Superstar

by J Santiago

  “Shoot.”

  “I have to go back to Atlanta this weekend.”

  “Is that a question?”

  He grinned. “I was wondering if you want to come with me.”

  She tipped back in the chair. “Well, we’re a week and a half away from the spring game. We’ll definitely have practice on Saturday.”

  “I thought about that. I can wait, and we can go Saturday afternoon.”

  She considered it. She could see Franco, Molly, and the kids if she went. She didn’t often take the time to head there when she had an opportunity. She missed them, and she wanted to spend time with them. She tried not to think about what Franco would say when she showed up with Tank. Although she knew her father pretty well, it was one reaction she didn’t think she could script.

  “More incentive?” he asked. “I talked to Tilly. They are having some people over Saturday night. We can surprise them. And, if you want to see Franco, I can take you there while I go meet with Hawk.”

  She almost laughed at all the carrots he was dangling. She wanted to go, no matter what, but it was good to have a couple of excuses and not just the desire to hang out with him as the only reason.

  “I’d love to see the As. Let me talk to Franco and see if they’ll be around.”

  “Great.”

  “So, did you tell Tilly about last night?” She hoped he hadn’t, but she couldn’t be sure. Even now, it felt odd that their respective best friends were getting married to each other. “Because I haven’t even told Keira yet.”

  He laughed. “Actually, I didn’t. I knew I needed to go back, so I talked to him at the beginning of the week. I’m sure Keira would love to see you. And it would get Tilly off the hook with wedding stuff if her maid of honor was around.”

  She chuckled. “He’d better get used to this. Keira has been planning her wedding since she was five. It’s going to be a long year.”

  “He already said they should just elope.”

  They laughed some more.

  Then, Tank came around the side of the table and took a seat. “So, are we scouting?” he asked as he looked at the monitors. He did a double take when he noticed the uniforms, the game, the play frozen in front of him. He rubbed his hand over his head. Turning to her, he asked, “Why are you watching this?” A trace of accusation and embarrassment colored his tone.

  “I was curious.” She almost reached out to touch him, reassurance for both of them maybe, but she stayed her hand.

  “You were curious about the worst game of my career?” The question flew out of his mouth, the accusation heavier this time.

  Easy.

  She wasn’t sure how to play this.

  Tank had always taken her analysis well. He’d never gotten defensive if she lobbed some constructive criticism his way. But he also hadn’t gotten stomped and humiliated in a game that millions of people were watching. Even worse, she knew he was going to hate what she had to say because the loss of the game had nothing to do with the Xs and Os; it had everything to do with his leadership.

  His eyes flickered back and forth between the screens and her. Frozen in front of him was one hell of an ugly sack, a picture of his body pinned under the left tackle. Something in his eyes flashed when he studied the scene, like he remembered the crunch of the helmet on his shoulder pad. Maybe his body remembered the impact of the hit that had driven his right shoulder into the unforgiving ground. Possibly, he could recall the smell of the field as his facemask sprayed a healthy dose of grass and dirt up into his nose. It could have been anything, but she guessed he remembered it all.

  “You could at least acknowledge it was the worst game.” He was pissed.

  Part of her wanted to laugh at the return of man-child Tank, who basically wept when his precious ego was bruised.

  “Well,” Amber began, “based on the score, I would guess it was. But, because I haven’t seen you play since college, I don’t know.”

  His jaw dropped, incredulity a mask on his face. “You haven’t seen any of my professional games?”

  “No.”

  His eyes literally bugged out of his head. She had this image of him having to force his eyes back into his sockets, and she worked hard to smother her smile and laughter.

  “Why not?”

  She waved him off, not deigning to answer his question.

  He shifted in the chair, obviously uncomfortable. Then, he nodded. “So, what’d you think?”

  She bit her top lip, fighting another smile. She couldn’t help it; she found him so cute when he was in a huff. It inserted some humanity into the perfect specimen of Tank Howard, and it made her like him even more. His arrogance was insidious, but his vulnerability was endearing.

  “I think it’s hard to throw and run an offense when you’re clenching,” she said her piece, putting it out there in the film-room universe. Then, she waited for the explosion.

  Tank’s eyes blinked, like residue was in the way of him seeing clearly. “Did you…” he sputtered. He looked around and then back at her. “Did you just say it’s hard to throw when I’m clenching?”

  Amber smirked. “Yep.”

  Tank leaned back in the chair and cackled. His laughter filled the space, permeating the air, and he looked at her with a big, dopey smile on his face. She returned it.

  “That’s your expert analysis?” he said, the smile lingering.

  “Yeah, dude. You lost that game because of nerves.”

  “Clenching?”

  “Right, clenching.”

  He reached up and rubbed his index finger and thumb across his chin. He pinned her with his gaze, which had somehow darkened with lust. “What can you do when you’re clenching?”

  Amber’s whole body infused with heat, her nipples tightening, and she thought she could come just by the look on his face. She swallowed audibly. “This isn’t about me.”

  But he was definitely making it about her.

  He inched his chair forward, the little plastic wheels rolling unhurriedly on the industrial carpet. Amber inched hers back, wanting but not wanting what his heated stare was promising.

  “There’s a wall behind you,” he said softly.

  She should have looked but found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Her chair halted, the caster refusing to budge, and Tank’s body and chair came closer and closer until their knees knocked lightly together. His hand snaked between her legs and moved at a snail’s pace up her inner thigh.

  “Are you clenching?” he whispered, leaning forward so that his head was near her ear. He nipped the lobe, lightly pulling on it with his teeth.

  She tried belatedly to clamp her thighs together, but he clutched at one of her knees and held it apart from the other.

  “You are,” he declared. “I can feel it, and I’m inches away from verifying it.”

  Forget clenching; she was about to combust. He moved his hand between her legs, shoved her panties aside, and swiped one finger into her wet heat.

  “So hot,” he whispered. Then, he dropped his mouth to her jaw and sucked on her scar. “Clench, baby,” he said.

  And, just like that, she was coming, thrusting against his hand and tightly gripping the arms of her chair as she rode it out. When her breathing regulated, she felt his smile against her jaw, and she couldn’t help it when she smiled, too.

  He kissed her hard but quick and then rested his forehead against hers. “That was so hot,” he murmured.

  She didn’t even have a response to that, so she shoved his body away from hers, needing some room to collect herself. She couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. One minute, he was angry, and the next, he was laughing. Then, he was making her come. Talk about a mood swing.

  She reached for the table and pulled the chair forward, back into the position where she’d started. She clicked through and shut down the video. When she felt like she had some modicum of control over herself, she looked back over at Tank.

  “Is that how you deal with criticism?” she
quipped.

  He laughed. “Uh, not usually. Franco doesn’t do it for me.”

  Her nose scrunched up. “Ew.”

  His smile lingered as he looked at her. She reveled in it. When it was genuine, he glowed.

  Then, he got serious, and he turned his attention to the blackened screens. “You’re the first person to tell me that. I mean, Franco and I haven’t really talked about it, but our offensive coordinator made me sit in a two-hour-long review of everything I had done wrong.”

  “Well, in all fairness to Skip, you did a lot wrong.”

  He nodded. “I did.”

  “You never looked comfortable out there. That’s not the Tank Howard I’m used to seeing.”

  “How would you know? You said you hadn’t seen me play.” He turned toward her again, “How come you haven’t watched?”

  She took a deep breath, held the gun to her head, and pulled the trigger. “The easiest way to get over you was to block you out. I couldn’t watch you play, watch your success, while wanting to move on.”

  He reached out to her, sliding his index finger against her jawline. “I get that.”

  Things were too serious all of a sudden. She longed for the crazy laughter or even the sexual tension from earlier. She could deal with that. But introspection and regrets? She wasn’t ready for all that. She’d walked away from him for a damn good reason, and she wasn’t going to question what she’d had to do to get through it.

  She moved her face away from him and stood, breaking the moment. “So, Atlanta?” she said. “When do we leave?”

  Amber rolled onto her back and lifted Alexis above her head, making vroom, vroom noises as her baby sister flung her arms out wide, pretending to be an airplane.

  “Coming in for a rough landing,” Amber warned as she let her arms fall a little to the side.

  A full-belly shriek flew from Alexis’s mouth. Amber slowly dropped her arms, letting Alexis lie softly on her, stomach to stomach. Her little body still shook with helpless giggles as Amber wrapped Alexis up in her arms. Amber had all of two full seconds of snuggling before Andy jumped next to her head, begging for his turn.

  “Me, me, ’Ber. Me.”

  Amber released Alexis, who scrambled out of the way, giving her twin his turn.

  “One more,” Franco said.

  Amber, Alexis, and Andy all turned to the doorway, looking over to their father, who was leaning against the jamb.

  “Nap time,” Franco stated.

  “No sleepy,” Andy protested, even as his little fist unconsciously reached up to rub his eye.

  Amber stifled a giggle of her own. “Okay, Pops,” she said before she grabbed Andy’s sturdy body and boosted him up above her head.

  “Plane, Daddy!” Andy yelled in between his laughter.

  “I see,” Franco agreed. “A jet, I think.”

  “Jet!” Andy yelled.

  “Coming in for a landing,” Amber said, intending to give her tired arms a rest.

  But Franco swooped in and grabbed Andy right out of the air amid Amber’s surprised laughter and Alexis’s screams of protest. Franco turned toward his little girl and swung her up with his other arm.

  Looking over his shoulder to Amber, he said, “I’ll be back,” before he left her sprawled in the middle of the playroom.

  “I’ll be here,” she promised, grinning.

  She didn’t even bother to try to get up. She was exhausted from her fitful sleep the night before, their early morning departure to Atlanta, and then entertaining the twins for the last couple of hours. The sudden quiet of the room made her shift uncomfortably as the thoughts she’d tried to keep at bay were given rein in her crowded head.

  After a spectacular practice yesterday, Whitey had given the team the weekend off. Amber almost called Tank and asked to leave for Atlanta a day early. But a day early was a night early, and she wasn’t quite ready to spend another night with him. After the day in the film room, she’d found ways to keep her distance, the intensity of their exchange a little too much for her to handle. She’d rather hastily agreed to come here with him, but she needed to remind them both what this was—nothing more than having fun. She planned to manage her feelings for Tank, to truly just hang out with him.

  Amber rubbed her hand over her eyes and then rolled over before getting to her feet. Wandering into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. When she closed the door, she stood, studying the pictures and drawings adhered to the stainless steel with cute little ceramic football magnets. A Christmas picture of her and Andy snagged her attention. They were facing each other, and Andy had his hands on the sides of her face. They wore matching Santa hats and grins, adoring each other with their identical chocolate eyes. A shaft of love pierced through her. She thought about one of her conversations with Franco regarding Molly’s difficulty in mixing her high-powered career with motherhood. For the first time in years, Amber wondered about what she wanted, how she wanted her life to look.

  “I think that’s one of my favorite pictures,” Franco said as he made his way into the room. “Molly had one framed for me to put in my office.” He walked to her and pulled her into a brief hug. Nudging her out of the way, he opened the door and pulled out a water bottle for himself. “I might like it as much as our headset picture.” She smiled at him, easily recalling the picture of her and Franco in the press box during a football game, headsets in place, with identical expressions.

  “I didn’t see it until just now. It’s really good.”

  “It is.” He turned away from the picture. “The As are down. Wanna enjoy the weather on the deck?”

  Amber didn’t answer. She merely turned and walked toward the French doors. Pulling them open, she strolled onto the brick patio and sank into one of the plush chairs. She leaned back and dropped her head.

  When she heard Franco sit, she rolled her head to the side and looked over at him. “These chairs are nicer than anything I have in my house.”

  Franco chuckled. “When I was your age, I was using milk crates as bookshelves. Pretty sure you’re doing better than I was.” He leaned back and dropped his feet onto the coffee table in front of him. “Is something wrong with your car?”

  Amber took a deep breath. She had known this conversation was going to happen, but she’d hoped she could put if off for a little bit longer. She could hedge, but to merely prolong the inevitable didn’t seem like such a good idea.

  “No, I drove over with Tank.” She kept her eyes on her father even though she was tempted to look away.

  He blinked, but no other emotion showed on his face. “Tank Howard?”

  Amber rolled her eyes, not even bothering to answer. Franco looked away from her, surveying the backyard, as if he needed some view that didn’t include her. The silence stretched between them. She waited for him to respond or react, but nothing came. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from him. Outrage, horror, anger? But as they continued to lounge in the crisp April air, Franco’s lack of a reaction bothered her.

  “Nothing?” she asked, unable to sit in silence any longer.

  Franco laughed drily. “What do you want me to say? I haven’t commented on your personal life in years. You want me to start now?”

  Amber shuffled forward in her chair, dropping her elbows onto her knees and plopping her chin on her fists. She didn’t say anything for a moment as she really thought about his response. He was right; she knew that. After their last, most memorable fight, Franco had been careful, allowing her to do whatever she wanted without offering any advice. Even at his wedding, when she’d sobbed in his arms, he hadn’t said anything about her actions.

  “Yes,” she said into the void.

  “Yes what?” Franco asked, studying her.

  She looked directly at him. “I want you to give me your opinion.”

  Franco took a deep breath. “I thought Madison was a good fit for Tank.”

  She halted, a visual flinch at Franco’s brutally honesty. She didn’t know h
ow to respond to Franco’s statement, and he didn’t even try to explain himself. His gaze never wavered from hers. She swallowed audibly, maybe trying to hold down the doubts bubbling like bile in her stomach. Attempting to hide her questions from her father, she looked away from him. Grabbing her water bottle, more for something to do than to quench a thirst, she tried to resume her relaxed, laid-back pose.

  “Just be careful,” Franco warned.

  He might have been about to say more, but the door behind him opened, and Molly came out. She walked to Franco and dropped a kiss on top of his head before turning to Amber. Amber stood, and they embraced warmly.

  “I’m so glad you are here. Were the twins excited?” Molly stepped back and studied Amber. “Did I interrupt something?” she asked.

  Amber loved Molly for many reasons, but one of them was that Molly was always cognizant of Franco’s relationship with his daughter.

  Molly looked back and forth between them. “And did you get a new car?” she asked Amber.

  Her last question made both Amber and Franco laugh.

  “No, it’s a friend’s.”

  “Friend? Right,” Franco interjected sarcastically.

  “What am I missing?” Molly asked.

  Franco stood. He wrapped his arms around Molly and kissed her right below her ear. Amber watched the two of them with a sense of envy she didn’t normally acknowledge. Franco murmured something only Molly could hear. Molly smiled. They were sickeningly in love.

  “I’m going to check on the twins. Do you want something to drink?” Franco asked.

  Molly glanced at her watch and then looked at Franco. “I’ll take a beer.”

  He laughed. “You got it,” he said as he made his way inside.

  Molly dropped into the chair vacated by Franco and looked up at Amber. “Why don’t you tell me what I interrupted?”

  Amber sat and plopped her feet onto the table. Besides Nicky and Steele, Amber was close to two other people—Keira and Molly. So, it didn’t seem weird to want to spill her guts to her father’s wife. She knew she’d have to have this same conversation later tonight with Keira, and she didn’t necessarily mind a practice run. Plus, Molly had a modicum of distance, whereas Keira tended to take Tank’s actions more personally.