Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver Page 6

He snickered, moving to one side. “Always room for you, sexy.”

  She stepped in, easing under the warm water.

  “Turn around.” He snatched a fresh wash cloth from the sink and soaped it up. When she faced away from him, he scrubbed her back then moved down to her rear, and, hearing her sigh, slipped it around to her front.

  Emmy inched closer to the wall, bracing her hands against it as Buddy stepped up behind her, his hands now doing the washing, creeping into intimate places. She rested her forehead on the cool tile.

  He whispered in her ear, “Spread ’em for me, baby. Let me take you to the moon.”

  She eased her head back a bit and moaned loudly, doing as he asked, closing her eyes and totally forgetting the rest of the world.

  With the wall to hold her up, Emmy went limp. Every muscle relaxed to the point where she was in danger of sliding down completely, until Buddy propped her up, wrapping his arm around her waist. The way his touch went from soft and gentle to rough and demanding in a heartbeat melted her bones. His adoring words, uttered between groans of sheer pleasure, caressed her heart. Loving Buddy was a completely new experience. He captivated her, winning her again.

  She forced herself to stay in the moment and not worry about the future. Times like these came rarely, and she’d be damned if she’d let common sense spoil it.

  All too soon, he turned off the shower and tossed her a fluffy, dark blue towel.

  “That’s one helluva way to wake up,” she said, stepping onto the bathmat.

  “Stay with me this week, and I’ll wake you up like this every day.”

  With his chest still wet and glistening, his smile sexy as sin, his scruff inviting, she gave in. “Okay. But just this week.”

  His mouth stretched into a huge grin, and his eyes glowed. He brushed his lips against hers. “You won’t regret it.”

  She cupped his cheek then kissed him. “You’re amazing.”

  They toweled off.

  “Coffee,” he said, fastening his robe and padding toward the kitchen.

  Emmy rifled through his closet until she found a light green, button down, long-sleeved oxford shirt. She slipped it over her shoulders, fastened it, except for the top two buttons, and rolled up the sleeves. The shirttails hung down to mid-thigh. She sashayed out of the bedroom and followed the rich aroma of the brew.

  Buddy spit out his beverage when she entered. Reaching for a handful of paper towels, he stared. “You look fantastic. That shirt never looked that good on me.”

  She bowed, intentionally revealing some cleavage, and sat down at the small, round, wooden table. He poured a cup of coffee, added one sugar and some milk, and then offered it to her.

  She glanced at the mug then up at him. “You remember.”

  “I remember everything about you. The way you take your coffee. Your laugh. The way you taste. Everything. Like it was yesterday.” A sadness flashed through his eyes.

  “Did I break your heart?” she whispered, the sudden realization making her breathless.

  He nodded.

  Emmy put her hand on his forearm and drew closer. She brushed his hair back with her fingers. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to. I had no idea you were trying to reach me.”

  Buddy folded his fingers over hers. “It’s past. Forget it. We’re together now. You’re staying the week. Then what?”

  “How about we figure it out from there? Maybe, after a week with this prima donna, you’ll be glad to see me go.”

  He snorted. “Don’t think so.”

  “We’ll see.” She arose from her chair, headed for the refrigerator. “What have you got in this dump to eat?” She opened the door and peered inside.

  “Dump? You call my house a dump? I’ve got three acres…”

  With a chuckle, she held up her hand. “Just a joke, Buddy. Your house is beautiful.”

  “Damn right, it is. With plenty of room for a badass rock star, too.” His ruffled feathers smoothed out.

  “Oh, so I’m badass, now?” She rested her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow.

  “Damn right, you are.” He opened a can of dog food, spooned some into a bowl, and set it on the floor. With a click click of his toenails on the tile floor, Blitz made his way to his breakfast.

  She laughed. “Guess I am.” Emmy pulled out a carton of eggs and some ham. “How old is this?”

  “Got it about a week ago.”

  Emmy smelled everything for freshness, found a dab of butter, and began whipping up ham and eggs. Buddy went to dress in his workout clothes while she cooked. When he returned, he put out fresh water for the pug. The lovers sat down at the table.

  “I’ll need clothes,” she said, between bites.

  “I thought I’d keep you naked. Then, you can’t run away.”

  “Are you gonna hide what I wore here?”

  “Oh. Forgot about those. I’m making you a present of that shirt. It looks great on you.”

  “Thanks, but I need clothes.”

  “We’ll go shopping when I get back from practice.”

  “And some food. There’s not much here.”

  “Okay, okay. Clothes, food, whatever you want.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How about a jet? I could use a new tour bus too.” She cast her gaze to her plate to keep him from seeing the mischief in her eyes.

  “What?”

  “I’m badass and expensive, baby,” she said, then burst out laughing.

  A look of relief swept over his face. “For a minute there, I thought you were serious.”

  “I make enough money to buy my own jet and my own bus too.”

  “I’ll bet you do. Fans love you.”

  “How do you know?”

  He blushed and turned his eyes to his own plate.

  “Come on, give.”

  “Okay, so I’ve caught a few concerts.”

  “You came to my concerts?”

  He nodded.

  “Why didn’t you come backstage? Why didn’t you see me?”

  “I thought you’d moved on.”

  Emotion gathered in her throat. She closed her fingers over his. “Oh, Buddy. Why have we waited so long?” Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and she didn’t fight it.

  Buddy leaned over and swiped at them with his napkin. “Don’t cry, Emmy. We’re here now. We have to look ahead.”

  “I know. But ahead is…well, uncertain. I mean you travel, I travel. I travel all the time.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Let’s do like you say. Not talk about the future. Have our week together, and the rest can wait.”

  She nodded, and slipped her hand under his, curling her fingers around his large thumb. He raised hers to his lips, never taking his gaze from hers.

  After eating, Buddy leashed his dog and took him for a quick walk.

  “It’s time,” he said upon his return, releasing the harness and glancing at the clock.

  “I know. Like rehearsals.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try to get out early.”

  “Call me.”

  “Okay.” He took her in his arms and kissed her once, then again, then one last time.

  “You’re never going to get to practice this way.” She pulled out of his embrace.

  He turned and made tracks to the door. “Love you,” he said, then was gone.

  * * * *

  Emmy sighed. She picked up her coffee and double-locked the front door. The house was quiet. She cleaned up the breakfast dishes, threw her clothes in the washer, and made the bed. She smiled while doing the simple tasks she used to do all the time but never did anymore. She had a housekeeper for the house she had bought in their old college town. A house she spent about two months in every year. Emerald, the rock star, was on the road most of the time.

  Plopping down on the bed, Emmy faced the rest of the day with nothing to do. She eyed Buddy’s closet. She’d already poked around in there, looking for the shirt she wore. He had an impressive array
of fine suits, must have been at least half a dozen. A dozen shirts in various subtle colors, like the one she wore, filled up the rest of the space, leaving a bit of room for a tie rack. What for? She shrugged, closed the doors, and then went to his dresser. The sight of two dozen condoms in his top drawer made her gasp. Wow! At least he’s careful.

  After not finding anything else interesting, she opened the four different bottles of aftershave and sniffed, deciding which one she liked best. Chez Moi fit the bill. She replaced them carefully in exactly the same place they were before, so he wouldn’t know she’d been snooping.

  She padded into the kitchen to refill her coffee. On the way, she passed the door to his den. That would be her next amusement, searching his man cave. Blitz followed her. Buddy was a neat man. The papers on his desk were organized in folders. Most were financial information, which she respectfully left alone. Easing into his big, leather desk chair, she opened the deep file drawer on the lower right. She thumbed through the tabs, until she got to one that said “Emmy.”

  She pulled out the folder and put it on the desk. Poised with her hands in the air, she pondered the ethics of opening it. It’s his private stuff. It’s not out on the desk. But it has my name on it. Doesn’t that give me the right to read it? She argued with herself for a few minutes then whipped it open. Inside was a sheaf of papers. The top one had her picture on it. Gingerly, she picked it up, being careful not to rip the thin page.

  It was from a magazine. The article was about her. As she thumbed through the pile, she came upon picture after picture, story after story about her, going back four years. If this collection belonged to Robert Carson, she’d be creeped out. But it was Buddy’s. By the neatness of the edges, she could tell Buddy had been careful pulling these from magazines. He’d been keeping tabs on her, watching her career skyrocket from the sidelines.

  Emotion filled her chest. No matter how much she had distrusted his words, this folder, dedicated to her, told the true story. Buddy loved her and had for a long time. She piled each page on the ones before and returned them to the folder. Then, she replaced it in the exact same spot where she found it. He can’t know I found this. He came to my concerts, he followed my career, so why did he give up on us? How could she ask him without revealing she’d been nosing around his personal stuff? She couldn’t. It would have to remain a mystery.

  Emmy blinked back tears. She stared out the picture window that faced his spacious backyard. A small part of his land was cleared and mowed to perfection. Most of it appeared to be woods. He said three acres. How much of what I see is his? She got up and wandered closer. Beyond the sumptuous deck with its redwood furniture and huge, shiny grill, there was some lawn. She spied bird feeders hung on several trees at the edge.

  She unlocked the sliding glass doors and went out on the deck, in the company of the pug. It was warm for September, and she wasn’t chilled in his shirt and nothing else. She sat back on a recliner, sipped the rest of her coffee, and watched the birds jockey for the best positions on the feeder.

  The dog curled up in his small bed near the railing. As she relaxed, her eyes closed. When the breeze picked up, Emmy moved toward the house. After she entered the den, she heard the metallic scrape of keys in a lock and froze. The pooch faced the noise, barking.

  She scampered into the kitchen, opening drawers, frantically searching for a weapon. A glance to the counter where a wood block held cutting tools ended her search. Emmy grabbed the largest carving knife she saw and flattened herself against the wall next to the kitchen archway. Her hand and knees trembled as she raised the blade above her head and held her breath. How the hell did he find me?

  The creaking sound of a door opening alerted her. She leaned more heavily against the wall as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She heard a humming sound. Doesn’t sound like Robert.

  The voice continued to hum then broke into singing. A woman? Emmy stepped out from the kitchen, the knife still poised. The woman screamed. “Who the hell are you?” Emmy asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Please, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. I’m just the housekeeper,” the gray-haired woman said as she backed toward the door, her hands raised.

  “Me?” Emmy turned her head and saw the blade. She lowered it. “No worries. I’m just Buddy’s, uh, friend.”

  “You’re not a burglar?”

  Emmy laughed. “Nope. Not a burglar.”

  “His girlfriend?” The woman stared at the shirt barely covering Emmy’s body.

  She blushed and tried to pull it down. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Well, thank the Lord! It’s about time Mr. Carruthers settled down. I’m Gertie Tremont, pleased to meet you.”

  “Emmy Meacham,” she responded. They shook hands. “No wonder this place looks so good. For a minute, I thought Buddy had changed.”

  Gertie laughed. “Oh, he’s not too bad. There are a few on the team a lot worse than Mr. Carruthers.” She shook her head.

  “You wouldn’t want to name names, would you?”

  “Don’t I know you? You look awfully familiar. It’s that green streak. I’ve seen it before.”

  Emmy ducked her head and trotted to the laundry room. “I think my clothes are ready.”

  The older woman followed. Emmy turned her face as she put her things in the dryer. Gertie handed her a dryer sheet she took from the overhead cabinet.

  “Thanks,” Emmy said, continuing to look away.

  “Got it! You’re that singer…um, uh…what’s her name?” Gertie stroked her chin and wrinkled her brow.

  “Emerald?”

  “That’s it! Emerald. You’re her, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. Outted. Discovered. You’ve got me. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I’m hiding from a crazy stalker.”

  Gertie clasped her hands together in front of her thin chest. “Mr. Buddy is keeping you safe from some lunatic? That’s so romantic.” She sighed.

  Emmy smiled. “My knight in shining armor.”

  “He’s a good man, Mr. Carruthers. Regardless of what those papers say. He’s got a sweet tooth for pretty ladies. So what? Not the worst habit to have, in my opinion.” She waved her hand and put her nose in the air.

  Emmy laughed. “Guess not, when you put it that way.”

  “Can I iron that shirt for you, Miss Emerald?”

  “Please call me Emmy.”

  “Sure thing. You can call me Gertie or Gert, if you want. I’d better get busy.”

  “What do you do for Buddy?”

  “Clean his house, do his laundry, and sometimes, I leave a casserole.”

  “You do a great job. The house is immaculate. He’s lucky to have you.”

  “I tell him that every time I see him,” Gert said, grinning. “How about some lunch? I can make us some egg salad.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Not every day I get to make lunch for a rock star. Sit down, honey. Let’s get some fresh coffee going here.” Gert busied herself in the kitchen while Emmy took a chair. “You gonna marry our boy? Get him to settle down?”

  Emmy felt blood rush to her cheeks. “Don’t know about that. I wouldn’t be buying a new hat just yet, Gert.”

  “You could do a lot worse, ya know.”

  “You got that right.”

  While Gert finished preparing lunch, Emmy slipped on her clothes. The housekeeper insisted on cleaning up, then went about her chores, leaving Emmy on her own.

  Chapter Five

  Buddy gunned his engine at the traffic light. Energy gushed through his veins like a tidal wave. He couldn’t remember when he was last this happy. After the most amazing night of his life, Emmy was home, waiting for him. He was so anxious to get to practice, he pushed the speed limit without thinking. A police car pulled up beside him.

  The cop waved. “Take it easy there, Buddy.”

  He raised his hand and eased his foot off the gas. Pays to be known in this town.

  Time would pass quickly once he started moving on
the field. Scrimmage, practice, working out—it all stood in the way of him spending precious moments with the love of his life. The sooner he got started, the faster it would be over.

  He bounced into the locker room all smiles. He was greeted with a loud cheer, a round of applause, and a bunch of snickers, to boot. His gaze sought Bullhorn Brodsky, who was hiding behind Trunk Mahoney, biggest offensive linebacker on the team. But Buddy spotted him. “Thanks a lot, Bull.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”

  “We’d beat him to death if he didn’t tell us you just shacked up with the hottest babe on the planet,” Trunk said.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Buddy murmured.

  “You really know her, in the biblical sense?” Tony asked.

  “Shut up, Tony. This is nobody’s business. And nobody’s supposed to know where she is…Bull!”

  “I’m sorry, Buddy. It was too big a secret.”

  “So, when are you inviting us over to meet her?” Devon Drake asked, pulling his cleats out of his locker.

  “What? Never.”

  “Aw come on, Buddy! She kissed me, you know.” Bullhorn blushed as he faced his teammates. “On the lips, too.”

  The decibels of the whistles that screamed through the room was deafening.

  “No. Not happening. No way.”

  “Way, Buddy, way. We’re coming over,” Trunk said, throwing his towel in the dirty towel bin.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Are we coming over?” Bull asked in his loud voice, moving his gaze from man to man and nodding his head.

  “Yeah!” The cheer was deafening and unanimous.

  Buddy snatched his helmet up and ran out. Damn it. They’ll ruin everything.

  After a short session with Coach Bass, the men went onto the field to warm up. The sun was bright and the sky blue. Buddy’s mood cleared up, and the happiness in his heart lifted his spirits. He focused on running and catching Griff’s passes and returning punts by Robbie Anthony. After an hour, they had the scrimmage. Buddy was invincible. He caught everything.

  Afterward, he stripped off his clothes as fast as possible and headed for the showers. While scrubbing his hair, he heard Bullhorn’s distinctive voice. “Can’t wait to get laid, huh, Buddy?”