“You set your sights too low, my man.”
“I’m not like you. I wasn’t raised to do that. To take advantage of women.”
“Oh my God. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Robbie stared wide-eyed at his teammate.
“None of your business. I’m not looking to get laid. I’m looking for true love.”
“Sometimes, they’re one and the same.” Robbie snorted.
“Let’s go.” Tuffer narrowed his eyes.
“Okay, okay. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need that kind of help. But a list of things to talk about might be good.”
Robbie grabbed his jacket, slapped his friend on the shoulder, and laughed as they headed for the parking lot. “Don’t worry, Demson, I’ve got this covered. It’s gonna go smooth as glass.”
Tuffer wanted to believe him, but the big defenseman couldn’t stop sweating, and it was a bone-numbing twenty degrees outside.
Chapter Sixteen
Flurries had started by the time Trunk packed his bags to leave for Florida. Carla’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. There was so much she wanted to say, but didn’t want to upset him before the big game. He needed to be calm, focused, and ready—and her bleating about their relationship wasn’t going to foster a good mood for either of them. Still, so many words, thoughts, and emotions lingered on the tip of her tongue, enticing her to give voice. Loving a man means putting him first. So, she swallowed her questions with her pride and prepared a fresh pot of java.
The old building was okay in warmer weather, but tiny gaps in the window casements created small drafts, cooling the place. Carla wrapped a turquoise sweater around herself, hugging her body, as she waited for the coffee to brew. Trunk came downstairs with his suitcase.
“Coffee’ll be ready in a minute. Got a burger for you. One for the road.” She gave a mirthless laugh.
“Thanks, honey.” He picked up a French fry, while staring at her. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
“Forgot my blush this morning’s all.”
He nodded, but one glimpse of his expression told her she hadn’t fooled him. Anxiety built inside her. She didn’t want him to leave, yet dreaded his return even more.
“Nervous?” She glanced at him, then away, out the window.
“A little. Coach is pretty insane about us winning. Lotta pressure.”
“I’ll bet.”
“And I’m leaving the best tension reliever behind.” He snickered, shaking his head and grinning.
She smiled. “Girlfriends can’t go anyway. So, even if I didn’t have The Beast…”
“Yeah. I know.”
An uncomfortable silence sprang up between them. Tension grew, like taut wires. His gaze darted around the room. He coughed then attacked the burger. Carla left to return with two steaming mugs of hot coffee. One prepared just the way Al Mahoney liked it, with a little sugar and cream.
“Hits the spot. It’s kinda cold in here,” Trunk said.
“The place isn’t airtight. When it’s like this outside, it gets freezing in here.”
“Got enough wood for the fireplace? I could bring more in.”
“This should do. I think they’re predicting a little snow tonight, but nothing huge.”
“I’m not sorry to be leaving, except for not taking you with me.”
“Sunny Florida! You lucky dog.” She swiped at him.
“You could be lying on the beach in a bikini with me drooling all over you.”
She laughed. “You’ll be preoccupied anyway. You don’t need me hanging on you.”
He finished eating in silence. Emotion gathered in her chest. Convinced he’d be leaving her after the game, she didn’t know what to say.
“I got the final papers and the keys to the house. They’ll be starting work on the floors while I’m away. Lauren said I could move in when I get back, though the place will still need a lotta work.”
“That’s good.” Is it?
“We’ll sort us out when I get back.”
She nodded. What’s to sort out? You’ll be leaving, and I’ll be alone. “Don’t worry about us. Just concentrate on the game, okay?”
“I’ve got this, baby. We’re pumped. We’re gonna win.”
He wiped his mouth then stepped closer. He engulfed her in his embrace, pulling her tight against his chest. Carla rested her face on the soft, flannel shirt he wore. She inhaled his scent, mixed with piney soap and aftershave. It was heady. She twined her arms around his middle, softening against him. He stroked her glossy hair and kissed her head.
“Don’t fall in love with anyone while I’m gone,” he whispered.
Words of love stuck in her throat. Don’t go there. He’s leaving.
He let go and shrugged his jacket across his wide shoulders. Carla zipped it up for him. He tipped up her chin for a sweet kiss that turned passionate when he angled his head. Then, before tears could fall, he was out the door and down the steps. She watched as his car drove away.
Carla sighed, her heart heavy. Each foot weighed a hundred pounds. She looked up to spy a gray, unrelenting sky. The snow, which was supposed to stop at flurries, had increased in strength. As the wind gathered speed, it whipped tiny flakes by the window until the snow appeared to be falling horizontally. She made a face.
“Looks like it’s getting worse out there,” Doodles said from the back of the room.
Carla turned. “It’s supposed to lighten up.”
“Weatherman fucked up again.”
“I guess so. He’s not the only one.” Did she regret her affair with Trunk Mahoney? Not one little itty bitty bit, even though she now had to face its painful end.
Doodles joined her. “Holy shit. It’s sticking too. Are you gonna open?”
“Why not? If no one comes, it doesn’t cost me anything.”
“True. Still, it better clear up by game time.”
“Damn right. I’ve got a ton of food, beer, and wine.”
“We’ve got two days. I’m sure it’ll be melted and over by then.”
Carla watched the snow fall. She chewed on her lip as the pavement turned from dark gray to light, then to white.
Doodles slung his arm around her shoulders for a hug. “I’ll stay, if you’re gonna open.”
“I am. In fact, we’ve got a couple of hours to get things ready.” She broke from him and headed to the kitchen. For two hours, the twosome worked—set up the bar, wiping down tables, putting out silverware, stowing clean glasses from the night before. Doodles prepared salad while Carla made meat patties. They talked, laughed, and joked.
At four, they sat down to a late lunch. She flipped on the television.
“Well, Ted, what do you say?” the anchor said, turning to face the weatherman.
“Don’t look at me. The weather has shifted. See here.” The man made circles on a map. Carla’s mind wandered until she heard the word “blizzard.” Her thoughts immediately turned to Al and the plane carrying the team.
As if the newsman had read her mind he announced, “Airports are open, but closings are expected if the blizzard continues to move into our area.”
“Hal, according to weather central, they don’t see the blizzard changing direction. My advice is to head to the store to stock up on staples, pull out your snow shovel and long johns. The temperature is dropping. It’s down to twenty-five now and expected to hit twenty degrees before midnight.”
Doodles switched off the tube. Carla grabbed her phone and searched for the airport website, but a call came in before she could connect. It was Trunk.
“I’m on the plane. We’re taking off in a few minutes. Just wanted to tell you we’re okay. The runway is clear. We’ll get out before the storm gets bad. Are you okay?”
“Doodles and I are hunkering down here. We’re open, but nobody’s here.”
“Stay inside. Stay safe, baby. Gotta go. We’re taxiing now. Love you.”
“What?”
Before he could answer, the phone went dead.
She blew out a breath.
“Trunk?” Doodles asked.
She nodded. “He’s okay. They’re taking off now. They’ll just miss the storm.”
“That’s good.”
She nodded and ambled over to the front window again. The flakes were bigger and coming down faster. The sky was white with snow. She could hardly see across the road. A snow plow lumbered down the street, scraping along the pavement. There was already over an inch on her walk. Carla fetched a broom and handed it to her cook.
“Doodles, could you please sweep the snow off the walk? Nobody’s gonna come in unless we clear it.”
“Sure, Carla. But nobody’s coming in anyway.” He bundled into a puffy jacket and opened the door. A gust of wind blew in, bringing a puff of snow that melted instantly. She wiped the floor with paper towels and put up another pot of coffee. Then, she settled in front of the television, watching the news about the storm.
“The mayor of Monroe has asked everyone to stay inside. Roads are slippery, and there’s a pile up on I-55, just north of us here. Stay home, folks. Make a fire, read a book, watch a movie. Ted, do we know when this’ll be over?”
“Thanks, Hal. No, the blizzard has slowed down and may be with us for at least twenty-four hours. Stay home. Roads are treacherous, and visibility is about zero.”
Carla made a face. She trotted into the kitchen and packed the meat back into the fridge. “Gotta eat the salad. It won’t be good tomorrow.”
“Caesar, ranch, or blue cheese?” Doodles asked, parceling lettuce into two big bowls.
* * * *
When the snow drifts were a foot high, Carla closed up and let Doodles go home. It was only eight, so she ate then climbed into bed with a book. The wind howled around her small building. She watched the snow, highlighted by street lamps against the black sky, swirl furiously as if driven by some demon. A fine sheen of icy flakes clung to the corners of her bedroom windows. When she put her fingertips against the glass, they were frigid in seconds.
The empty bed reminded her that Trunk wasn’t there and wasn’t coming. She hunkered down, pulling the covers all the way up to her chin. She fell asleep reading. A loud crack woke her up at three. Everything was dark. She reached for the lamp at her bedside, but several clicks didn’t produce light. A glance outside told her it wasn’t simply a burned out bulb. It was pitch black. The street lamps were out too. Crap. A blackout.
She smacked her forehead. The refrigerator! The freezer! As her feet hit the floor, she was reminded that her heat wasn’t working either. It was freezing. She pulled a flashlight out of the nightstand and padded over to the dresser for socks. She threw on her bathrobe and made her way to the window.
Snow drifts buried cars. It was still coming down. There was no evidence that the street had been plowed. Her sidewalk and steps were totally covered. You wouldn’t even know they were there. The silvery flakes shone in the moonlight, making the silent scene eerie. Fear flashed through her for a moment.
Get yourself together. Make a fire downstairs. Check on the freezer and the fridge.
With fingers crossed, she made her way slowly down the stairs. She tried every light switch, but nothing worked. With her heart in her mouth, she opened the fridge. No light, which meant that it wasn’t working. Same thing with the freezer.
Her teeth started to chatter as the cold seeped through her robe. She worried she’d lose a fortune in food and have nothing for the Super Bowl party. She called Doodles, but his phone wasn’t working. When she shone the flashlight outside, she saw a couple of large branches down on the lawn. Then, she spied it. A tree, almost touching the ground. It had come uprooted and fallen on electrical wires. The whole neighborhood was dark. No electricity also meant, eventually, no water. She’d have to let snow melt to flush the toilet. She made a face.
She couldn’t even make coffee.
Carla returned upstairs, pulled out all her warm clothing, and got dressed. She wore leggings, fleece pants, T-shirt, sweatshirt, and another pair of socks. Then, she ran downstairs, yanked on her boots and down coat, and opened the back door. The broom wasn’t going to be enough. She hauled the snow shovel up from the basement and made a path on the steps from the kitchen. Then, she began to haul meat. Each hunk she brought out, she packed in snow.
Just until the electricity is back on. Back and forth, up and down. Inside, down to the basement, up the basement stairs, down the back stairs—without falling—back up, and then do it all over again. She wished Doodles and Trunk had been there.
She transferred everything from both appliances. She finished at six. The sky was still dark gray, though it began to lighten a little as the sun rose. The wind blew, but it seemed to be losing power. Snow still fell from the sky. Carla was exhausted and frozen. She could hardly move her fingers or toes. Inside, she built a fire, but it wasn’t enough to warm the room, which had cooled down to an uncomfortable level.
She put her head down on the bar and cried. What could she do? She couldn’t stay there, and yet, she couldn’t leave. A loud rap and an unfamiliar voice frightened her. She lifted her tear-stained face and trembled at the sight of a strange man at her front door.
“Miss Ricci? Carla Ricci? Are you in here? Open up, Miss Ricci, it’s the police.”
She let out a deep breath and fairly flew to the door. When she opened it, snow piled on the door frame fell, blowing into the bar. A burly policeman stepped inside. Carla threw herself in his arms, sobbing.
“Miss Ricci, are you hurt?”
“Frozen,” she managed through her tears.
“Frostbite?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Missy. Get your keys. You’re coming with me.”
Looking around him, she saw an ATV running, it’s lights on. “Who are you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m Officer Mark Gordon. We received a call from Mr. Al Mahoney. He plays for the Kings?”
“Al?”
“Yes, ma’am. He called us. Said you were trapped here alone and not answering your phone. Said a Mrs. Buddy Carruthers wanted you to stay with her until this was over. As you may know, Mrs. Carruthers is pregnant. She doesn’t have the right vehicle to fetch you, and it wouldn’t be safe. So, Mr. Mahoney called us. And here I am. Throw a few things in a bag, and let’s go. It’s not getting any better out there.”
“Yes, sir,” Carla said, her heart warm though her body was shivering.
She flew up the stairs, grabbed a valise, and dumped some basics in. She was ready in ten minutes. In the meantime, the officer had put out the small fire in the fireplace. The policeman took her case, and she clung to his arm as they made their way back to his vehicle. The cold had seeped into her bones. Her teeth chattered as they waded through the snowy street.
“Mr. Mahoney’s very worried about you. He thought something bad might have happened. Maybe a tree fell on ya or something. We take care of our own in Monroe. I’ll be calling him to tell him you’re safe with Mrs. Carruthers right after I drop you off.”
“Thank you, Officer Gordon. I could kiss you!” She rubbed her hands together, trying to get feeling to return to her fingers.
He chuckled. “I don’t think Mr. Mahoney would like that much, do you?”
Carla laughed with him as relief flooded her body. She made her way up the front walk buried under snow. Emmy Carruthers was waiting at the door, with Blitz, her pug, standing guard. She waved to the officer, who turned around and left once Carla was safely inside.
“I thought you went to Miami,” she said to the singer.
“Too close to my due date. Buddy and I thought I’d be more comfortable here. Now, I wish I’d gone! Look at this mess!” Her arm made a sweeping gesture outside.
“I know what you mean.” Carla shucked her boots in the entryway. Blitz sniffed them, then her legs. She bent down and petted the curious dog.
“Take that wet stuff off. We’ll put it in the dryer. I have hot chocolate by the fire. Come on.�
��
Carla peeled off her layers until she got to the long johns. Emmy threw a fleece blanket around the shivering young woman, who burst into tears. Emmy held her, stroking her hair.
“I was so scared. I had to take all the meat out of the freezer and put it in the snow. The house was freezing. A tree came down. I have no electricity. And I was alone.”
“You’re here now. And you’ll stay until it’s over. Verna did a grocery run for me when the snow first started. So, we’ve got electricity and a full fridge. Come on. Curl up by the fire. You’ll feel better.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it. When Buddy called, I was happy to have some company.”
Carla padded after the very pregnant woman. They each occupied one end of the sofa. Blitz curled up next to his mistress. A blazing fire roared in a large, stone fireplace, crackling, spitting, and throwing off heat and light. Carla wrapped her cold fingers around the warm mug of chocolate and sipped. Gratitude captured her heart.
“Thank you for saving me. It would have been a long, cold night.”
“The Kings are family. We stick together, help each other out,” Emmy said, finishing her cocoa. She stretched her legs out, resting them on an ottoman.
Carla drank then curled up. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she was asleep in a heartbeat.
* * * *
In an hour, the Carla awoke. She and Emmy heated leftover beef stew in the microwave and ate by the fire. They swapped stories about their men. Trunk called on the Carruthers’ landline to make sure she was okay. She didn’t give him the gruesome details, but tried to be positive. If he saw through her, he didn’t say. The conversation was short, and then Emmy spoke to Buddy. Carla was given the guest room that had a queen-sized bed. The Carruthers’ house was luxurious. The barkeep reveled in the high quality sheets and abundance of pillows.
As she lay in bed, thinking about Al, she thanked him, Buddy, Emmy, and God for keeping her safe. Still exhausted, she slept well and didn’t awake until eight. The sun was peeking through clouds, and the snow had stopped. The wind still blew, gusting and rearranging the powdery flakes.
Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line Page 19
