One Night with a Quarterback

by Jeanette Murray

  Oh, fuck this. He grabbed his paddle, about to make a bid, when Stephen stood next to him.

  “Two thousand for the beautiful Cassie,” he said, his voice sounding like something out of a Shakespearean play. It brought a few laughs and some sighs from nearby ladies.

  Her eyes widened. It was more than most had opened with, though not an outrageous sum considering where other women’s final tallies had landed.

  Someone from a table across the room bid higher, causing Stephen to leap up and outbid him. Trey raised his own paddle, more casually than Stephen’s bids, and threw his own hat into the ring. A few other players joined in, raising the price higher than anyone else had reached yet.

  Did she want him to win? He would, and he’d pay any price to keep her all to himself. But when he reached for his paddle once more, Stephen’s hand stalled him.

  “Five thousand,” his voice said clearly, trumping the last bid by a good five hundred dollars.

  “Going once . . .” the emcee warned. “Going twice . . .”

  “Don’t,” his friend muttered under his breath.

  “Sold, to Stephen Harrison from our own Bobcats!”

  Applause rang out, and Cassie hurried off the stage before Stephen could escort her back to her table. The moment she sat down, Tabitha leaned across Ken to speak to her. Cassie seemed to ignore the comments or questions, whichever they were. But she didn’t look back at Trey’s table. She knew he was there now, had looked right at him when he’d bid for her. But she didn’t acknowledge him now.

  The whole thing sucked.

  * * *

  By the time dinner was over, the ball of tension and anger in Cassie’s gut had eased from hurricane status to more of a summer shower. She would absolutely not cause a scene and leave early. Stephen had paid good money—a great deal of it—for his dance, and he would get it. It was for a good cause, and she was committed. Her time to back out was before the auction.

  But God, the humiliation . . .

  She recognized one of the men who had bid on her as a local news anchor who did the sports for the local NBC station. The others, she hadn’t recognized, though a few she knew were Bobcats.

  As a waiter removed her plate, she felt a hand touch the top of her shoulder.

  “Hey, Cassie.” Stephen reached out and shook hands with Ken. “Good to see you, sir.”

  “Likewise.” He shook, keeping an eagle eye on his player. “You take good care of her now.”

  The embarrassment continues. “It’s one dance.” And I’m twenty-eight.

  “Exactly. And I won fair and square.” Stephen offered her his elbow, and she followed to the floor. A few other couples had already taken their place, waiting for the music. Ken and Tabitha followed behind. Stephen chose a spot in a corner, where they were still visible, but more secluded.

  “He wanted to.” Stephen’s voice was low. “He was dying to, Cassie.”

  “I know.” From her peripheral vision, he’d seen the way he’d jolted with every bid that wasn’t his. Like he’d been cattle prodded. “Thank you, anyway. I’m sorry it cost you.”

  “Worth it.” He did a little spin, taking her off guard. The guy had moves she wouldn’t have expected a teddy bear of his size to possess. “I had some making up to do in the friend department, anyway. I’ve been sort of an ass, and he’s taking the brunt of it.”

  She thought of Anya, and how over the years they’d had their turns as the ass. “The best friends do that. Take the brunt, I mean. And know when they’re being an ass, you’ll do the same.”

  “Very true.” He spun her around, then dipped her. She laughed, even as a flashbulb went off. Let them take pictures. She was enjoying herself.

  “And besides,” he said again as he directed them into an empty corner of the dance floor, “there wouldn’t be another time to get you alone in the near future.”

  “Do you need me alone for something?” She glanced over his shoulder, found Trey still sitting at his table, watching their every move. Part amusement, she decided, part jealousy.

  “I always need to get a beautiful woman alone. Pride demands it.” His grin faded a little. “But seriously. Trey’s gone over you. You know that, right?”

  She’d hoped, but she hadn’t known. She shook her head.

  “He’s going to kill me if you ever tell him I mentioned it, but this is part two of making amends for my ass-like ways. Be patient. Your situation is . . . unique,” he decided on. “And he isn’t exactly enjoying it. But he’s trying to do what’s right for everyone.”

  “So am I,” she said quietly.

  “He knows that. And eventually things will smooth out. Until then . . .” He dipped her again, leaned down to whisper a joke in her ear. She laughed, and more flashes went off.

  “There. That’ll give them something to blog about.” He winked as the dance ended. Over her shoulder, he said, “Coach.”

  “Harrison.” She turned to find Ken standing behind them, brow raised in question. “Having fun, are we?”

  “Your daughter’s brilliant.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then relinquished her to her father for another dance. “See ya, Cass.”

  She stepped into her father’s arms and waited a moment. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “No.” How far to push, how far to push . . . All the way. “I’m not a teenager, you know. You don’t have to worry about who I’m dating or whatever.”

  “You shouldn’t be dating anyone. We had an agreement.” His eyes were piercing, as if trying to decipher any deceptions via mind reading. “The girls are having a hard enough time with the transition. Wearing inappropriate clothing, snide comments. Tabitha . . .”

  “Yeah. Tabitha.” She struggled to keep the sulkiness out of her voice. “Ever think some of that was typical teenage rebellion and not my doing?”

  “I think . . .” He turned them a quarter turn, smiling over her shoulder at someone else on the dance floor. “I think this isn’t the time or place. I’m asking you to fall in line. For now, just keep above board. No shenanigans. When the reporters realize there’s no blood in the water, they’ll go for the kill elsewhere. So don’t give them anything to hunt.”

  “Understood.” For her sisters, she’d wait. Just for now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I hate this.” Trey resisted slamming his hands into the hotel room wall. It would only hurt, maybe take him out for a week, and there’d be no good explanation for it.

  “Sit down before you hurt yourself.” Josiah’s reasonable tone only added fuel to Trey’s fire.

  “No.” But he sat down anyway. They were alone in Trey’s room in Indianapolis. “I’m just tired.”

  “We’re three weeks into the season. It’s not going to get any easier.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Josiah stood to answer it, letting Stephen in. He walked to the minibar and snagged a beer. When both friends glared, he sighed and traded it for a bottle of water. “What’s wrong with you? The loss sucked, but they’re top-ranked. And you had a good game.”

  “I’m just tired,” Trey repeated in a mumble.

  “Three-week slump?”

  Trey flipped him off.

  “The thanks I get for spinning a pretty girl around the dance floor.” He settled next to Trey on the bed, long legs extended, back against the headboard. “Just hold out to the end of the season.”

  “I should say something now.” Yeah. That was it. Break the tension. “Just meet with Coach, explain the situation, nut up and take whatever he throws at me.” When both Josiah and Stephen stared at him, he shrugged. “What? She’s worth it.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Josiah said slowly. “But, Trey . . .”

  “She’s worth it,” Trey said again. Warming up to the idea, he stood and walked around the small confines of the room. “The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It gives him a few weeks to get used to the idea. We wouldn’t show ourselves in public as a couple f
or awhile, anyway. So he’d have some time, and we could work out the kinks with the family before ever going public.”

  He nearly ran his hip into the dresser holding the TV. Dodging, he went on. “Yeah. Because if he sees that we’ve been making it work for the past few months, with no problems, then he’d have to accept his rules were bullshit.”

  “Oh, yeah. He’d have to,” Josiah muttered.

  Stephen stood in his way, blocking any forward motion. Hands on Trey’s shoulders, Stephen shook him once. “No.”

  “But—”

  “No.” Looking more serious than Trey had seen in a long while, Stephen stepped back and shoved Trey on the bed next to Josiah. “This season is already a slow starter. We’re two and one, and this loss hurt. You’ve got another thirteen games before regular season play is over. Then it’s just another month of playoffs and the big game, and the entire season is over.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of how the schedule works.”

  “You’ve known this chick for less than six months. Suddenly you’re willing to throw yourself in front of a moving bus just to keep your relationship alive? Dude.” Stephen mimed choking him.

  “What does it matter how long I’ve known her?” It shouldn’t, should it? “We’re good together. I like her. I might even l—”

  “Nope. Don’t wanna hear it.” Stephen clapped his hands over his ears like a three-year-old. “It doesn’t matter. The answer is no. Wait the season out. Hell, she might hate dating a player anyway. She might think our schedule sucks and she doesn’t want to deal with it. She might watch from the sidelines and decide this life is definitely not for her. And if you go running to Coach now, throwing your ass out on the line, and she breaks up with you, what was it for?”

  “Honesty?” Trey asked. But his friend’s words started sinking in.

  “Give yourself the season. Let her have time with her family and give you both a chance to make sure this is going to stick before you do anything crazy. If Coach wants to get rid of you after a year of a no-drama relationship, then at least you know it was worth it.”

  “He’s got a point,” Josiah said quietly next to him. “Give yourselves a little more time. Focus on the game, and see how well she fits into your life.”

  “What about how well I fit into hers?” he asked, but it was mostly a joke. They all knew the NFL spouses made sacrifices daily to keep their families happy and whole. If anyone would do adjusting, it would be Cassie. Starting with moving across the country. Away from her mother, who’d been her sole parent for almost three decades.

  He flopped back on the bed and laced his hands behind his head. He needed Cassie to talk this through. They’d be back in Santa Fe tomorrow. “Fine. But if this shit backfires, I’m kicking both your asses.”

  “You can try,” Stephen said helpfully.

  * * *

  “And here’s another one.” Anya, her face taking up most of Cassie’s iPad, held up her phone to the screen.

  Cassie squinted. “Too close.”

  “Oh. Here.” Her friend pulled the phone back a few inches. “See? It’s you, eating at some sushi place with Mellie and your dad. The blog calls your meal . . . the proverbial fatted calf.” Dropping the phone, her friend made a face. “They couldn’t have made that sound any more disgusting.”

  “The whole thing is disgusting,” she said in retort. “I feel sorry for Ken.”

  Anya’s face darkened. “He’s getting slaughtered online. I mean, most of the sports stuff seems to only mention it now if they’re talking about the Bobcats. But still, the word ‘hypocrite’ seems to follow him around these days, in the uninformed blog community.”

  Cassie scooted back on her bed. Arms extended, she stared up at the iPad. “Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t know going in this would be hard.”

  “But still. And by the way, I think we need to discuss your outfits. That shirt you’re wearing?” Anya shook her head. “I’ve sent you better.”

  “It’s one of the Nerd Herd shirts from work. Second work,” she clarified. She’d been updated from “unpaid intern” to “measly minimum wage intern” at work. They all knew she had the chops to make it as a full-time employee, but there were no openings, and she was probably temporary anyway. The temp status was understandable.

  But she would sort of kill to be back with a team—any team—working on projects and making plans for the future. Telecommuting, while paying the bills for now, was not appealing in the long run.

  “At least it’s a good color on you.” She shrugged. “Where’s the boy toy tonight?”

  “He’s with friends. They just got back this afternoon from Indiana. I have a meeting later, so we’re taking the night apart. We’ll probably see each other tomorrow.”

  With a sigh, Anya shifted at her computer. “You know, I think I need a new side business.”

  “Oh, do you?” Cassie grinned. Anya was already run ragged between her full-time job and the fashion consulting she did on the side. “What’s this one?”

  “Online fashion consulting. People email me photos of themselves, their measurements, their likes and dislikes. Then I pick a wardrobe for them they would like. For a fee, of course.” She grinned. “I’m not an idiot, after all.”

  “Of course.”

  “Any move on the sister front?”

  Cassie grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over her head for a moment.

  “I’m sorry, something white and fluffy seems to have swallowed my friend’s face. Excuse me, Mr. Fluffy Monster, could you move a little to the left?”

  Despite herself, Cassie laughed. “You’re so weird.”

  “You’re the one wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Nerd? I prefer the term Intellectual Badass.’”

  Cassie glanced down. “I like this one.”

  Anya just rolled her eyes.

  “Mellie and I are doing great. But she’s hard to not love. Irene . . .” She scrunched her face. “She still hasn’t said anything about the night her mom found my clothes in her closet.”

  “Which she took without asking,” Anya reminded her. As if she needed the reminder.

  “I’m aware.” She flopped one arm to the side. “She watches me, I think. And listens when Mellie and I are hanging out at the big house. You know, since they aren’t allowed over here anymore. What with my corrupting influence and all.”

  “Naturally.”

  “But she doesn’t join in. She’s keeping herself distant. I don’t know if that’s her personality, or her mother’s influence, or just because she doesn’t know if I’m leaving soon, or what.”

  Anya was quiet a moment. “Likely a combination, unfortunately. Which means you have three barriers to knock down, not just one.”

  “Goodie.”

  “Nobody said going out there was going to be easy.” Anya glanced down at her manicure a moment. “When do you want me to fly back out there?”

  “Yesterday.” The thought of having her best friend back by her side was too good to give up.

  “I mean, to help you drive back to Atlanta. How many more games are you staying through?”

  “Um . . .” She bit her bottom lip. “Let me get back to you.”

  “Are you telling me there’s no end plan here?” Her eyes wide, Anya shook. “Bad idea. Figure something out. You need an escape route. Oh!” Her eyes lit. “You could say work called and said to get back to Atlanta or you’re fired.”

  “But that’s not true.”

  “White lie.” Her best friend frowned. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” Cassie felt a lump forming in her throat, so she cleared it. “Someone has to be by my side to make sure I don’t make too many bad choices.”

  Anya huffed. “Like I was effective. ‘Sure, Mr. Sexy Stranger from the Club, I’ll have anonymous sex with you. What could go wrong?’”

  Cassie blushed. “Yeah, well . . . anyway.”

  “Anyway,” Anya agreed.

  At the sound of a buzzer, Cassie jumped. She never got used
to that stupid thing.

  Anya looked horrified. “That wasn’t the oven timer, was it? Please tell me you’re not cooking.”

  “Okay one? Harsh. True, but harsh. And two, no. It’s the intercom system from the main house.” She rose, taking the iPad with her. “Must see what the queen wants.”

  “Have fun with that.” Anya waved, then ended the FaceTime call.

  She pressed the button to answer. “Yes?”

  “Cassandra,” Tabitha’s voice purred. “We’re preparing for the meeting. Would you come over when you’re ready, please?”

  Cassie ground her teeth. Another meeting. Joy. “I’ll be over in a second.”

  Not bothering to change her clothes, she slipped on a pair of flip-flops and walked over to the main house. Rose answered the side door with her typical frown and disapproving look. Cassie was getting used to it . . . just take it daily, like a vitamin. She walked back to the family room. She found Mellie sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. Her sister raised her hand in a moody salute without looking up.

  “They’re in the dining room. Arguing. Again.”

  Cassie debated asking who was arguing, but just figured she would follow the voices anyway. She found her father, Tabitha, and Irene locked in a heated argument. Cassie stood just outside the doorway, eavesdropping, and not feeling guilty about it.

  “I’m sixteen. I’m not a baby, and I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “When you make poor choices,” Tabitha said in a frosty voice, “you reap poor consequences. And one of those is that Rose will stay here with you.”

  “This is so stupid!” Irene’s fists were balled at her sides. “Why are you punishing me?”

  “Based on the outfits I found in your closet, I have a right to question your decision-making skills.”

  “Tabitha,” Ken said quietly. “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s new?” Irene said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

  “You have two choices. Come with us to the meeting, or stay home with Rose.”