Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys) (32 page)

Cassandra drove like a NASCAR pro, talking while pointing out places in San Diego, and managed to get them to the stadium before the bus pulled up. She walked Cory through the visitor’s entrance where family and guests went in.

“Don’t ever let them talk you into going through the main gates. If that happens, you phone Robin, the Devils’ secretary. Text me your number and I’ll send you our list of contacts.” Cassandra handed Cory her phone. “My number is right there.” She pointed to her cell screen.

They had two choices of where to sit: up in the skybox, or down in the special guest seating, as close to the field as possible. It was on the side of the end zone, overlooking the field, and at that angle, they’d be able to see lots going on.

“Your choice,” Cassandra said when they reached the place where the stairs headed in different directions. Up or down? Cory wanted to feel the excitement of the crowd and see things as close up as possible. If Brett’s mom couldn’t make it, she wanted him to have someone to look over at from the field. Up in the skybox…what would be the point?

“Field. As close as possible,” she replied.

“Cool.” Cassandra squeezed Cory’s arm. “This is going to be lots of fun, hanging out with you. I can already tell you aren’t the type to stay quietly in your seat.”

“You won’t mind that I yell and make a fool of myself?”

“I’m going to be right there with you, screaming my head off,” Cassandra warned.

Soon enough the players walked out onto the field wearing their warm-up gear. “Heard this was a killer week for them. Not all of them will start.” Cassandra removed a pair of binoculars from her bag. “But our guys came through like champs.”

It had taken hours, but Cassandra had given her a summarized education on what went on during game day and set her mind to rest about the wild parties. Her husband absolutely did not go out alone to clubs. There wasn’t any discussion. She had a rule: if he could do it, so could she.

She winked at Cory. “My husband is so overprotective, the one time we did go out separately, when we were first dating, he ended up coming to the club where I was. Poor man embarrassed himself when he threatened to deck the guy I was dancing with. Colin nearly died when he found out Sid was my cousin. My very gay and married cuz. We still laugh about it. Or at least I do.”

“Brett has that streak too.”

“We all have that in common being from the Lone Star State. I can tell by the way you’re smiling and not talking, I think that streak must run pretty deep with your man as well.”

“It does. Texas deep.” Cory blushed from her toes up to her hairline.

“Texans,” Cassandra muttered, and they both chuckled.

The field started to fill up, with stadium staff scurrying to set up for the game, camera crews, team personnel, and finally the time came for the entire team to enter the stadium. Cassandra shook a bright red pompom and gave one to her. “Get something that your guy can track and find you. I shake these. Easy to see.”

“Where’d you get these?” Cory asked.

“I was a cheerleader. For the Devils. That’s how Colin and I met. I was in nursing school. Senior year, and still kept up with the cheerleading.”

“Goodness, the stories you must have to tell.”

“Some. Unfortunately, not all are worth repeating. It’s hard when you see behind the scenes. It’s not all glamour, fun, and games.”

“I bet.”

“Okay. Here we go. Wish us luck,” Cassandra hooted.

“Lots and lots of luck,” Cory whispered and silently said a prayer to keep Brett safe, and for his team.

They won the coin toss and Cory kept her eyes on Brett. The way he moved. His ability to be right where the ball came. The first touchdown and he made it. It was across the field from where they were but she and Cassandra were out of their seats, screaming and hugging each other. After the second quarter was over, Cory drank a soda to cool her burning throat. The halftime show was ready to begin, and then she noticed Brett walking onto the field, over to the area right in front of where they sat. He got down on one knee. Cameras zoomed in on him as he stretched out his arm, with his enclosed fist directly in front of him featured on the massive video screens positioned on either side of the stadium. Slowly, he opened his fingers and revealed a small black box. The hairs all over Cory’s body rose.

“Corinth Hera McLemore, make me the happiest man. Marry me.” He smiled up at her.

Her eyes stung. She didn’t know what to say. Her whole future had once laid undecided. Not a good or bad thing, just unmanned. It always seemed so far away, yet with him, her world stopped spinning out of control. He was her anchor, even though they seemed to be miles apart at times. No matter where they were, she felt at home when they were together.

The crowds yelled out, “Well?”

“Answer him!”

“Say yes!”

“Yes!” Cory called out. Standing up, she blew a kiss to him. She yelled again, blinking back tears, “Yes!”

A security guard was next to her seat. “Miss McLemore,” he said. “If you’d like, I’m here to take you to the field.”

She turned to Cassandra. “I can’t believe him.”

Cassandra hugged her. “You’d better go. Otherwise, that crazy tight end will come up here and cart you off.”

CHAPTER 25

On Monday, Brett had telephoned Wade McLemore asking permission to marry Cory. Then after practice, he’d visited a jeweler and bought her an engagement ring. A large solitaire and if Cory wanted something different, he was assured she could bring it back and select another, or have one designed. He’d kept it with him during the week. Took it out and looked at it whenever he got the chance, and it felt right. This day. A few quick phone calls and the GM loved the idea. Thought it was perfect to set the tone of the game and spike fan response.

All that didn’t play into his popping the question. He wasn’t doing it for PR. Hell, no. He wanted Cory to be his wife and to let the whole damn world know to back off. She was his. As long as she said yes.

“
Yes!
” The word echoed in his head. And then the crowd began to chant it. He couldn’t wait on the mark he was given so the cameras could get the best angle. No, he sprinted toward the stands and stood at the bottom while the guard brought Cory down the steps.

The guest seating in the All-Star Stadium had some odd stairs. Narrow and steep. He didn’t know how someone didn’t end up busting their head from slipping. No sooner had he thought it, he watched as someone reached out to Cory. The woman’s hand slipped when someone jostled her and she ended up shoving Cory. Only a few steps more to the rail, and Cory was headed downward. Fuck!

Brett positioned himself at the point right where she seemed to be headed, afraid she’d fall over the banister. They were lower than usual, mid-thigh, and—shit! She fell with such momentum she actually came crashing over the guardrail. He didn’t know what to do but open his arms and grab hold of her as she plummeted down. He stared at the woman in his arms, his heart pounding, and the crowd went wild. In seconds, the emergency crew was next to him. Other players surrounded them with stadium staff and field crews. It didn’t matter. All he could do was stare into blue heaven. The place he wanted to find himself for the next hundred years.

“You caught me,” Cory smiled, blinking away the tears from her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’d never let you fall.”

A camera crew must have caught what he said and replayed over the screens. Between camera flashes and people talking, he carried her over to a bench, and sat down with her on his lap. He circled his arms around her trembling body.

Someone tapped his shoulder. “Mr. Gold, this is yours.”

One of the emergency crew held out the velvet box. He’d dropped it to catch Cory and had forgotten about it. “Thanks.” His hand shook as he took hold of the box.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“I am. What about you?” she asked, her face filled with concern.

“Baby, I just made the best catch of my career.”

“What about your shoulder? Your ankle?”

“All good.” He kissed her trembling mouth. “Here, baby. Want to see the ring?”

Tears kept falling down her face and he wiped them away. Or tried to. “I love you, Brett. I should have told you. I wanted to…but didn’t want to interfere with your game day.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to tell me you love me. Ever. Promise?” She nodded. He opened the box and took out the ring. Amidst a crowd of onlookers, he slipped the ring on her finger.

“Fits. Perfectly,” she whispered. She lifted her gaze to him. “It’s beautiful.”

Brett kissed her mouth and then against her lips he murmured, “Just. Like. You.”

~~~

“Hey, I’m going to tunnel this down the field. Dude, can you lay your hands around it even though you don’t aim to marry this one?” Colin joked when Brett returned to the locker room.

“Lay it on me,” Brett retorted. “I’ve got a rip-roaring level of spidey sense going on today.”

Colin slapped his back. “Never seen anything like that…what a catch.”

Brett loaded up on water until it felt as though he would float back onto the field. Shit, what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to catch Cory? He refused to think more about the fluke occurrence. He’d been there and it worked out.
‘Nuf said.

Back on the field, the other team wasn’t a welcoming pack of girl scouts. Not from their unrelenting stares to their hard-hitting
unintentional
slams during blocks. No one’s imagination when the penalties started to mount. More and more players were getting injured and backups were called in to play.

Colin broke the huddle, calling for a blitz. Brett’s shoulder was starting to ache from the trouncing he’d gotten on the last play. So far, the studying, visualizations and practices had helped him stay on track. What the hell happened with some of the other players? Colin called out a play where he had to go deep and to the left. Looking around he was deep, alright—and alone. The other players on his team jerked into formation, swinging right.

Counting down, Brett held his mark then sprinted on a diagonal line halfway across the field, and then heard the whistle blow. Turning, he saw Colin had been knocked to the turf. A yellow penalty flag laid on the field and the emergency crew, along with Coach Rollins, were running onto the field. His gut twisted. He jogged back to where his teammates stood at the thirty-yard line. The referee had yet to make an announcement to the stadium.

“What happened?” he asked Hector.

“San Diego tackled him without tracking Mike or you. They knew the play. Doesn’t make sense.”

Someone blurted out
snitch
. Not loud. Didn’t have to be when said.
Snitch
carried weight and speed. If the other team had gotten their hands on their plays, the rest of the game would be a war. The Devils would be forced to scramble, hustling plays they’d not practiced. It would be a battle with everyone playing for honor. At the same time, it might be a fluke that San Diego had rushed forward so soon.

The fans clapped and whistled when Colin was assisted to his feet. From what Brett could tell, Colin didn’t need medical treatment, but it was serious enough for Drummond Sanders, the backup QB to step in.

Coach Rollins called a time-out and the offense circled around him. “Men, two more downs. Give me everything you have. We’re laying it out there for a
Sprint Left Option
along with a fake pass to shore up a breakaway. Let’s see how that runs. If we have to, we’ll do a no-huddle on the next down and go for Envy to get the ball to the zone. Questions?”

The players in the huddle shook their heads. The coach listened to one of his assistants and glanced over to Brett. “We need to gain ground. This has gone way past serious. Gold, you better be prepared to move. I don’t care if he you have to bust through San Diego’s whole defensive line...block, rush, fly.”

“Ready on go,” Brett replied. His adrenaline infused body buzzed as though geared for takeoff.

San Diego more than likely realized things weren’t going to plan. But hell, if they had information about last week’s plays, they could have the whole damn book. The Devils offense lined up and Drummond took the hike as Brett sprinted, then zigged and cut to the middle. The QB hit him with a line drive that had him backpedalling but not beyond the sideline. Hector blocked San Diego, giving Brett an escape route. Digging in his cleats, Brett spun and pushed off the turf, his target the end zone. Rushing forward, his muscles burned after sprinting over the ten yard line. So close. Another ten yards and he’d bring it on home. Then the pain tore into him before he hit the ground.

His whole body smacked downward and he rotated to keep his hold on the ball. Getting tackled was nothing new, but he wasn’t about to let the ball go. After the referee blew the whistle, Brett tossed the ball away. The turf pricked his arms and then he moved his foot, preparing to lift off the ground. Jolts of stabbing pain shot up his leg.

“You okay?” Hector asked. “Shit, Brett you were on fire.”

“Team effort,” he said, taking a deep breath.

Hector reached down and pulled him up. He held off putting weight on his ankle, and cautiously tested how much damage he’d have to deal with. “Slow,” Hector warned.

By the time he was surrounded by the assistant coaches, more and more people had arrived and were waiting on him to deliver the conclusion.

Shit. He fucking hated this part. “I’m out.”

“Let’s get Gold off the field,” the assistant coach barked, then stepped away and began rattling off commands to get the backup tight end prepped and on the field.

Brett limped off the field while scanning the stands on the opposite side of the field.
Where is she?
Nearing the sideline, he squinted until his eyes came to rest on the familiar form of heaven. A jolt of awareness unfurled from deep within him.

“Cory,” he exhaled her name. He shot his hand up toward her with a peace sign. His chest constricted with the need to get to her.
Cory
, he silently groaned again.

She waved back. Helped off the field, he took the bench and asked for a phone to use while the trainer removed his cleat and rolled down his sock. Brett unclipped his chin strap and pulled off his helmet. He licked his tongue over cracked lips. He needed something to drink. Sitting in a puddle of sweat, he downed a bottle of water someone offered to him. Then another. He crushed the bottle in his hand, then took hold of the cellphone delivered by the Devils’ field technician. He gripped it, typing in Cory’s number and ignored the work being done on his ankle when Cory’s number started to ring.