Sly Bullhorn Brodsky Page 13

  “Hey, baby. I gotta go. Practice.”

  “I’m sorry I slept in. But it’s your fault.”

  “Mine?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “You kept me up. How many times did we make love? I lost count.”

  He snickered. “Couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t resist you.”

  “Don’t you use up too much energy that way? I mean, right before a game?”

  “Nope. Sex energizes me. I’m always more frisky on the gridiron when I’ve been frisky in the bedroom the night before.”

  “Guess that’s just a myth.”

  “How are you? Sore?”

  “A little.” She nodded. “But a good sore.” She grinned.

  “You comin’ to the game?” he asked, as he sloughed his coat over his big shoulders.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Ellen’s doing the shelter tonight.” She raised her face for his kiss. “Good luck, babe. Don’t get hurt.”

  “Not planning on it. Thanks, honey. See you after?”

  “At The Beast?”

  “Yep. At The Beast. Wait for me. We’ll go together.”

  She smiled, kissed him again, and then waved from the door.

  Bull grinned all the way to the stadium. He was a lucky man to have such a fine, sexy woman. Now, he was going to crush the Gamblers like they were soda cans, and the anticipation brought him pleasure.

  He entered the locker room and hit the buffet. The game was scheduled for one, but it was only ten. Bull filled his plate with a broccoli and mushroom omelet plus a few slices of steak. He added a baked potato to give him the necessary carbs and piled on sour cream, since Stormy wasn’t there. For quick energy, he downed a huge glass of orange juice.

  An hour before the starting whistle, he’d return and gnaw on a chicken leg or two to pump up his protein. Every man had his own pre-game eating ritual. Bull finished his meal off with two bottles of water. He was primed and ready to go. They had two hours to warm up and go over plays.

  “Brodsky, I see you got your fuckin’ head screwed on straight…for a change,” called out Buddy Carruthers, wide receiver, as the players donned their uniforms.

  “And my dick too. Which is more than I can say for you.”

  “When your dick’s as big as mine, Bull, it’s hard to keep it straight.”

  “You wish, Carruthers.”

  The men laughed.

  “Hey, Trunk, you gonna kill that asshole Darvin Sweetwater?” Devon asked, taking down his cleats.

  Coach Bass stuck his head in. “Sweetwater’s not playing. At least not in the first half.”

  “Fuck! That means Demson can’t play,” Trunk said. “I have to take the lead.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” Coach ducked out.

  “What’s the matter, Trunk? Cold feet? Their guys aren’t as big as Horse Jackson. You can take them easy,” Griff Montgomery added.

  “Maybe. Wouldn’t mind a little help sometimes.”

  “Hey, you’re not the only guy out there,” Tuffer Demson said.

  “Sometimes, it seems that way.”

  “Go to hell, Mahoney!”

  Bull stepped between his teammates. “Guys, guys. Chill. Coach’ll do whatever he has to. Trunk, so will you. We gotta win this one to get to the Super Bowl.”

  “Yeah, get your heads in the game, guys,” Buddy said.

  “And your dick too, Carruthers,” Trunk shot back.

  “I never go in without it,” Buddy responded.

  That cut the tension. They laughed again as they gathered around for Coach’s words of wisdom.

  Before they went out on the field, Bull plucked his phone from the locker. He’d forgotten to turn it off. He hated to waste the battery and come back to find it almost empty. He glanced at the screen. There was a message from Tiffany. He debated opening it, but couldn’t stand not to know. Maybe it’s good news? Maybe she reconciled with that asshole Clyde? Maybe she’s going home?

  No such luck.

  Bull, let’s get back together. I’ll dump Clyde, and you break it off with the brunette. We were good together. I messed up. Please give me another chance.

  His blood began to boil. And right before the game. Thanks a lot, Tiffany. Fuck you. I’ll never get back with you. He shook his head, took a deep breath and let it out, and then loped onto the field. Griff was calling the toss. He won. Always a good sign to the men. They elected to kick off and receive after the half.

  Bull stood on the sidelines. He scanned the stands for Samantha. She was in the owner’s box with Coach’s wife, Jo, Griff’s pregnant wife, Lauren, and their little boy, Stormy Gregory, Devon Drake’s fiancée, and Emmy, Buddy’s wife.

  He smiled. She was watching the action, and he couldn’t catch her eye. He stood by, checking out the Gamblers. Coach gave him the numbers of the men he’d be playing against. Jesus, they’re big. Not as big as Jackson, but big enough. Bull had to get his head back in the game, instead of swirling in a fury at Tiffany.

  The Gamblers charged downfield. Tim Demson, as quarterback, led more running plays than passing. Bull figured it was because he was a rookie. Trunk had his work cut out for him, chasing down the nimble, young quarterback and the receivers. Devon shadowed the player Coach thought was their star. Drake kept him to two receptions.

  Trunk managed to get through their line and sack the quarterback. He didn’t hurt the young man, but the loss meant the Gamblers had to punt. Bull put his helmet on and glanced at Samantha in the box one more time before running out onto the field.

  She turned, and their gazes connected. She gave a quick wave, and he raised his hand briefly in return before joining his teammates. He had to move quickly, or risk a penalty for delay of game. His heart lifted. Even the brief, far away contact gave him hope. He got to the huddle in time to get the play. As usual, he knew what to do.

  Bull headed off the Gamblers’ number twenty-two, Hardy. He was almost as big as Brodsky and quick. Griff rifled a pass downfield for a first down. But the next play, Hardy got by Bull. Griff got a pass off just before Hardy took him down. Bull was kicking himself.

  Tiffany was in his head, messing him up. He had to get her out. The Kings retaliated by running the ball for another first down then executing a perfect pass play. Buddy took it fifteen yards. They were pumped, but Bull was still having a hard time concentrating.

  Hardy was staring at him with angry eyes. “Your number’s up, asshole,” he said.

  Anger exploded inside Bull. After the hike, Griff backed up for a pass, but one of the defensemen accidentally tipped the pigskin. It flew up in the air. Brodsky and Hardy ran for it at the same time. Bull was going full speed when he launched himself into the air. He trapped the ball in his gut and went soaring straight into Hardy. The collision shoved Hardy’s helmet against Bull’s chest.

  Brodsky fell on the ball and landed on Hardy. Bull lay still, crumpled, on the field, unable to breathe.

  ****

  Samantha was watching the game, chatting with Stormy and Lauren, when the ball was tipped. She saw Bull go up in the air, come down, and lay still. Her breath was stuck in her lungs. Panic pumped adrenaline through her veins.

  “Sly! Get up! Get up!” she screamed, standing on tiptoe in the box. Around her, the silence was deafening. She looked at Stormy then at Lauren. Tears flowed. “Get up, Sly! Get up! Help him! Somebody help him!”

  But the lineman just lay there. Medics and trainers ran out onto the field. They were there in seconds, but it seemed like hours to Sam. “Why doesn’t someone help him?”

  Lyle Barker, team owner, came up behind her. He placed an avuncular arm around her shoulders. “They are, little lady. They are.”

  Samantha couldn’t breathe as she watched the team work on Bull. When he finally sat up, the fans cheered. In that instance, it became clear to Samantha Drake just how much she cared for Sly Brodsky. Her breathing returned to normal when he got up and walked to the sidelines.

  “See? He’s okay. I’ll call down and find out what happened,” L
yle said, patting her hand.

  Stormy hugged her friend. “He’s all right. He’s up and moving on his own. He’s okay.”

  As soon as the truth penetrated her mind, she began to shake and sob. Stormy held her tight then she and Emmy took Sam to the ladies’ room. Sam sank down on the toilet and took some deep breaths. Stormy got her a wet paper towel and a dry one. The women talked quietly, trying to calm Sam down. After five minutes, she was able to stop crying.

  “Guess you care about him more than you figured, eh?” Stormy asked, crouching down next to her friend.

  “Are you kidding? Care about him? I’m totally in love with the man. He’s everything. I never want to live through another moment like that again.”

  Stormy smiled. “Good. At least you learned something.”

  “I think maybe you should marry the guy,” Emmy said, rubbing her belly.

  “Ya think?” Sam replied, smiling.

  When they got back to the box, Lyle was waiting. “He got hit hard, knocked the wind out of him. Maybe bruised a rib or two. But he can play. They’ve given him a pain killer shot, taped him up, and he’s back in the game.”

  Samantha returned to her seat. Bull was on the sidelines because the Gamblers had the ball. She saw him looking up, frowning.

  “I think he’s looking for you,” Emmy whispered.

  Samantha waved, catching his eye. He smiled at her and nodded.

  “By the way, we scored on the next play,” Lyle put in.

  The owner poured Samantha a vodka and tonic. She watched the rest of the game, cheering for the Kings, relieved there were no more injuries. The Kings beat the Gamblers, seventeen to ten. It was a close one, but it clinched the playoffs for the Kings. There would be a huge celebration that evening. The pressure wouldn’t be heavy again until the playoffs started, in early January.

  When the game was over, Samantha rushed downstairs. Even though she’d seen him get back on the field and play again, she wouldn’t be sure he was okay until she touched him and spoke to him.

  The men were in the locker room, changing, taking forever. Sam paced outside.

  “They take longer to get dressed than women do,” Stormy mumbled, looking at her watch for the fourth time.

  Emmy and Lauren had gone out to their cars. Lauren couldn’t stand for long, and Emmy was tired too. It was chilly, with Thanksgiving a few days away, and a winterish wind whipped around the homes and fields of Connecticut.

  Devon and Bull came out together. Like a shot, Samantha charged into her man, wrapping her arms around him until he hissed with pain. “Take it easy, sweetheart. Those ribs are tender.” He folded her into his embrace.

  She couldn’t stop the tears and sobbed into his chest.

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m fine. Just a little bruised rib. Bastard knocked the damn wind out of me. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “That’s why you didn’t move?”

  He nodded. “I thought I was dying or dead,” he whispered. “But don’t tell anybody.”

  “I thought you were dead too. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I did?”

  “I got totally hysterical. It was so embarrassing.”

  The big man laughed. “Aw. That’s sweet. Guess you do love me, hey?”

  “Don’t ever do that again. Okay?” She loosened her hold on him.

  “I promise. That’s not something I want to repeat.” He wiped her tears away with his hand then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed her face.

  “Let’s go celebrate, baby. We’re going to the playoffs. Super Bowl, here we come.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday before Thanksgiving, 7 a.m.—Samantha Drake’s apartment

  The Kings were scheduled to play the evening game on Thanksgiving. Some families planned their feast for lunchtime while others put it off until Friday, claiming turkey would make the players sleepy.

  Samantha called her brother. “Can we do Thanksgiving at your place? Mine’s too small.”

  “Sure. But it’s just the three of us, so what’s the big deal?” he replied.

  “The three of us? Uh, no. Bull’s coming. Aren’t there some players with no place to go?”

  “Bull? Why’s he coming?”

  “Because he’s my boyfriend.” And my lover, but I’m not telling you that.

  “You still dating him?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Devon. It doesn’t work. You know we are. And if I come, so does he. Anyone else you can think of?”

  “I don’t think The Kid is going anywhere. His folks live in Wisconsin. He’s cleared to fly, but I doubt he’ll make it back for Turkey Day.”

  “Let’s invite him. Is he married?”

  “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  “Include her too.”

  “Bull, really?”

  “Give it up. You don’t know him. He’s good to me.”

  “He’d better be.”

  “What about Trunk?”

  “I’ll ask him. He’s married. He might have plans.”

  “Ask anyway. Invite his wife too.”

  “I’m not sure how many my table can fit.”

  “It seats twelve. Let’s fill it. Ask anyone who needs a place to go. It’s Thanksgiving, Devon. Let’s get into the spirit of the holiday.”

  “You’re in a good mood. Very generous of you at my house.”

  She laughed. “I’ll buy the food.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mind. Hell, we’re going to the playoffs. I have Stormy. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for this year.”

  “Me too.”

  “What? Bullhorn Brodsky?” He snorted.

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re not in love with him, are you?” Doubt crept into her brother’s voice.

  “I might be. If it’s any of your business.”

  “You’re gonna get hurt. Once he gets you in the sack, you’re finished. Hey! You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”

  “Gotta go. Big menu to plan.” She ended the conversation.

  Samantha and Devon had always been close growing up. They were the last two children in a family of six kids. The gap between them was only two years, but then it was six years to the next oldest. Their siblings used to tease them about being menopause babies.

  They had hung around together. Stormy Gregory, a neighbor and Samantha’s best friend, had played with them too. The three had gone everywhere together. Now, Devon was engaged to Stormy, after years of no contact. Samantha was happy for them. Stormy would be the perfect mate for Devon. She’d never let his head get too big.

  But now, things were different. Devon was still convinced Bull was a womanizer. He didn’t want the lineman anywhere near his sister. Sam didn’t dare tell him she was in love with the big guy. She figured Devon would go berserk, so she kept it to herself. It was hard not to tell him. She wanted to share the biggest secret of her life, but couldn’t. So, she didn’t call him as often, or stop by to visit. Devon was so wrapped up in his own life, he didn’t seem to notice. It relieved and saddened her that his attitude had created a wedge between them.

  ‘Let’s see. Twelve people. Hmm.” Sam talked to herself as she sank down on a kitchen chair with paper and pen to make a shopping list. After it was done, she dialed Bull.

  “Hey, beautiful. What’s up?”

  “You’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner, right?”

  “You askin’?”

  “Ya think?”

  “And Devon doesn’t mind?”

  “This isn’t about him.”

  “So, he does mind.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. Where are you having it?”

  “His house.”

  Bull whistled into the phone. “Hey, baby, isn’t that kind of throwing it in his face?”

  “I don’t care. He’d better get used to seeing us together.”

  “You planning on staying with me?”

  She got fluster
ed. “Oh, I…well, I mean…if you don’t—”

  He interrupted, “No, no, that’s good. That’s what I want. I want you, honey. You’re mine.”

  She blew out a breath. “Whew. Scared me for a minute there.”

  “Of course, I’ll come. You’re right. Devon needs to get used to us. Eventually, he’ll figure it out. He’s not stupid.”

  “Great! We’re having the dinner on Friday.”

  “Good idea. That was my next question.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “You couldn’t keep me away.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Love you, babe.”

  She put her cell down and smiled. Sweet, sexy thoughts raced through her mind as she returned to her holiday shopping list. She texted Stormy to meet with her to divide up the cooking duties and refilled her mug. There was time for one more cup of coffee before she had to leave for her job in the front office of the Connecticut Kings.

  ****

  Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.—across town in the home of Griff Montgomery

  Lauren Montgomery opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, spooned by her husband, the Kings’ quarterback. A noise came from a room across the hall. “Chip is up.”

  Griff groaned. “Can’t we teach him to sleep in?”

  Lauren laughed. “Good luck with that. Your turn.”

  “I know, I know. Don’t rub it in. Can I help it if I’d like to spend time in bed with my wife?”

  “It’s pretty hard to fool around anyway. I’m due in six weeks.”

  “Is there a law against cuddling? Don’t tell anyone on the team I used that word, okay?”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” She closed her fingers around the powerful forearms that encased her bulk. The feel of his arms around her soothed her. With the birth of their second child expected soon, her nerves were frayed. Griff had practice and games. And she had two year old Chip to take care of. How would she manage to get to the hospital on time?