Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (5 page)

Richard heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I’m
trying. Big animals like that scare me.”

He didn’t exactly like the small ones
either, but Estie held her tongue. “You just weren’t raised with
them. You’ll learn to love them.”

“It’s you I love, not a slobbering elephant
that spreads hair around like a…” Richard snapped his mouth shut,
as if realizing he’d said too much.

“Sit,” Estie ordered. Dozer sat, whined and
shook his head, splattering more drool on Richard’s pants. Not to
be ignored, Marilyn, her old, diva golden retriever, shoved her
nose around her leg to greet their guest. Estie pushed them back
inside the house and slammed the door shut on them. “Sorry, they’re
hungry.”

Richard tried to ignore them. “Golf with
me.”

“I’m going to the game. Let’s meet for
dinner afterward.”

“I have plans.” Richard’s lips tightened
into a thin line. She braced herself for one of his
passive-aggressive guilt trips, only he squared his jaw, turned on
his heel with a dramatic flair, and stomped off. And could that man
stomp.

With heavy sigh, Estie closed the door and
knelt down to hug her furry friends. Dozer ran his slobbery tongue
across her cheek and panted in her face with his doggy breath.
Marilyn pressed against her side and almost knocked her over. They
gave her comfort, the kind of comfort she’d once received from
Richard, though he’d never been the demonstrative type.

Not like other men. Not like— her thoughts
detoured to a pair of pale blue eyes and a kind smile. Brett. She’d
been thinking about him more and more. In fact, too much for an
engaged woman. He was just so nice and kind.

The day her father died her world had
collapsed, burying all her dreams. She’d been daddy’s girl, and
he’d been the only member of the family who’d truly believed in
her.

He’d died tragically when she’d been in
college, taking with him her rock and her support. She’d spiraled
into a well of grief and despair. Richard swooped in and picked up
the pieces. He’d been there every step of the way, holding her
hand, helping her mother make arrangements, and dragging her
grieving brother out of bars in the middle of the night. As Estie
stumbled blindly through the next several months, he steered her
through the despair and never judged her.

She’d been a strong-willed woman before her
father’s death, but she’d fallen apart afterward, and Richard had
become the strong one for a time. She couldn’t have made it without
him.

She owed him her loyalty.

* * * * *

Estie settled into her seat in the owner’s
skybox. Binoculars in hand, she lifted them to her face and scanned
the team doing warm-ups on the field below. She spotted Brett
instantly. Even though he was shorter than everyone but the
kickers, he was actually easy to find. He stood in the front of the
group as they went through their pre-game stretches in the same
place Tyler used to stand. She felt a twinge of sympathy for her
competitive brother, who had to hate not being in the game.

And why the hell was she even seeking out
Brett?

Her formidable older sister slid into the
seat next to her, a flurry of Lumberjacks Navy parka and expensive
perfume. Fredrika “Freddie” Harris tossed her coat over an empty
chair and sank into the plush seat. She glanced around. “Where’s
Veronica?”

“Not here yet. Neither is Mr. Sims.” The
billionaire Sims owned the team, and his daughter Veronica managed
personnel. Most people considered Veronica even scarier than
Freddie, but Estie considered it a toss-up.

Estie lifted her binoculars, ignoring her
sister. Even though Estie preferred to watch the game in the seats
a few rows up from the field, Freddie loved her luxury, and Freddie
always got her way. As the middle child, Estie grew up in the
unenviable position of trying to please both of her strong-willed,
selfish siblings, and she still played that role, even though she
came across as the same type of bad-ass as her sister to most
outsiders.

Freddie heaved several annoyed sighs, and
Estie lowered her binoculars. Her sister hated it when she wasn’t
the focus of everyone’s attention. “How’s Ty?”

Freddie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Pissed
as hell, restless, and just being a total shit. Lavender gave him a
painkiller, which knocked him out for a while so I decided to come
to the game.”

“When is he going to put a ring on her
finger?”

“Good question. If he doesn’t do something
about it soon, I’ll have to kick his ass, or even better his
damaged knee.”

“I’ll help. You and I are brutal
together.”

“Don’t you forget it, little sis.” Freddie
grinned and tossed her glossy, long dark hair off her shoulders.
People said they looked like twins, but Freddie’s beauty turned
every head in the room.

Richard was one of Freddie’s rejects, not
that Freddie kept any man for long. She was almost as bad as their
brother B.L.—Before Lavender. A real heartbreaker, that was her
sister. And while she was breaking their hearts, she busted their
balls as well. Nothing soft and sweet about Fredrika Harris.

Hell, was there anything soft and sweet
about any of the Harris kids? They’d been raised to be strong,
smart, and ambitious, and so they were, each in their own way, and
almost to the exclusion of not taking the time to enjoy the
journey. Or so Estie believed. Yet they swept her along in their
maniacal quest to conquer the next proverbial mountain. She’d been
tagging along after them for so long she rarely thought to question
it.

“Well, crap.” Freddie slammed her fist into
the armrest, effectively jerking Estie back to the stadium. “That
idiot, couldn’t they do better than him for a backup?”

Brett walked off the field, fists clenched,
frustration written in every stiff movement, while the Giants
danced on his grave in the end zone.

“What happened?”

“He threw another interception. Haven’t you
been watching? Or are you too caught up in your wedding plans?”

Estie rolled her eyes, unable to help
herself. “Something like that.” She avoided Freddie’s dissecting
gaze and hid her eyes behind the binocs. Brett stood on the
sideline consulting with the coaches, nodding and grimacing. His
determined expression reminded her a bit of a quarterback brother
of hers. No quit in Tyler and no quit in Brett either, even if he
did get a little beaten down. Now if only the coaches could infuse
some of Tyler’s blind luck into Brett.

Freddie continued to mumble and cuss under
her breath about Brett, while Estie gritted her teeth and held her
tongue, ready to jump to Brett’s defense even though she wasn’t
sure why. Halftime came and went with a seven-seven tie. Nothing
much happened until Bruiser fumbled the ball on the Jacks’
twenty-two, the Giants recovered, and scored on the next drive.

Seven-Fourteen.

“Gunnels is so short he can’t see over his
line.” Freddie bitched as Brett took a particularly nasty sack.

“His line isn’t in sync with him. They don’t
know what to expect like they did with Ty. They’ll figure it out.”
Estie shot back, as she grabbed a napkin and wiped the sweat ring
from her drink off the small table in front of her. She folded the
used napkin into a tidy little square and placed it under the
glass.

“Are you blind? They can’t hold the Giants
off all day. He’s taking too long and not finding the open
receiver.”

“Brett’s doing as good a job as can be
expected. He didn’t have the luxury of weeks of training camp to
get in sync with his guys. It takes time, and he’ll get there. He’s
determined, and he has what it takes.” She ignored her sister’s
dissecting gaze. As Estie spoke a Giants linebacker flushed Brett
out of the pocket and sacked him for another big loss.

And it didn’t get much better after
that.

The Jacks lost twenty-four to seven. Their
record was now nine and five. One more loss, and it’d be tough for
them to win the division or get home-field advantage, leaving them
battling for a wildcard berth.

After the game Estie shook off her sister
and wandered down to the locker room, slipping past security
because she was Tyler’s sister. She told herself she was only doing
it to update Ty’s teammates, but who was she fooling?

One by one the guys left the locker room,
pausing to chat with her about Ty. Several promised to stop by and
see him. She’d just about given up when Brett came out of the
locker room, his sandy brown hair wet from a recent shower and a
grim expression plastered on his face.

“Hey,” she said, stepping from the
shadows.

He glanced up, and surprise crossed his
features, then a smile, a very happy smile. He looked glad to see
her. “Hey.”

Estie found herself smiling back. “Rough
game.” What else do you say to a guy whose quarterback rating
looked more like an Arctic temperature?

“Yeah, pretty rough. We’ll figure it
out.”

“You’re doing the best you can. You haven’t
played since preseason, and my brother’s been the ironman of the
NFL, so it’s not like you get many chances.”

Brett rubbed the back of his neck and
nodded. “Yeah, I know. I have to get better, quit making rookie
mistakes like missing my reads, not seeing open men, screwing up a
handoff.”

Estie touched his arm, a gesture meant to
comfort, but instead it shot a shock of electricity through her
body, a hyperawareness of the very male man standing next to her.
Their eyes met, held, and for a moment time stopped, the world fell
away, and left only the two of them.

If they’d been standing in the middle of I-5
during rush hour, she wouldn’t have noticed the cars zipping by or
honking at them.

She sensed his steel hiding under a thin
layer of frustration. It was weird, this connection, like a thin
piece of thread, so easy to break, so tenuous, yet so there.

Estie took a step back and broke the thread.
She blinked several times in an attempt to process what just
happened. She was practical, not given to romance or nonsense.
Brett looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit she’d
noticed when he seemed nervous or contemplating something.

“How about we forget football for a while
and get something to eat? I’m starved and I bet you are, too.”
Estie said the last words in a rush because if she paused for a
breath it’d give her time to think about how stupid she was for
asking.

Brett hesitated for a split second. “Sounds
great.” His crooked smile nudged at her heart. “I’d like that.”

Oh, so would she. So would she.

* * * * *

Brett followed Estie into a dark, little
Italian restaurant several streets up from Seattle’s waterfront.
Holding the door open for her, he paused inside and glanced around
the room for any angry Jacks fans who might ruin the one good thing
about this day—being with Estie.

An older couple enjoying a glass of wine sat
at the only occupied table. The lone waiter ushered them to an
intimate table in the back. Around the cozy room, candles
flickered, making it way too romantic for a couple who should be
anything but.

They consulted and agreed on a bottle of
wine, and as was becoming par for the course, found they loved the
same type. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was like God made
this woman for him. Only he couldn’t have her. Look but don’t
touch. Damn, it was tough. Not only was he doing a lot of looking,
but his imagination was running wild when it came to touching. Even
her hands were sexy with those pink nails.

She
almos
t made him forget about his
shitty game.

Oh, God, but now that he remembered, even
Estie’s beautiful face couldn’t completely negate the rest of his
day.

Brett stared hard at the menu without seeing
it. He’d get his life figured out, starting first with
football—because right now all that could matter to him was
football. He’d spent too much time this past week with his mind
elsewhere, and today’s game reflected his misplaced priorities. He
had a shot, a shot to prove them all wrong, a shot to show the NFL
what he could do given the chance, and today he’d taken that chance
and shot himself in the foot.

“Brett?”

He glanced up and stared into those
sapphire-blue eyes. Her concerned gaze flipped a switch inside him,
turning off his ability to keep his distance. “Yes?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He frowned, feeling like he’d missed the
point of this conversation. “About what?”

“The game.” She sipped her wine and studied
him over the rim of the glass.

“Not much to talk about other than I have
some work to do.” Now there was an understatement.

“You had some good moments. Trust me, I know
football.”

That he didn’t doubt. After all, she was
Harris’s sister. “And those would be?”

“You’re staying in the pocket the majority
of the time, not getting flushed out too soon. You played one of
the top five defenses, and your receivers had a hell of a time
getting open.” She leaned on the table, candlelight flickering
across her face.

God, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her
eyes lit up as she talked about the game he loved, hitting home to
him one more thing they had in common.

“I’m not blaming my performance on my
receivers.”

“I’m not telling you to do that, but don’t
take it all on your shoulders.”

“I’m the quarterback. It’s all on me. Ask
your brother.”

“Well, my brother has an ego bigger than it
should be. Stuff rolls off him.”

“Sometimes I wish I could do that. Building
relationships and timing takes time, and that’s one thing I don’t
have. The guys are trying their damnedest to help me, almost too
much. They’re overcompensating for my lack of experience by trying
too hard, which makes them tight. When you’re not relaxed, you miss
things, make mistakes.”