Harley Brennan, Running Back Page 9

  “Great eating,” Harley chimed in. “But can run pretty big.”

  The captain chuckled. “We’re here to help. Looks like the little lady might have a bit of difficulty landing a thirty pounder.”

  “I don’t know anything about fishing,” she said, batting her lashes at the captain. He was old enough to be her father and packed about twenty pounds too much around his middle.

  “Don’t worry, honey. You hook ’em, we’ll land ’em.” The man touched the brim of his hat and started the motor.

  Harley didn’t care if they caught anything or not. The sea was a clear, cool, translucent aqua. Light reflected off the water like handfuls of diamonds tossed across the surface. They sipped piňa coladas as the craft sliced through the sea then came to a stop.

  The first mate dropped their baited hooks in the water. “Here you go. Be ready,” he said, stepping back and taking a seat.

  The captain increased the speed until they were gently trolling through the peaceful water.

  Cassie grabbed Harley’s arm. “I’m afraid. I’ve never done this before.”

  He took her hands and wrapped them around the handle of the fishing pole then did the same with his own. The beautiful girl didn’t look so pretty with her eyeliner running as sweat beaded under her eyes. Makeup caked on her cheeks, and her lipstick had faded. The bloom was off the rose. Harley prayed that she had a great personality, as whatever physical chemistry they had had faded in the harsh Caribbean sun.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered.”

  Wouldn’t you know the first strike was on her line? She panicked.

  Harley told her what to do. “Pull up. One quick snap up of your wrists to hook him. Then, we’ll reel him in.”

  But she didn’t obey. The rod pulled out of the holder. Harley grabbed it just before it went overboard. The captain and the first mate were cursing in the background. Harley tried to save it, but it was too late. The fish had gotten away.

  As he fumbled with her rod, there was a strike on his. He grabbed it and yanked it up.

  “I’m sorry. I tried to do what you said, but I just couldn’t.” She started to cry.

  Normally, Harley would have been sympathetic, but these were crocodile tears. She was crying because she hadn’t listened and now wanted comfort. Obviously, fishing isn’t her sport. Unless she’s fishing for a husband.

  He didn’t respond, as he was too busy juggling both rods and trying to keep his fish on the line. The first mate lunged at Cassie’s rod, knocking her out of her chair and onto the deck. That made her cry harder. The captain helped her to a seat on the side, giving her a pat on the back.

  The running back’s rod was slipping through his hands, wet with sweat and sea spray. He wiped one on his suit, then the other, and closed strong fingers around the base.

  “Mr. Harley, if you can catch a football, you can pull this guy in,” the captain said.

  Harley grinned and pulled the rod toward him with one hand while cranking the reel with the other.

  When no one paid attention to Cassandra, she stopped crying.

  The first mate apologized several times. “I just didn’t want to lose the rod. These are very expensive, you know.”

  Harley laughed to himself. Like she gives a shit. The show would pay to replace it.

  The dolphin on Harley’s line wasn’t giving up. He leaped out of the air, twisting and turning, before falling back with a splash. As soon as he was airborne, Harley reeled like mad. But the fish was strong. The fight was on.

  Once the mate took the rod back inside, Cassie reclaimed her seat next to Harley and asked him a million questions. He glared at her, but she continued chattering until he lost his patience.

  “Be quiet! You’re wrecking my concentration!”

  Miffed, she got up and went into the tiny cabin. Harley couldn’t see what she was doing and didn’t care. This was the most exciting event outside of football he’d ever experienced in his life.

  The first mate slipped into Cassie’s seat. He coached Harley and encouraged him. “He’s tiring. You’ll get him. You’ll get him. Don’t give up.”

  The battle was exhilarating. After fifteen minutes, the first mate manned the rod. The captain handed Harley a big bottle of water that the athlete downed quickly. He rubbed his sore hands on his suit as he watched the experienced fisherman continue the struggle.

  Harley took over at the end. The fish finally gave up. The crew cheered. He’d totally forgotten about Cassandra. They snagged the dolphin in the net and pulled him on board.

  “I’d guess about thirty pounds,” the captain said.

  They took several pictures of Harley holding the fish, some with Cassandra and some alone. She had refreshed her makeup, drunk some water, and looked ready to go to a party.

  She eased herself into the chair next to him as the boat turned around to head back to the yacht. “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “Of course not. It’s your first time,” Harley lied, trying to smile. Why didn’t she at least try?

  “I don’t like slimy things and like, fighting, and stuff.”

  He patted her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

  But it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all. Cassandra may have dealt herself out of the mix. Harley was going to give her one more chance.

  Chapter Seven

  Back on the yacht, the crew prepared Harley’s fish for dinner. He and Cassandra stripped down to their suits and went swimming. She was afraid of sharks and other big fish and refused to stay in the sea for long by herself. She hung on Harley, babbling about man-eating fish. World’s biggest buzz kill.

  Harley dived overboard and relished the warm, salt water as he did a vigorous, Australian crawl then paddled around on his back for a bit. When he returned, Cassandra was sunning her sexy body in a lounge chair, sucking down another piňa colada, and munching on hors d’oeuvres. He noticed the staff eyeing her practically naked body with interest.

  The first mate spoke up, “You should cover up.”

  “Why?” She shot him a blank stare.

  “The Caribbean sun can be brutal.”

  Reluctantly, she donned her robe. Harley noticed the men got back to their jobs, now ignoring the guest.

  A table for two was set up on the deck. With the sun lowering on the horizon, the yacht turned around and headed for shore. Small, romantic lights in hurricane lamps cast a warm glow. Harley couldn’t help wondering how Shyla would have decorated it. He pushed that thought from his mind. Tonight was about Cassandra, and he had to remember that. They started with hearts of palm and frosty beers.

  “You like fishing?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Never been deep sea fishing here. It was great. We had terrific luck today.”

  She grimaced. “Not sure I’d call it luck.”

  “Are you kidding? That was the most exciting fishing experience I’ve ever had.”

  She frowned. “Not for me. I ended up on my butt.”

  “Sorry about that.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

  Her smile returned. “I wish we had gotten one of those romantic dates. You know, at a concert, or shopping, or a horse and buggy ride. Somewhere we could have gotten closer.” She took a gulp.

  Shyla would have loved this date. She’d have reeled in that fish herself. Well, maybe not herself, but she would have tried. Why didn’t you try, Cassie?

  “This is kind of a loser date.” When she realized what she’d said, she put her hand on his arm. “Not that you’re a loser. I mean the place. The date. You know what I mean. I wish I could have traded dates with Cathy. She’s tomboyish enough to appreciate this.”

  “You think she’s boyish?”

  Cassie laughed. “Well, sort of. She doesn’t wear much makeup. Doesn’t even own eyeliner. Can you imagine?”

  Yeah. I can. Neither does Shyla. “I like natural girls.”

  “I’m natural where it counts.” She gave him a lusty look.

  Harley’s eyes wide
ned, and there was a twitch between his legs. No. Don’t go there. He lowered his gaze to his food.

  “We have the boat until eight, right? Then, a nightcap and the heart at the hotel?”

  He nodded, chewing a piece of mahi-mahi. “God, this is great. Can’t get fresher than this.”

  “I’m not much for fish. Except shellfish, of course. And in a good salad. Cathy is much more of a game type girl. She would’ve loved this date. She’s more robust than I am. You know what I mean. More meat on the bones?”

  He’d had enough of her dissing Cathy and complaining. When he looked at her, instead of a temptress, he saw a pretty, whiney baby. They returned to the hotel and downed a small glass of Drambuie. Then, it was time for the heart. Harley knew what to do, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  “Cassie, I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t give you the heart. I don’t think we’re a good match.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, babe. It’s not happening for me. I like girls who are into adventure.”

  She pushed his hand away as big tears gathered in her eyes. Harley stood to make a hasty retreat before she hit him. Greg appeared as if by magic.

  “I’m sorry, Cassandra. This way, please.” He stood between her and Harley, who was grateful to have the host running interference. He took the hint and headed for his room. In the lobby, he saw three of the women, so he ducked into the stairwell and climbed to the third floor.

  Once inside, he flopped down on the bed. He silently made a vow to buy Greg Carson a drink. He owed the man for making that so easy. Harley picked up his phone then put it down. Not fair to call Shy.

  Gloom surrounded him. He’d be sending home another woman the next night, which would leave him three. He’d already decided to keep Vanessa and Cathy. Looked like Melanie might get the third slot. And if he heard anymore backbiting, like Cassie had about Cathy, he’d send her home immediately.

  He undressed, slipped under the covers and lay there, resting his head on his arm. He wondered what Shyla was doing. I have to stop thinking about her. She’s probably on a new job already, flirting with the producer, and I’m the furthest thing from her mind. He tried to convince himself she didn’t care for him, but he wasn’t successful.

  He prayed he’d get engaged before she did. He didn’t think he could bear it if she called and told him she was marrying someone else. And he refused to think about how she’d feel if he made that same phone call to her.

  * * * *

  Harley was surprised to find it was easier to whittle down the women to the final three than he had expected. He’d picked Vanessa, Cathy, and Melanie, a buxom brunette with green eyes. She laughed at all his jokes and seemed kind of jolly. A happy woman might be easier to live with, he reasoned. Reminded him of how Shyla made him laugh, even in bed. When the pressure was on for an important game, he’d call her up, and she’d have him chuckling before two minutes passed.

  The show had flown them to a ranch in Nevada. The foursome hung out in the pool, even the hot tub, though he was careful to avoid it late at night. The three ladies appeared to get along.

  The time to be totally honest had arrived. Harley had to reveal more of himself—what he wanted, what kind of life he saw for himself and his future wife. After a calf roping fiasco, Melanie went home with a sprained ankle and a grumpy disposition. Harley had hated to say goodbye to her. He had teared up, knowing he was hurting her and that she had gotten injured on this adventure and couldn’t continue. If he had known she was the one, that would have been the time to speak up. But she wasn’t, so he’d hid his tears and hugged her longer than the others.

  Now, he was down to two. Vanessa, with her raven locks, red lips, and melted chocolate brown eyes, had an elegant beauty that took his breath away. Cathy, a bouncy redhead, with curly hair and bright, blue eyes, had a lusty grin that turned him on.

  This choice was going to be difficult. Greg Carson corralled him and escorted him to a private room for a drink and a chat. The running back noticed the cameras didn’t follow.

  Greg raised his glass. “To you, Harley. Damn, you actually made it to the final two women. Hell, we didn’t think you’d last.”

  “Have a pool on it?”

  “To be honest, yes. So far, Sarah is winning.”

  Harley grunted a smile. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “We were wondering how you’re feeling? Are you leaning toward one over the other?”

  “Maybe. I’m waiting for that overnight date.”

  “Hmm. I see. We want to make sure you’re happy. Don’t want you to make a mistake.”

  “But if I said I didn’t want to propose to either girl, you’d be pretty unhappy about that, wouldn’t you?”

  Greg shifted in his seat. He frowned. “Well, we don’t want to push you, but…”

  “Yeah. I know. I’ve had plenty of chances. Don’t worry. I’m not going to crap out.”

  A smile brightened the host’s face. He brushed a few drops of sweat from his forehead with a napkin. “When the man doesn’t pick a wife, it kills the ratings. Dan has a complete meltdown.”

  They were interrupted by Sarah. “Time to pack. We’re on to New York City for the final segments. Your overnight date will be at the Plaza Hotel. The two women drew straws, and you get Cathy first. Let’s go.” She was gone as fast as she had come.

  Harley headed to his room. He dialed Mark on the way. When the quarterback answered, Harley explained to him what was up.

  “We’re going to be in New York for a couple of weeks with the baby.”

  “Good. Maybe I can stop by for some advice.”

  Mark laughed. “You ask me for advice about women? You’re the expert. The Master. I bow to your superiority.”

  “Fuck you. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Not like it’s the first time. By the way, Shyla’s staying with us.”

  “In Delaware?”

  “Yeah. We’ll take her when we drive up to New York tomorrow. Thought you might want to know where she is. Have you talked to her?”

  “I haven’t. Don’t know what to say. I left a voicemail apology. What else is there? Does she have a new job?”

  “Not that she’s told me about. I’d think there’s a lot more to say,” Mark said.

  “If she and I are ever going to split for good, continuing conversation may not be such a good idea.”

  “Finish it then, Harley, and move on.”

  “She’s just as guilty as I am.”

  “Has she called you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then, I’d say it’s finished on her side.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I gotta go. Stop by. We’re home all the time now, with the baby.”

  Mark hung up. Harley thought about his friend’s words as he packed for the trip east.

  New York is lovely in May. After he settled into his room, Harley headed out of the hotel and turned left on Fifth Avenue, away from the stores. In order to focus on his life and not be distracted, he directed his feet to the west side of the street, along Central Park. He knew the City well, having been with the Kings for several years and the Delaware Demons before that. Off-season, he’d often taken trips to the City with Mark when they had been single, looking for women and partying into the night.

  He checked his watch. Five minutes to noon. As he approached the entrance to the Children’s Zoo at 68th Street, he smiled. The Delacorte Clock would be chiming and the animal sculpture would be rotating on the hour. He quickened his steps to be in time.

  As the hands hit twelve, the music began to play. The bronze figures playing instruments rotated around, then the monkey swung his mallet and hit the gong twelve times, to chime the hour. He smiled, recalling the first time he’d watched something so wondrous that had weathered many New York cold and rainy seasons. He found it as enchanting now as he had then.

  When it was done, he continued his walk through Central Park. The trees were bursting with new blooms a
nd colorful flowers graced planters. After another hour in the fresh air and dazzling light, Harley strolled back to the Plaza. It was time to shower and change. He had a dinner date with Cathy.

  He had no clue whether she’d stay the night with him, but he hoped she would. To determine if the fun-loving redhead was the girl for him, they needed to step away from the cameras and be alone together. Harley wanted to see her with her guard down—when the whole world wasn’t looking—even if it didn’t include sex.

  He’d loved her free-spirited attitude. She was up for anything, or so she said. They’d gone to an amusement park in L. A., parasailing in St. Thomas, and then the calf-roping in Nevada. Cathy had been an enthusiastic partner in each adventure. She was a little stockier than Vanessa, and seemed more comfortable in riding boots or jeans than an evening gown, but her cheery, positive attitude made their times together fun.

  Of course, there was always the hope that her enthusiasm carried over to the bedroom. He hoped for a lusty night with the cheerful lass. But he knew enough not to count on it.

  They began their date in the late afternoon with a stroll through Central Park and tea and scones at The Boathouse. He took her hand as they wandered along paths winding across open fields and through leafy glades. The spring air was cool, requiring light jackets. Sunlight peeked out from puffy clouds from time to time, only to hide again.

  “If you could live anywhere, where would you choose?” he asked her.

  “Good question.” She glanced at him then away, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. “Colorado, I guess.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Colorado? Interesting choice. How come?”

  “Skiing in the winter and hiking in the mountains in the summer.”

  He nodded. Cathy made no bones about being an athletic, outdoorsy girl who liked to be active. He found that appealing. But living in Colorado wasn’t on his bucket list. Maybe he could be persuaded?

  “What about you?” She shot the question back into his court.

  He chuckled. “Actually, I’ve never thought about it. I like living in Connecticut. It’s got some small mountains—guess you’d call them foothills if you’re comparing them to the Rockies. A bit of skiing, definitely hiking, and close to the City too.”