leaned forward. His dark eyes narrowed to slits. Brett didn’t move a muscle, except for the one twitching in his left jaw.

  “Yeah. I have two fucking rings.” Brett stood and lifted his chin, defiance in his stance. The defensive end was challenging him, and Brett never backed down from a fight.

  Tomcat studied him more closely then nodded. “How would you like to add a third to that collection?” A smile twitched at the corners of Tomcat’s mouth, and Brett got the feeling he’d passed some kind of invisible test.

  “I’m planning on it.”

  “So are we. All of us.” Tomcat swept his arms around the half-empty locker room. Tomcat’s big beefy hands rested on equally beefy hips as he studied the team’s starting quarterback with a critical eye.

  “And no one is going to stop this team. No one.” Brett met Tomcat’s steely gaze with one of his own.

  An hour later, Brett ran th
rough his pregame warm-ups while the butterflies in his stomach did their own calisthenics. He glanced up into the stands where he knew Lavender usually sat with her girlfriends and sometimes Tyler’s sisters. They were there. All of them. His eyes met Estie’s, and his heart did a little bump-bump in his chest. She gave him the thumbs-up and graced him with a broad smile. Brett smiled back.

  Her smile said it all. She believed in him, and somehow that made all the difference in the world. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. She had such absolute confidence in his abilities that it bolstered his own belief in himself.

  He could do this. He could win this game of all games—the defining moment in his career. St. Louis was good but not outstanding. On a really good day, they could beat a top team. Brett’s job was to see to it that St. Louis didn’t have a good day and the Steelheads did.

  His team.

  They were his team. For the next few hours or several weeks down the road, he was going to lead these men.

  Brett called forth every ounce of military training, every battle he’d ever seen action in. This was just football, not life or death. He’d handled life or death as if it were nothing. He could handle this. Yeah, he could do it.

  He felt good. Damn fucking good. Invincible good.

  Grabbing his helmet, he waited on the sidelines, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to prove to the world that it wasn’t the size of the guy but the size of his heart.

  Bruiser took his place on the field and ran the kickoff back to the Steelheads’ forty-five. Excellent field position.

  Harris grabbed his arm. “Watch out for the right defensive end. He’s going to come after you on the first few plays, hit you hard, and try to fuck with your concentration. Step back in the pocket and get rid of the ball fast. Make a statement. Let the fuckers know we can run and throw against them.”

  Brett nodded and strapped on his helmet. HughJack slapped his back. Zach nodded at him, looking as if he were about to throw up. With the exception of Brett, no one on this team wanted this win as badly as Murphy.