Sinners Football 01- Goals for a Sinner (14 page)

He slowly turned his head again, back and forth, without comment.

“The photo credits go to Dexter Sykes in case you want to beat him up or something. I’d be happy to help you,” Joe Dean offered magnanimously.

“Can’t kill a man for creating a thing of beauty, Joe. Bring all your extra copies over to my place tonight. I don’t want you slobbering over Stevie while Amber is out of town.”

“Done. I’ll see if I can find some nice redfish to grill with peppers and onions.”

“Sounds good. Better than that hospital crap I’ve been eating.”

“Billodeaux!” came a shout from the trainer who had been working on some bad knees at the other end of the gym. “Get your ass out of here and stop distracting my patient.”

“I’m a gone pecan.” Joe Dean winked at Connor as he walked out.

****

To Stevie, Connor seemed exhausted, but he sat with a cold beer in one hand and watched with good humor as Joe Dean forked over hot dogs to Kevin’s children and served grilled redfish fillets sprinkled with Cajun seasoning and nested in sautéed green peppers and onions to the adults. The kids wolfed their food and ran riotously over the lawn. They called to Uncle Connor to come play football with
them.

Connor shook his head and took another piece of garlic bread from the basket. “Not tonight, guys.

They worked me too hard today.” Stevie looked over at Kris Riley who sat across the table from her. Connor’s mother whispered.

“He’s eating well.” Stevie nodded, swallowing her concern along with a gulp of a nice, crisp white wine.

“Let me turn off the grill and I’ll take you on,” Joe Dean offered. He caught the small purple and gold LSU football Collin tossed to him and charged after the children.

Merrilee, bulging in the last month of her pregnancy, rested her hands on her stomach and burped genteelly behind her hand. “He must have been a hyperactive child.”

“No doubt,” agreed Kris Riley.

“He told me he had ten nephews and nieces from his four married sisters so I can understand why he’s good with kids. He can cook. From all the women who pursue him, I bet he has no trouble in the sex department. Why isn’t this man married?” added Stevie.

“He wants to follow in Joe Namath’s footsteps and marry when he’s forty, I think. He’ll settle down when he’s too old to play, he told me once,” Connor replied. He yawned.

“Maybe we should declare this evening over,” Stevie suggested.

Merrilee frowned. “You’ve had Connor all to yourself for months. How about giving us some time?

We were very worried about him.”

“Hey, I’m fine. Let the kids play awhile and give Joe Dean some exercise,” Connor insisted.

They ended the evening with ice cream sundaes.

Joe Dean was the last to leave. He sat provocatively licking chocolate syrup off of his spoon while Connor walked the family to their cars and helped pack the children into their seats.

“Connor show you the swimsuit issue?” he asked Stevie.

“Yes,” she said tersely.

“You got nothing to be ashamed of. From what I saw, you were right up there with the rest of the models.”

“Four years ago. Look, Dex and I took a vacation to Mexico. We rented one of those rubber boats and found a secluded beach for a picnic. He wanted to try his hand at that kind of photography. I wanted to help him out. After all, I took skin shots of Marcello for his modeling portfolio. It was business. He never showed the pictures to anyone as far as I knew…until now. I could kill him for taking advantage of me and Connor
 
.
 
Did you see the caption?
Photographer Stevie Dowd, who took the
 
riveting pictures of the Super Bowl spearing incident
 
injuring Connor Riley, performs just as well on the
 
other end of the camera
. Now I know what those release forms were that Dex was so eager to get me to sign.”

“Hey, Connor is cool with it. He probably likes thinking he has you and no other man does. You done any, ah…you two been intimate since he got out of the hospital?” Joe Dean wiggled his dark eyebrows and grinned suggestively. He licked his spoon again.

“No. He can’t possibly be ready for that yet.”

“Well, sugar, don’t let it wait too long. A man needs to have self-confidence to play and having sex is one thing that gives it to you. I can swear to that.”

“But Connor won’t play again, I’m sure. How can he after an injury like that?” Stevie asked.

“Stevie girl, why do you think all the trainers and therapists are swarming all over Connor? It’s not just because they want to help. Connor Riley, unlike me, was a first-round draft pick, and he stayed with the Sinners for big bucks when he could have gone free agent. He is a high-priced investment, and they’ll have to pay out his contract whether he plays or not. He’ll be back on the field come fall.”

“No. Impossible.” Stevie denied what she heard.

“He could die or be paralyzed.”

“Mark my words, Stevie Dowd, Connor Riley will play again. I took an oath to St. Jude that I’m already beginning to regret the closer the season gets to guarantee that.”

“I don’t think I can bear it if he does.”

“No way to stop him.”

“I can try,” she answered, making a vow of her own.

Chapter Fourteen

He and Stevie were out of sync, Connor thought.

Though if he stopped dozing off in the Jacuzzi or falling asleep when she massaged the sore muscles inflicted on him by the trainers, things might be different. By the time he woke up with a hard-on, Stevie had tucked herself in for the night. She often wore the turquoise tank suit she considered saggy and unflattering, but always reminded him of the first time they had been together. She slept in the guest bedroom unless he was awake enough to ask her to stay by his side.

Hell, they’d eaten the chocolate mousse out of the bowl using spoons in the kitchen. When Stevie offered him some on her spoon tip, he’d turned his face aside because her action caused a major hospital stay flashback. He should have scooped some mousse onto his finger and let her lick it off. As his flaccid muscles regained their strength, he knew he had to take charge before Stevie thought of herself as his nurse, not his lover.

When the Rev called to let him in on some news, Connor asked him to visit. “And bring that lady doctor you are so in love with,” he added.

“Trouble with Stevie?” asked the Rev.

“Yep. She needs some medical advice, I think, so bring the doc with you.”

The couple drove down on a Sunday afternoon, a day of rest for Connor from the torment of therapists, and shared their good tidings as they sat on the deck overlooking the lake.

“Number one, I got my fine self traded to the Sinners to beef up that pitiful defense they got,” the Rev bragged.

“You mean the pitiful defense that almost won a Super Bowl?” Connor fired back. “You just wanted a chance at a ring yourself.”

“Naw, I missed my mama’s cooking and my Mintay, but the money offer wasn’t bad neither.”

“Either, Rev. I was there the night your mother chewed you out for doing the ghetto speak all the time. She said to him, ‘Revelation Jeremiah Bullock, you have a college education and a retired English teacher for a mother. Please speak correctly.’” Dr.

Arminta Green gave an unprofessional giggle.

“Aw, Mintay, the other boys will beat me up if I don’t talk cool. That’s what I always told my mama when I was a kid.” The Rev grinned back at his lady love. Dr. Green, a slim café-au-lait-colored woman, wore her light brown hair parted in the middle, ends turned under at the chin line, a no nonsense, practical do for a busy doctor, and one that framed the fine heart-shape of her face beautifully. The small gold hoops in her ears were tasteful and not likely to get in her way when examining a patient, but they also showed off her small ears lying close against her skull and accented her skin tone well.

Mintay’s green eyes were startling and unexpected beneath her dark lashes. Fine-boned, high-cheeked, and classy, it would have taken three of her to make up the bulk of the Rev. Today instead of white, the doctor dressed in a coral-colored knit top, khaki slacks and sandals with a pattern of colorful beads drawing attention to her long toes and polished nails.

“She’s as bossy as my mama but can’t fry a chicken.” The Rev continued to smile wide and toothy.

“As if I would ever fry anything for you,” Dr.

Green retorted.

“She’s been working on my mama, too. Now her greens taste—well—green without the fatback. Lard was my mama’s cooking secret, and Mintay’s done taken that away.” The Rev sighed. “I dropped ten pounds in the last month. I keep telling her being big is part of my job. I have to make sure the Sinners get their money’s worth.”

“By the pound?” Arminta asked sharply. “I probably added ten years to your life by converting your mother away from lard.”

Connor held up a hand for peace. “Rev, you know you pack it on during the off-season eating your mama’s cooking, and the trainers will make sure you lose the extra during camp. Today’s menu is barbecued chicken, a big salad—with croutons, Rev—and baked potatoes without sour cream. Tell Stevie the rest of your news.”

“Dr. Arminta Green has consented to be my wife.” The Rev picked up his fiancée’s slim hand and engulfed it with his. “We’re going into the city tomorrow to pick out a ring.”

“I caught him off-guard. He’s been asking me at least twice a month since we met in December.

Being a professional football player, I figured he just wanted to get in my pants,” Arminta explained.

“Aw no, honey. I never asked another woman to be my bride. You gotta know that. Besides, I’m marrying a doctor. My mama is so proud.”

“The man gave up lard for me. When he signed that contract to come home to Louisiana to give us more time together, well, I had to say yes.” Dr.

Green extended an arm that barely reached around the Rev’s shoulders to give her man a hug. He enfolded her in his huge arms and pulled her close.

They exchanged a kiss for a few seconds too long.

Connor began to feel envious—and horny. He interrupted their clinch. “Say, Rev, did you see the pictures of Stevie in the swimsuit issue? I got that Sykes guy to send me poster-sized enlargements.”

“You didn’t!” Stevie gasped.

“Did,” said Connor. “Come inside and let me show them to you. The ladies can stay out here and talk about rings and things.” He gave the Rev a significant nod and led the way into the house.

Not too subtly, Connor was leaving her alone with the doctor. Still, embarrassed, Stevie hurried to explain about the cheesecake pictures. “Those were taken years ago. I turn thirty in November. You know I don’t have the same body now, Dr. Green.”

“Please call me Arminta, or even Mintay. I guess I’m stuck with that nickname forever now. I don’t think Connor is making comparisons. He’s proud of you, and I’d say in love with you.” Stevie looked out over the lake and let her eyes follow a sailboat being pushed along by the kind of breeze that would bring in thunderstorms later in the afternoon. Late May temperatures in the high eighties built clouds on the horizon.

“You don’t feel the same way?” Dr. Green pressed.

“It’s not that I don’t. I have a poor track record with men. They either leave me, or as in the last case, I throw them out. And you said yourself, a professional football player, how good a risk is that?”

“There are exceptions. I’m marrying one.”

“Connor is exceptional, too. I think he is the best man I have ever known—fond of his family, honest, good-natured when he’s not hurting, courageous and loyal. I’m afraid all that courage and loyalty might be reserved for football. How can I get deeply involved with him again when I don’t believe I can stand to watch him play after this injury?”

“Yet here you are. You must care for him.”

“I do.”

“Stevie, I know cases of professional skiers who have had injuries like this, healed, gone right back to their sport and performed well. They have the kind of personalities that won’t let them give up or back down. Playing again is something Connor probably has to do for himself. Taking a chance on Connor Riley is something you have to do. A little sex isn’t going to hurt him and it might help. All those good hormones rushing around, you know.” Doctor Green paused. She watched a powerful ski boat pass leaving a milky wake behind. Her mind went elsewhere for a moment. She took a large swallow from the chilled glass of white wine she held. “Is this about sex or about love?” Stevie caught the doctor’s attention again. “Because I might have had this same conversation with a certain quarterback not too long ago. Did Connor put you up to this?”

“Rev asked me to reassure you about Connor’s injuries and his feelings towards you. I couldn’t help but notice Connor Riley is a big, handsome man. If he wanted sex he could take it or go out and find it fairly easily. He could make a call and have it delivered. If he takes the time to set all this up with a doctor who is engaged to a football player, there is more going on than just sex, believe me.”