“Come on. She’s had a run of bad luck. The storm hit her hard.”
“Why don’t you just give her the money?”
“She’d never take it.”
“Really? A woman who wouldn’t take money from a rich athlete?”
“No, she wouldn’t. We won the Super Bowl, by the way.”
“I heard. Congratulations.”
“Come on, Mary. You’d like Carla. She’s real independent.”
“I’ll see what I can do. But don’t count on it.”
He frowned at her, but planted his feet.
“Might be a way. I suppose I could pull the bills we send her and have you write a check and submit the bill to me.”
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
“Did you?”
“I was hoping. Besides, if she defaults on her mortgage, the bank doesn’t get squat,” Trunk said.
“Good point.”
“Thanks,” he said, rising from the chair and heading for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Can you have the bills ready then?”
“Sure.”
He pushed through the big glass doors of the bank and headed down the street. The air was cold, maybe twenty-five degrees, but the sun was shining, and Al’s step was light, his smile broad. He whistled as he proceeded to the next stop on his list.
When he returned to The Beast several hours later, Carla had finished setting up the new appliances.
“Okay. Now, I’m ready to sell.”
Trunk dropped the “for sale” sign on the bar. “You can throw this out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a hundred pounds of meat in the car. I paid off your mortgage for the next six months. You’re not going out of business.”
“You did what?” Carla asked.
“You heard me.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Mary works at the bank. It’s done. The meat is keeping cold in the car. Doodles told me what to get. Call the meat man and arrange another delivery.”
“Al, you can’t interfere in my business. If I can’t make it on my own, then I should shut it down.”
“Every business gets a loan sometimes. Consider this yours. But you don’t have to pay it back.”
With both hands on her hips, she glared at him.
“No comeback? Good. Then it stands.”
“You’re up shit’s creek with me.” She walked away from him.
Al followed and grasped her upper arms. “Why don’t you let me help you? I love you, Carla. This is a great place. Everybody loves it. Don’t sell. Close it down. Come on. You’re the best. Everybody needs help sometimes. It’s not easy to run a successful bar.”
She blinked rapidly. “Damn it, I know that. Don’t you think I’ve been doing everything I can? I’m just not good enough.”
“Yes, you are, honey. You are. You had a run of bad luck.”
She turned to him. “How am I ever gonna pay you back? Season’s over. Business is dead.”
“That’s what you think. Go. Get ready. I’ll bring in the meat.” He spun her around and gave her rear end a pat.
Carla prepared food alongside Doodles, who kept chuckling, but wouldn’t spill the truth.
“Trunk’ll kill me. Just keep working.”
By six o’clock, they were done. The bells over the front door tinkled. Carla ambled out to see who could be coming into The Beast.
It was Griff Montgomery and his wife, Lauren. Behind them were Buddy Carruthers and Emmy, then Bull Brodsky and his wife, then Devon Drake. One by one, the Kings marched in, took tables or seats at the bar, and placed their orders. Trunk helped pour beer and wine.
Robbie Anthony and Tuffer Demson grabbed her ladder. She followed them outside where they put up a huge banner.
KINGS’ SUPER BOWL PARTY TONIGHT!
“What the hell?”
“Didn’t Trunk tell you? We’re having our Super Bowl victory party here,” Tuffer said.
Trunk leaned against the bar and smiled. She scurried back inside.
“What are you doing? Get busy. There’s a ton of people headed this way,” she barked at him, wiping a tear away.
He leaned over and kissed her. “You’re not alone.”
“Hey, can the mushy stuff. Where’s my beer?” It was Bull, pounding his fist on the bar and grinning.
“You’ll get a fist in the mouth with yours if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Trunk fired off, shoving a bottle into his friend’s hand.
“Carla. Do you allow the help to talk like that?”
“You know, Al. What can I do?” She cupped his cheek before heading back to the kitchen to rustle up a ton of blue cheese burgers.
* * * *
At two, Carla and Al finished cleaning up. They sent Doodles home with a bonus and trudged up the stairs. The entire evening had been nonstop. Her feet ached, but her heart swelled. She’d raked in almost two thousand dollars, between food, drinks, and tips. She peeled off her outfit and headed for the bathroom. A quick shower revived her. She wrapped up in a fleece robe and padded down the hall.
Al was putting his shoes under the bed when she returned.
She flopped down next to him. “We took in almost two grand tonight. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Everyone loves this place.”
“You did it. You told them to bring the party here.”
“I just suggested it. Bull and the team did the rest.”
“God bless them.”
“You have friends, Carla. You’re nice to people. They like you. And your food is the best.”
“I think I’m gonna expand the menu.”
“Good idea.”
Trunk pushed to his feet and stripped off his clothing. Then, he pulled down the covers and got in. Carla was still lying on top, counting on her fingers and mumbling to herself.
“How about a little you-and-me time?” He slid his hand up her sleeve, rerouting her attention. Her eyes were huge, dark chocolate, limpid pools. Carla fired off attitude with her mouth, but her eyes told the truth. Love shined through.
She slipped the robe down. He helped her take it off and moved over.
“You’re my hero, Al. You saved me. I love you for it.”
“Is that all?” His brow wrinkled.
“That’s a lot!” She laughed.
“I want your love.”
She stroked the stubble on his cheek. “You know you have that. I’ve always loved you. Since the beginning. Didn’t you know?”
“You did? I had no idea.”
“I kept it to myself. You were married. I don’t mess with married men.”
“Yeah. I wanted you, but I was tied to Mary. Nothing I could do.”
“At first, you were just a crush. But after a while, I knew there wasn’t anyone else for me.”
He brushed his lips against hers. “I love you. Always have. Always will.”
She lay back on the bed while he turned to the side. He slid the drawer to the nightstand open then faced her again.
“The timing is perfect.”
“Hmm?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Marry me, Carla. I love you. I want you. We’re great together.” He opened the little box that had been hiding in his big palm. Inside was an exquisite, seven carat, round-cut, diamond ring with a smaller stone on either side.
She gasped, her eyes riveted to the gorgeous jewels. “Al! This is too much.”
“Nothing’s too much for you, baby.”
“I could pay the rent for a year with what you laid out for this.”
“I can afford it. Your days of worrying about the rent are over. We’re a team.”
“Like the Kings?” She looked at him, merriment in her eyes.
He laughed. “Sort of. Our own, two-person team.”
“I’d like that.”
“So, will you?”
“You know I will.”
He plucked the small ring out, but fumbled putting it on.
Carla fished it out from u
nder the sheet and slipped it on. It fit fine. She spread her fingers out and stared at the dazzling diamond. “It’s beyond beautiful.”
“Just like you. It shines.”
She tilted her chin up to gaze into his eyes. He picked up on the gesture and swooped down, taking her mouth with passion. His arms encircled her, pulling her up against his chest, crushing her pillowy breasts into his pecs. She moaned as he touched her, kissed down her neck to her chest, and cupped her rear end.
“I love you, Al. Always will,” she breathed, shutting her eyes.
“Baby, I’m gonna take you to the moon,” he muttered.
And he did.
Epilogue
April 20th
After seven attempts, Trunk gave up trying to tie his bowtie. Stupid fucking monkey suit. At the sound of a car horn, he picked up his tuxedo jacket and stormed out.
Bull was behind the wheel, leaning on the horn.
Trunk got in and slammed the door. “This fuckin’ tie. God damn it!”
“Shit, I don’t know how to do this. Sam does. She’ll be there. Stormy too.”
“Drive this thing. Can’t be late today.”
Bull threw the car in gear and roared out of the driveway.
“It’s right this time,” Al said.
“Getting married?”
“Yeah. This is the right girl.”
“You sure? ’Cause I’ll turn the car around if you say so.”
“Totally sure.”
Bull reached over and patted his buddy on the arm. They pulled up to City Hall.
Samantha Brodsky, Bull’s wife, was waiting outside. “It’s about time! Trunk, what happened to your tie?”
“Can you fix it? Is Carla here?”
“Stand still.” Sam reached up. “Carla’s inside, finishing up a few things.”
She did Trunk’s tie. Then, Bull brushed off the back of the defenseman’s jacket, and they headed for the big, brick building.
Devon Drake waited for them in the lobby. “Wait here. Stormy said she’d come up when Carla’s ready.”
“Is something wrong? Is Carla getting cold feet?”
“No, no. Some dress thing.”
Trunk nodded. Last thing he needed was Carla leaving him at the altar. His attention was distracted by Stormy approaching.
“She’s ready! She’s ready. Come on,” Devon’s fiancée said, motioning for them to follow.
In a large room, several couples sat on benches. Carla stood, her back to them. As they entered, she turned around. Trunk sucked in air. She was an angelic vision in white. A veil blossomed from a small, headband-type hat. Her dark hair was glossy and smooth as it swung free and twined in loose curls around her shoulders.
She wore a white dress with a lace bodice and a square neckline. Just under her breasts, the fabric turned to plain, white silk that fell straight down to her knee. A pearl choker matched pearl drop earrings. The diamond on her finger glittered in the dull, fluorescent light.
Words eluded Trunk as he gazed at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“You okay?” Carla took his hand.
“You’re…you’re…”
“Spit it out, babe.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She laughed. “Glad you think so.”
“Let’s go,” Bull said, glancing at his watch. “We have a one o’clock reservation at The Sweet Magnolia. Are we next?”
“We?” Trunk chuckled.
“Okay, okay. You know what I mean.” Bull offered his arm to Carla.
When they reached the judge, Trunk took Carla’s hand, which shook a little. He smiled at her and received an uncertain grin in return.
The ceremony was quick. Relief flooded through Al when he slid the wedding band on her finger. No cold feet. No escape now. She’s mine.
Carla beamed after getting the ring on his. They kissed passionately to the applause of their friends. The bride tossed the bouquet to Stormy, and they headed for their cars. He held the door for Carla and then slid in beside her in Bull’s backseat.
Trunk had made arrangements for a private luncheon for his bride and their tiny wedding party at the toniest restaurant in town. They smooched their way to The Sweet Magnolia.
“Geez, Trunk, get a room, will ya?” Bull harassed.
“Shut up. I’m a newlywed.”
They pulled into the parking lot.
Trunk got out first. “Wow, a lotta cars here. Sure is busy for a weekday lunch.”
Bull hustled them inside.
The maître d congratulated the couple. “There has been a slight change of plans, Mr. Mahoney. Our small dining room had been reserved before you called. So, we have put you in the large one. Come this way, please.”
Trunk made a face, but Carla took his hand. “It’ll be okay.”
He followed her to the door. When the man threw it open, Trunk was greeted with a huge “Surprise!” from a crowd of people. He rubbed his eyes. There were his teammates and their spouses. Long tables were set for a meal, and everyone had dressed up. “What the hell?”
Carla squeezed his hand. “They wanted to do it, Al, so I said ‘okay’.”
“Hey, man, we couldn’t let the star of our team get married quietly. We wanted a party. A celebration,” Bull said.
Trunk couldn’t stop tears from flooding his eyes. “You did this for me?”
“Yep. Now, get your butt in the chair and let’s get this party started!” Bull said.
At a side table, a waiter popped bottle after bottle of champagne.
Before they could sit down, Stormy clinked a knife against a glass. Soon, everyone had joined in. Trunk pulled Carla to him, and they kissed. As they made their way to the head of the table, each player shook his hand and congratulated him, or made some sexy comment.
Trunk’s heart swelled to almost bursting. He’d never had this kind of love from anyone. He’d considered himself lucky to find a woman who’d have him, but so many friends too? He couldn’t take it all in. He wiped his face with a napkin and looked around.
Waiters came with plates of hot, luscious food—seared scallops or grilled steak or chicken Marsala. Huge bowls of Caesar salad and platters of pasta kept coming. The buzz of chatting, laughing, and eating brought joy to his heart.
“They love you, Al,” Carla whispered.
He nodded, choked with emotion and unable to speak.
When the meal was over, Trunk buttonholed the waiter about the bill.
“Oh, no, monsieur. It has already been paid. Three gentlemen took care of it.”
Trunk was speechless.
Before they finished their dessert, Lauren Montgomery rose from her seat. “Attention! Attention.”
The group quieted down.
“You may think we forgot to get you a wedding present, but that’s not true.”
A murmur of voices arose from the crowd.
“We got together and tried to figure out what the couple who has everything needed. Then, we came up with the one thing, or should I say two things, you lacked.” She made a gesture to the door. The waiter opened it and in came Griff, holding a pug under each arm.
“Your new dogs, Fred and Ethel!” Lauren announced.
The crowd rose to their feet, cheering. The pooches barked. Carla and Trunk approached them, crouching down. The little animals jumped on Al, knocking him to the floor. They licked him and licked him, making him laugh until he could hardly breathe.
“Now, you have everything,” Griff said.
“I do believe we do.” Carla kneeled down and pulled Ethel toward her.
“Damn right we do,” Trunk agreed, pushing to a sitting position, taking his new wife’s hand, and allowing Fred to crawl into his lap.
* * * *
Kennedy Airport, New York City
Harley Brennan checked his bag at the curb, went through security, and headed for the Eagle Airlines V.I.P. lounge. He had an hour and a half to kill before his flight left for Los Angeles.
Although it had been two months since his concussion, he was reluctant to drink alcohol. This injury had been much worse than his three prior ones. His recovery had taken longer, and it scared him, though he’d never admit it.
He ordered a lemonade, a ginger ale, and an empty glass and proceeded to mix his own “Carla Special.”
“Always do you own bar tending?” a seductive female voice asked.
Harley turned to stare into the gorgeous baby blues of Shyla Hollings. “Shyla, sweetheart. What are you doing here?”
“Heading to L.A.”
“L.A.? Me too. What for?”
“A set design job. I heard you’re going to be the next future husband on Marriage Minded.”
“You heard?”
“It’s all over the media. Your handsome face is everywhere. Don’t you watch television?”
“Not lately.”
“Oh, that’s right. Concussion. No TV.”
“Were you at the game, or was I hallucinating?”
“I was there. Penny had tickets. I had to sit on the Demons’ side and cheer for Mark, but I was rooting for you too.”
“You came by after?”
“I did. You remembered. I guess the injury wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
“Bad enough. Want a drink?”
“I’ll have what you’re having. Looks interesting.”
“No alcohol, but it’s great.” Harley ordered the same ingredients and mixed one for Shyla.
“So, why the TV gig?” she asked, taking a sip and nodding her approval.
He looked down at his hands. “I gave up.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Gave up?”
“Gave up hope you’d come back. Gave up hope another Shyla Hollings would walk through my door. I want to settle down.”
“So, you contacted the show?”
“They came to me. Convinced me I’d find my true love there. My soulmate.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you allowed more than one soul-mate in a lifetime?”
She blushed, making her fair complexion even more beautiful. Blonde hair fell across her forehead. She averted her gaze.
An announcement came over the loud speaker—their flight would begin boarding in ten minutes.
Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line Page 22
