Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (9 page)

The place had been sold out from under him
and he hadn’t even known his former teammate had put the house up
for sale. The former teammate who now played for a team vying for a
playoff spot with the Jacks.

The asshole was trying to screw him
over.

Brett needed to find a home for him and his
furry family while working sixteen-hour days. He’d also lose his
animal sitter, old Mrs. Styles, who took care of his animals during
the week. She loved all animals and didn’t care a bit about Bongo’s
cussing because she couldn’t hear. Even better, she liked the extra
money in her pocket for her brandy and her Saturday night bingo
sprees at the casino.

Brett sat down on the bench in the locker
room and focused on the far wall, the paper still clenched in his
hands. The Jacks had lost another game over the weekend, but they
still had one more chance, and that was all he needed. One more
game in the regular season, one more chance to prove himself, earn
a spot as a starting quarterback on his own team—with a lucrative
contract.

Heavy, uneven steps echoed across the empty
locker room floor. Brett bent his head, pretending to text message,
and prayed the guy would walk on by. No such luck. A pair of large
feet framed by crutches appeared in his line of vision.

Brett rolled his eyes and glared up at
Harris. “Go ahead, chew my ass and get it over with.”

Harris glanced at his own iPhone, tapped a
couple times on the screen, studied it, and then met Brett’s gaze.
“You sucked the first half, then the second half you settled down
and played a decent game. You’re getting better, but we’re running
out of time. It’s”—Harris consulted his smartphone again—“Monday,
late afternoon. We need to get started on the next game with the
Rams. We’ll spend tonight going over yesterday’s game then we’ll
start on the next opponent.”

Brett nodded, pushing thoughts from his mind
of becoming the first NFL player under contract to be homeless.

“It’s a short week because of Christmas, so
we’ll work Christmas day, too.”

“Sounds good.” Brett had completely
forgotten about Christmas. Like he gave a shit. To him it was just
another day. Besides, he’d be absolved from guilt about not going
to his family’s Christmas.
Sorry, Mom; gotta work.

“Did you have plans for Christmas dinner?”
Tyler frowned as if the thought just occurred to him.

“Nope, none,” Brett grinned, actually happy
to avoid his family drama.

“Well, then good. You can join us. We’ll eat
and get back to work.”

“Uh, I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. My mom and aunt love cooking
for huge groups.”

“But—”

“You’re going. It’s the quickest way to do
our Christmas duty and get back to work. You know where Derek
lives, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Be there at one. We eat at two. Now that
that’s settled, let’s get to work.”

Settled? Harris gave orders like General
Patton, and never took no for an answer. Brett decided it would be
better just to go. Besides, surely Estie would be there. Despite
how stupid it was, Brett wanted to see her, especially on
Christmas.

Brett stood, wadded up the notice, and
banked a shot toward the garbage can in the locker room.

Harris snatched the balled-up paper out of
thin air with one hand. “What the fuck is this? I told you not to
pay attention to any of that shit they put on the internet or in
the papers.” He smoothed it out and read it. Anger filled his eyes
and Brett could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Aren’t
you living in Jermaine White’s house?”

Brett nodded.

“White did this on purpose. The bastard.”
Tyler smashed the eviction notice into a tighter ball and did a
one-handed shot into the garbage can, not even touching the rim,
for a three-pointer. It just figured he was good at everything.

“Looks that way. I didn’t even know the
place was for sale. He never put up a sign or said a thing about
it.”

Harris’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his
chin. “Hmmm, that’s just fucking wonderful. You got a lot of stuff
to move?”

“Not really. I’m a minimalist type of guy,
but I have animals. That’s going to be the problem.”

Harris waved his hand. “Not one damn bit. I
know just the place. My sister has a full daylight basement, which
is a mother-in-law apartment. Separate entrance, its own kitchen,
bathroom, and a fenced yard for the animals.”

“Which sister?” Brett held his breath and
searched his memory as to whether or not Estie had a daylight
basement in her ranch house. He’d never paid much attention because
it’d been dark, and he’d been too busy drooling over Harris’s
sister.

“Estie.” Tyler said that one word Brett
longed to hear.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Part of
him thought it was an excellent idea; the rest of him didn’t get a
vote.

“She loves animals and does a lot of her
work at home so she can take care of yours, too. We’ll move you in
next Tuesday after we win this upcoming playoff game and earn a bye
for the first round of the playoffs.”

“Green Bay has to lose for that to
happen.”

Harris shrugged. “Whatever. You take care of
your part and let fate deal with the Packers.”

“Look, I can’t move into Estie’s basement.
It’s just—”

Harris pinned him with shrewd, assessing
eyes. “It’s just what?”

“Are you sure she’ll be okay with this?”
Brett couldn’t tell Harris he had a raging crush on his sister and
that he either took a cold shower or took care of himself every
night while thinking of her. Harris would definitely castrate
him.

“Positive.” Harris grinned. “Where else can
you find a place that’ll take animals and rent to you month to
month? Let’s face it, Gun, you make the playoffs, and you’re
getting a big contract as a starter somewhere, so you don’t want to
get tied up into a long-term lease. Estie’s getting married so she
doesn’t need to commit herself to a renter when she doesn’t know
what the future holds.”

Brett was torn between his head and his
heart and the impossible task of pleasing both. Harris made the
decision for him.

* * * * *

There were times Estie wanted to shove her
brother in a bottle, cork it, and throw the bottle in the Pacific
Ocean. Let some other poor sap deal with him. This was one of those
times. The guy could be a total prick and love every minute of it.
Case in point: Christmas dinner. He’d invited Brett and didn’t say
one damn thing about it to Estie.

Not that Tyler would think it would matter.
And it shouldn’t. But it did.

He’d also invited Zach and Kelsie and hadn’t
told her about them, but Brett?
Damn.
Sure, it wasn’t her
house or Ty’s—it belonged to their cousin Derek and his wife,
Rachel. But still. Brett and Richard in the same house for an
afternoon? Double damn.

Estie did her best to appear interested in
every boring conversation and family drama event going on in the
room and avoided Brett at all costs. The last thing she needed was
someone noticing the hot glances he cast her way or the longing in
her gaze as she drooled after him when he wasn’t looking.

Derek’s large family room had a bar with a
full array of alcohol. Estie availed herself of a few drinks in a
failed attempt to relax. Considering the way Brett and Richard shot
daggers at each other, it’d be a long day. Pretty soon they’d be
lifting their legs and marking their territory.

Unable to tolerate the tension any longer,
she excused herself to help her mom and Aunt Bonnie, Derek and
Danielle’s stepmother, in the kitchen. Estie was a passable cook,
better than Freddie, who’d been banned from the kitchen for life,
and rightfully so. She set to work peeling potatoes, a mindless
task if there ever was one, leaving her too much time to recall
Brett’s blue eyes, tentative smile, and how the muscles in his arm
flexed when he picked up his beer. Estie fanned herself at the
thought. The man had a ripped body and was an endearing combination
of purpose and shyness rolled into one.

When her mother left the room for a moment,
her Aunt Bonnie slid up beside her. She picked up one of the
potatoes Estie had arranged in a neat line on the counter and
peeled an entire potato before she spoke in a hushed voice. “Brett
Gunnels is a very nice man, isn’t he?”

Estie sucked in a breath and nodded. Aunt
Bonnie noticed everything.

“He has a bit of a crush on you.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Estie peeled so hard the
potato in her hand shrank to half its size.

“I think you have, and I think you’re
attracted to him.” Aunt Bonnie raised her brows and looking
pointedly at the poor scalped potato.

Estie eyed her aunt but didn’t even attempt
to deny the truth. Growing up next door to the Ramseys she knew
Aunt Bonnie as well as she knew her own mother. “Am I that
transparent?”

“To me, yes. Your mom, she’s too busy to
notice. Not sure about the other women. To the men, not at all.
They’re oblivious. Except Richard.”

“Mom’s in her element, she loves these big
events.” Estie smoothly avoided any more discussion of Richard’s
newfound jealousy.

“She does.” Her aunt laughed, but she
sobered quickly. She searched Estie’s gaze with a penetrating one
of her own and squeezed her hand. “You were always the one who had
to have a plan and stick to that plan. It’s okay to deviate or
throw out the plan if it’s not working.”

“I’m happy,” Estie lied, as she put potato
peels in the garbage and wiped off the counter. She straightened
the canisters so they were in a perfect line in order of height,
tallest first, and she picked up another potato.

“You don’t have to marry him, you know.”
Aunt Bonnie took the mutilated potato from her niece. “The potatoes
would thank you.” Her smile was laced with concern, and not for the
potatoes.

“It’s just cold feet, that’s all.”

“It’s more than that, honey. This rowdy
group might not pay any attention, but I do. I see the body
language between you and Richard, and it’s not good.”

“I think he’s just tense because we made the
mutual decision not to sleep with each other again until our
wedding night to make it special.” And why was she telling her aunt
this personal detail? She wondered as she lined up a row of
carrots. They’d both decided that waiting would put some spice back
in their admittedly dull and staid sex life.

Her aunt raised an eyebrow as if she weren’t
buying it. “Do you love him?”

Estie leaned back against the counter. “Yes,
I love him. It’s just—”

“Oh, hell, not this again. Estie, figure it
out.” Freddie appeared from nowhere, foot tapping on the floor and
arms crossed over her chest.

Estie turned her back on her sister and
chopped on the carrots, murdering them with her knife and ignoring
her sister. Their mother came in, followed by Rachel, Kelsie, and
Lavender. Just what she needed, the entire bunch of them butting in
where they weren’t invited.

“What are you two fighting about now?”
Trisha Harris put her hands on her hips and stared at her two
daughters. Even at close to sixty, she was tall and lean, with dark
hair and an almost flawless face. She looked and acted twenty years
younger.

“My OCD sister here is freaking out about
marriage, if you can believe that.” Freddie snorted and rolled her
eyes.

Rachel stepped forward. “Maybe he’s not the
right guy.”

Easy for Rachel to say. She was married to
Derek, one of the nicest guys Estie knew, even if he was her
cousin. Estie chopped harder, fighting back the tears. Never let
them see you cry, especially not her family. They’d descend on her
like a pack of rabid dogs on an orphaned fawn. Survival of the
fittest was the family motto.

Freddie held court, bitching to their Mom,
Rachel, and Aunt Bonnie, berating Estie’s control issues—like
Freddie should talk—and how she’d be hard-pressed to find another
guy pussy-whipped enough to put up with her. Lavender and Kelsie
slipped out of the kitchen, not wanting any part in Freddie’s
tirade.

Continuing her vegetable serial killer ways,
Estie sliced into a tomato, gutting the poor thing, and making a
dripping mess. Mess or not, that didn’t stop her. She glanced out
the window to the deck where the guys drank beer and smoked cigars.
Brett leaned against the railing and off to the side, but still
part of the group. Richard stood stiffly nearby, not saying
word.

“I’ll set the table.” Estie volunteered, not
even drawing a glance from the women. They’d moved on to picking
apart the Lumberjacks’ new jersey design, and Estie had become the
invisible middle child again. She couldn’t decide which was worse,
being ignored or being pinned under a microscope. Odds were ten to
one it was the pinning.

She walked into the dining room where the
leaves had been added to make the table large enough to seat the
royal family. Pretty soon there’d be kids at these family things.
Who would be the first? Rachel and Derek? Tyler and Lavender? She
couldn’t see Lavender agreeing to a child without marriage, which
left Estie next in line after she married Richard. Yes, a little
baby of her own to hold and care for and nurture. As smile tugged
at her lips as she pictured the little boy with sandy brown hair
and pale blue eyes.

Estie shook her head, hard. She’d just
pictured Brett’s child, not Richard’s. Forget having cold feet,
she’d been soaking hers in an ice bucket.

Estie glanced up as Brett came through the
French doors.

He saw her and hesitated. “Hey.”

“Hi. A little hectic around here, isn’t
it?”

“Yeah, but I like it.” His soft smile
testified to the truth behind the statement.

“So do I.” At least she did until her sister
went off on her and shoved Estie’s faults in her face, as if she
weren’t already aware of them. Brett watched her intently, and when
she caught him staring, he looked away quickly.