Griff Montgomery, Quarterback

by Jean C. Joachim

  Two more people approached for autographs, and he was relieved to have the distraction.

  “Drop him at my house,” she said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “On Saturday morning.”

  He took the address and picked up the dog. “Deal.”

  Lauren gave the animal one last pet and hurried to the parking lot, her cheeks wet. Griff watched until her car pulled out.

  “Hey, Griff, what was that about?” a spectator asked.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He shook hands with both attorneys and headed for his car. After fastening the pug in, Griff rested his forehead on the wheel. He took a deep shuddering breath and blinked rapidly. I’m gonna lose him, too. He belongs to her.

  The idea of another loss squeezed his heart. He’d grown attached to Spike and didn’t know how he’d be able to let him go, even six months from now. He sat back, turned the key in the ignition, and put the vehicle in gear. Gonna have to ramp up my search for a wife and a new life. I’ve got six months to find her. I can’t let him go until she’s in my life.

  The tightness in his chest loosened a little. A woof from the backseat made him smile as he rounded the corner and pulled into the driveway of the little Victorian.

  When Griff opened the door, Spike ran into the house, right to his water bowl. The quarterback followed his dog into the kitchen and filled his dish with food. He straddled a chair to watch the pug wolf down his meal. At least he needs me. The thought eased the pain in his heart a little.

  Chapter Four

  With Spike tucked securely under his arm, Griff pushed open the door to the workout room at the stadium.

  “No dogs allowed, Montgomery. And that includes your girlfriend,” snickered Aloysius “Trunk” Mahoney, defensive linebacker.

  “Very funny. I’m gonna die laughing.”

  “What if he shits in here?” Mahoney cocked an eyebrow at Griff.

  “He already took a dump in your helmet, asshole.”

  The half dozen players working out stopped. They laughed as Trunk’s face got red, and the pug barked. The linebacker mumbled something under his breath as he made his way to the treadmill.

  Griff parked Spike on the floor by the door and plopped a weight down on the leash. The dog curled up and closed his eyes halfway. The quarterback warmed up on the treadmill.

  His pal, Buddy, doing biceps curls, moved closer. “Still got that mangy mutt?”

  “He’s not mangy. Yeah. He’s still with me. Sort of.”

  Buddy raised his eyebrows, and Griff explained the court’s decision to his teammate.

  “You’ve got to share him with some bitch? Why don’t you just give him up?” Buddy asked.

  “I like having him around.” Griff increased his pace to a fast walk.

  Trunk snickered. “In bed with a dog? You’re slipping.”

  “He’s better looking than anything you’ve slept with.”

  “Are you referring to my wife?” Trunk’s tone turned belligerent.

  “Oh, you’re married? Gee, I didn’t think so when we were in Miami, San Francisco, and Dallas last year,” Griff shot back.

  “Fuck you, Montgomery,” Trunk muttered under his breath.

  Griff upped his speed to a run. After a few minutes, he turned off the machine, downed a bottle of water, and approached the weight benches. The door opened and an attractive blonde entered. She waved to the men before she posted a sheet on the wall.

  “New roster,” Trunk said, eyeing the list.

  The men gathered around. It included last year’s team members plus the February draft picks. Griff spotted a rookie quarterback. Tony Hastings. From Kensington State. Griff ground his teeth. Kensington State University was a major rival of his alma mater, Wellington College. Are they planning to replace me? Who is this guy? Is he backup?

  The blonde turned to Griff. “Coach Bass would like to see you for a minute, Griff,” she said.

  He grabbed Spike, nodded, and followed her up to the administrative offices.

  “Come in,” Pete said.

  Griff sat down, placing the pug on the floor.

  “Whatcha got there?”

  “New member of the Montgomery family. This is Spike.”

  The dog perked up, giving a short bark at the mention of his name.

  The coach grinned. “Kinda cute in an ugly sort of way.”

  “What’s up, Coach?”

  “I wanted to explain about Hastings.”

  “I saw his name on the roster.”

  “We got lucky he wasn’t picked before we got our turn. He’s good, but he’s green. I want you to take him under your wing. Teach him.”

  “Train my replacement?” Anger bubbled up inside Griff.

  “He’s not your replacement. Unless you retire or get injured.”

  “You’re not putting me out to pasture?”

  “You’re only thirty-three, Griff. Not exactly over-the-hill.”

  The quarterback let out a breath. “No, I’m not.”

  “We haven’t found anyone in the last few years we thought would be a good back-up. Until Tony. Talk to him. Make friends. You’re his idol, you know.”

  “Idol? I’m too young to be anyone’s idol.”

  “Well, you’re his. So, be nice to him. And don’t worry. I hope you’ll be leading us to a couple more Super Bowls.”

  “Thanks.” Griff pushed to his feet.

  “By the way. Leave the dog out of the training rooms, okay? Don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anyone complain?”

  “A couple of guys. Department of Health. Codes and all that shit.” Coach glanced down at some papers on his desk.

  “I get it. Fine.”

  “Sorry. But you can bring him to the games. Have him sit with your girlfriend.”

  “Would do, except I don’t have one.”

  Coach looked up. “No girl?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good luck.”

  Griff smiled, shook the Coach’s hand, and left. Opening his cell, he dialed Lauren. She agreed to pick up Spike.

  “Griff’s new girl is outside,” Buddy said, his face plastered to the locker room window.

  “She’s only picking up Spike,” Griff countered, tucking the canine under his arm.

  “Woo hoo! She’s hot. Let’s go meet her.” Buddy hustled to the door.

  The other men yanked on pants and followed. Lauren stood in the sun, shading her eyes and blinking. Griff put the dog down, and Spike ran to his owner. Lauren crouched down to greet the wiggly pug, who licked her face.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Buddy asked, all innocence.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “If you’re not interested, hell, I sure am.”

  “That’s the point,” Griff said. He headed for Lauren, who picked up the pooch’s leash then faced the quarterback.

  “Quite a welcoming committee. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “To these animals? Never. Come on.” He took her arm, turning her toward the parking lot and escorting her to her car.

  “Some of them are kinda cute. ’Specially the one with the blond hair,” she said, fishing around in her purse.

  “Buddy? He’s the biggest man-whore of them all.”

  She chuckled as she pulled out her car keys. “Bigger than you?”

  “He leaves me in the dust.”

  Lauren stopped, her eyes wide. “Wow.”

  “Hey, you don’t know anything about me. Why are you making these judgments?”

  “Reputation. I thought all male athletes were after only one thing—a bed partner for the night.”

  “Not all. Maybe some. Maybe some of the time. Not all the time. Crap. I’m getting all tangled up here.”

  “Yeah. Forget it. Doesn’t matter what I think of you, anyway.” She opened the back door and bent over to fasten Spike’s leash into the seatbelt.

  “Oh? Why?
”

  She squared her shoulders, put her hands on her hips, and faced him. “Let’s get this straight. We hate each other…”

  “Hate is a strong word.”

  “Dislike, then?”

  “Well, yeah, maybe.”

  “We’re in the middle of a custody battle. Don’t be a jerk. I know what you think of me.”

  “Do you?”

  “You telling me we’re best friends?”

  “No, but we don’t have to be mortal enemies, either. We both like Spike. Can we be civil?”

  “Civil? To a man who’s trying to take my dog away? He’s my life. And you want me to be happy about it?”

  “Your life? That’s too bad.” He looked her over, his gaze taking in all her luscious curves. “A woman who looks like you should have more going for her than that.”

  “I should slap your face.”

  “For giving you a compliment?”

  “That’s not a compliment. It’s…it’s…it’s a…never mind!” Her green eyes blazed at him.

  “There are plenty of women who’d love to hear that from me.”

  “Yeah? Well, tell it to them. You can’t sweet-talk me. I’m not giving up Zander.”

  “I never said you should.”

  “Oh? That’s not what you testified to in court.”

  “That’s before I knew the whole story. Your ex is an asshole.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.” She slid behind the wheel and turned on the ignition.

  “I get him back Sunday morning?”

  “That’s the schedule. Don’t get any STD’s this weekend.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.” He could have cooled three drinks with the amount of ice in her voice.

  She hit the gas pedal and zoomed out of the parking lot. He got the message. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and that was a first. He was intrigued. He’d never met a woman who wasn’t falling all over him, especially since he’d started playing football in high school. He had to admire her independence, even if she was a bitch.

  He laughed to himself. Never been attracted to a bitch before. Guess there’s a first time for everything.

  When he returned to the locker room to grab his gear, he was pelted with questions.

  “What’s her name?” Buddy asked.

  “She dumb enough to go out with you?” Trunk Mahoney piped up.

  “We’re just sharing the damn dog. So, shut the hell up, okay?” Aggravated by Lauren, Griff needed to clear his head. He did what he always did when he needed to think—he went for a run. I’ve got to have the best year ever. Show that asshole Hastings I’m not ready for a nursing home. Anger fueled his body as he pushed himself to run farther and faster.

  For the next two weeks, he extended his workouts at the gym to stay in shape. On Griff’s time, Spike was left home alone for hours. On Friday, he returned at three. Spying another car in the driveway, he entered the house cautiously. When he opened the door, the smell of something wonderful baking greeted him. Amy. He smiled, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of her warm bread with melting butter.

  She stood in the living room, hands fisted on her hips, a scowl on her face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Dog. He peed on my heirloom rug and chewed on the leg of my sofa. He’s got to go, or you do,” she answered.

  “Damn! Spike. How could you, buddy?”

  “This is gonna cost a fortune to have fixed.”

  “Send me the bill.”

  “I will. You’re a great guy, Griff, but you didn’t have a dog when I rented to you.”

  “I know, I know. It’s my fault.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, and either it’s no dog or no Griff. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “I left you a loaf,” she said, as she closed the door behind her.

  Shit! My house isn’t ready. But I can’t give up Spike. Saturday morning, he was due to deliver the pug. Griff hatched a plan and packed his bags. By nine, he and the pooch were on their way to Lauren’s. He admired her lovely Victorian, painted yellow with white trim, as he climbed the steps.

  She was waiting and flung open the door as soon as they hit the top step. She embraced the dog and kissed him. He licked her face. “Thanks for bringing him.” She moved to go back into the house when Griff took her arm.

  “Wait. A new wrinkle.”

  “What?” Her brows knitted.

  “Nothing bad. It’s just that I’ve been kicked out of the house I’m renting. Spike’s fault. And mine is being renovated. Spike and I have nowhere to live.”

  “Get a motel.” She turned her back to him.

  “You live alone in this big place, right?”

  “So?”

  “How about renting me a room?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “That way you can be with Spike all the time,” he said.

  She stopped for a moment, a small smile playing at her lips. “How much would you pay?”

  “Name your price.”

  “Three thousand a month.”

  “Including two meals a day?” he asked.

  She looked him up and down. “Bet you eat like a horse. Add five hundred.”

  “Deal.” She’s not Kathy, but a hot meal and a room is better than nothing.

  * * * *

  What the hell have I done? She chewed her lip as Griff returned to the car for his luggage. I don’t want that monster living in my house. But Bob had only left three thousand dollars in their checking account. Lauren knew that wouldn’t go far, with the mortgage, taxes, water, electric, vet bills, and food. She’d been avoiding the truth. She needed funds. Maybe by the time that money is gone, I’ll have another customer from Annette.

  She guided the pug into the living room as Griff climbed the front steps.

  “Where do you want this?”

  “This way.” She unsnapped the dog’s leash and headed toward the back of the house. At the end of the hall was a magnificent room. Painted a light, grayish blue with white molding, it had two floor-to-ceiling windows facing the backyard. Gauzy, white curtains swayed slightly in a gentle breeze. A smaller window faced the side of the property. A vintage quilt in a blue, green, and white print covered the queen-size bed. A white dust ruffle bordered the bottom.

  An antique roll top desk took up one corner of the room and a comfortable, wing chair and dresser the other two. The room was light, airy, and totally charming. She noticed him smile. “This is the guest room.”

  “Bed’s a little small,” he said.

  She shot him a sharp look.

  “What do you want? I’m a big guy. It’s okay. Nice room.” He moved to the windows. His large frame dwarfed the spacious chamber. Lauren put her hand over her chest to cover the spreading blush of embarrassment. She’d moved in here, giving Bob the master bedroom, after they had agreed to a divorce. Standing in what had been her private place, with the sexy quarterback, sent a shiver down her spine.

  “The kitchen,” she said, turning on her heel. Griff followed her into the well-equipped space with fine, wood cabinets, black granite countertops, and an old, oak table and chairs.

  “Nice,” he repeated, looking around.

  “You’re welcome to use everything.”

  “I don’t cook.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really? How do you eat?”

  “Take out. I used to live with my sister and her family. Kathy was an excellent cook.”

  “Spoiled rotten,” she mumbled under her breath. “I can cook, but I’m no Iron Chef.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  She took him on a tour of the rest of the house—living room, den, three bedrooms upstairs, and even the attic. The master bedroom had a brick fireplace, white marble mantle, and plank floors.

  “Ever use the fireplace?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Guess your ex wasn’t a romantic.”

&nbs
p; “Nope.” Too much work to haul wood up here, he’d complained when she’d asked. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Griff. She’d take a small log up to bed with her from time to time. Though she now had a nice stash, the idea of enjoying a fire by herself only depressed her.

  The queen-sized bed had a carved oak headboard, ruffled duster, and a pink, quilted bedspread. There was a dressing table, chaise longue, and antique, oak dresser. After Bob had moved out, she’d spent a weekend furiously redecorating, painting the walls herself. The pink, mauve, and white color scheme was decidedly feminine, which pleased her. The footballer made her uncomfortable, looking ultra-masculine standing in her boudoir.

  “This is a very girly room.”

  “Of course. It’s my room.”

  “Figures,” he said, moving toward the staircase.

  The pug was curled up on a small bed in the living room, snoring.

  “Zander, treat!” Lauren called. The dog cracked an eye, stretched, and then trotted into the kitchen.

  “We’ve got to iron out this name thing, or the dog’s gonna get confused.”

  “His name’s Zander. I don’t see the problem.”

  “What kind of pussy name is that?”

  “What?” Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.

  “Sorry, sorry. I mean, that’s a sissy name. Spike is a man’s name.”

  “A man? A serial killer. A bully, maybe. Not a sweet pug.”

  “I can’t take him into the locker room with a dumb name like Zander. Where did you come up with that? It stinks.”

  “So, don’t go in the locker room with him. Leave him with me.”

  Griff smiled. “Good try. He’s half mine for the next six months.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m not calling him Zander. Spike, it is.”

  Lauren let out a breath. “Fine! Spike, then.”

  His face lit up, and he grinned. “Knew you’d see it my way.”

  “It’s Saturday. My time. He sleeps with me tonight.”

  “Too bad Spike’s all the company you’ve got upstairs.”

  She raised her hand to slap him, but he was quicker this time and caught her wrist. He squeezed. “Ow. Ow. Let go.”