Devon Drake, Cornerback

by Jean C. Joachim

  “I know. He’s going to hire you, and so is Sly.”

  “Really? That would be great. I could work out special food plans for each of them.”

  “Maybe Dev could get to know Sly a little. I mean, if they’re eating the same food.”

  “They may not be eating the same food, but if I made it here, you could deliver it to him. Would that work?”

  Samantha smiled. “You are a true friend.”

  “I’m not scheming or anything. It would need to be delivered, and you’d be doing me a favor. Maybe I could even pay you something. A delivery fee?”

  Samantha patted the redhead’s arm. “You don’t have to pay me anything.”

  “That way it wouldn’t be secret or anything.”

  “I’m not telling Dev, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I need to back out of this. I’ll give you the food and instructions. Whether you tell your brother or not is your business.”

  “Right.”

  “Stormy. I need you,” a sleepy, masculine voice called.

  “Seems as if the monster is up,” Sam said, sipping a fresh cup.

  “I guess so. Up and needing help.”

  “Better you than me.” The brunette pushed to her feet.

  * * * *

  Devon hobbled into the locker room at the stadium. He sank down on a bench. Depression engulfed him. Then, a deep voice startled him.

  “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting,” Coach Bass said.

  “Doc wanted to see me. He said something about tests and rehab.”

  Coach nodded and kept moving across the room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The older man stopped. “What?”

  “I lost the game for us. I’m sorry.”

  The coach lingered in the doorway. He braced his arms against the jambs and sighed. “Devon, you didn’t lose the game for us.”

  “I did. I didn’t stop Lucas.”

  “You did stop Lucas. And Willis too.”

  “But I didn’t intercept, just knocked down the ball. I didn’t get there in time, didn’t position myself right, didn’t—”

  “Stop! Come on, Drake. You know this is a team sport. We lost because they were just better. That’s all. No one’s fault.”

  “I need to step up my game.”

  “Everyone does. And if we all do, next time, we’ll win.”

  “Okay. I get it.”

  “First, get that ankle better. Then, you can train. Train your ass off.”

  “I will, Coach. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  The Coach stepped into the room to ruffle Drake’s hair. “You didn’t let me down. Don’t worry. Stress doesn’t help. Just get better. We’re starting training camp earlier this year.”

  “I’m getting rid of this gut too,” the cornerback said, smacking his stomach.

  “That wouldn’t hurt. You and Bull.”

  “My friend, Stormy, is a nutritionist. She’s going to get me on the right track.”

  “Good idea. Next year’ll be better. Take it easy, kid.”

  Devon nodded as the coach headed for the hall. Drake hung his coat in his locker then limped down to the doctor’s office.

  After more examinations, the medic sat across from Devon at a desk. “We call the treatment R.I.C.E. , for short.”

  “Rice?”

  “Rest, icing, compression, and elevation. That tells you what to do. Just don’t keep the ice on too long, you’ll freeze your tissues, and that’s not good. On, off, on, off.”

  “Got it. Can I go?”

  “Come back in a week. I’ll give you some exercises, if you’re ready. We need to get you fixed up so you can run full speed again.”

  “Right. Will do. Thanks, doc.”

  “Good luck. Remember, R.I.C.E.”

  Devon nodded. He sent a text and waited by the door for Stormy. She arrived in ten minutes.

  He eased himself into the front seat next to her. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t be thanking me. I’m gonna be doing this a lot.”

  “Right.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  He filled her in then sat back and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t get too relaxed. We have a lot of work to do. First, I have some menus for you. We need to talk about what you don’t like and what you’re allergic to.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then, I’m going to make it, and you’re going to eat it. No more donuts. No pizza. No soft drinks. One beer a day.”

  “One beer?”

  “That’s right. We’ll have you back to your proper weight before you know it.”

  “Then I can have donuts?”

  “One, maybe. As a treat. This is an eating plan for you to use, like, forever.”

  “Forever is a long time. One beer a day forever doesn’t cut it.”

  “Let’s take it one day at a time. See how you do.”

  “And who’s going to judge, you?” He raised his eyebrows, shooting her a cool stare.

  “Yep. Me. Got a problem with that?” She maneuvered the car onto their block.

  He swallowed, glanced out the window, then at her. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

  “Good. And we start today. I went grocery shopping while you were at the doctor’s.”

  “What’s this gonna cost me?”

  “Since I’m doing this for Bull too, I’m giving you a break.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How much?”

  “Three hundred a week, apiece, and that includes food, preparation, and delivery.”

  “Twelve hundred a month. And you make the food?”

  “Yep. And serve it too.”

  “Deal. What about Bull?”

  “He said I was too cheap.”

  Devon laughed.

  Stormy pulled into the driveway. He pulled the crutch out of the back seat. “Wait for me. It’s slippery.” She held his left hand tightly between both of hers, chuckling.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “It kinda is. You leaning on me. Not sure I’m much help to you.”

  “It doesn’t feel funny. You’re keeping me steady.”

  “I’m sorry. You must be in pain.”

  “Time for RICE, remember?”

  “I was listening. Rest, icing, compression, and elevation. Let’s get you inside.”

  When they entered the house, Devon headed for the sofa and removed the boot. Stormy retrieved an ice pack from the freezer and elevated his foot.

  “What are you going to feed me? Alfalfa sprouts and lettuce?”

  “Let me go check the menu.”

  “Menu? Do I get to see that?”

  “If you behave. Do you have pain meds?” she asked.

  “The doctor said to take three or four ibuprofen.”

  “I’ll get them. You have to eat when you take those.”

  “I’m not hungry.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  He’s pouting, like a little kid. She turned away to hide a smile. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

  Devon followed her, giving the ice a rest. Watching her work with food always spiked his appetite. In the kitchen, Stormy pulled out cold leftover steak, tomatoes, purple onion, low fat mayo, and challah rolls. She made three small sandwiches each with several, thin slices of steak topped by some tomato and onion. She poured a glass of low-fat milk and ladled several citrus fruit sections, from the salad she’d made, into a small bowl.

  Samantha barged into the room, yelling. She stopped in front of Devon, placing her fists on her hips, her stance wide. “You can’t keep me from seeing someone I want to see.”

  “You’re living in my house? My rules. Stay away from the guys on the team.”

  Staying silent, Stormy put the food down on the table in front of him.

  “You can’t control me.”

  Stormy opened a container and spilled three pills into her palm. She offered them to Devon.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt. Don’t you understand that?” H
e popped the medicine in his mouth and washed it down with milk.

  “You’re saying your teammates aren’t trustworthy?”

  “I don’t know who is and who isn’t. Just stay away from them. You’ll be better off.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Devon turned his attention to the meal. “This looks great.” He picked up a small sandwich and took a bite.

  “You can’t control me. So don’t try.” Samantha grabbed his drink and took a healthy swallow.

  “I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to protect you. Can’t you see that?” His voice rose. “Hey, that’s my milk.”

  “I’m sorry you’re injured, but I’m going to live my own life. I’ve taken a job. I’m going to save up and get my own place.”

  “What?” Devon’s head snapped up.

  “That’s right. Time for me to be on my own.”

  She strode from the room.

  “Samantha! Samantha,” he called. Silence greeted him. “Samantha Jane Drake!”

  The only sound was the slamming of her door.

  Chapter Eight

  Although there were no more football games for a few months, work in the front office didn’t stop. Jo Parker took her suit jacket off and draped it on the back of her desk chair. Now that the season was over, her fiancé, Pete Sebastian, the coach, would amble in later, but she had plenty of work to do now. There were interviews to set up before the next season began and events to plan to support New Life. Lyle Barker, team owner, had okayed Jo’s plans to raise money for the local shelter for battered women and children.

  After the successful fundraisers last year, Jo had a challenging task to come up with bigger and better programs. She worked to keep The Connecticut Kings’ name in front of the public in a positive way.

  And then, she had a wedding to plan. Her own, this time. After a year’s courtship, the couple had decided to tie the knot before training camp in July. This was February. Jo chewed a nail as she contemplated putting on such a grand event in such a short time. She needed help, so she’d hired Samantha Drake. The knock on her door snapped her to attention.

  “Hi, Ms. Parker. I’m here. Ready to go.” Samantha stood at the door wearing a simple, black, wool skirt, turquoise sweater, and black suede boots.

  “Come in, come in, Sam. Please, call me Jo.” The blonde stood up and offered her new employee the chair facing her desk.

  “What exactly is this job about?”

  “I’m planning my wedding and won’t be able to take care of everything I need to do to set up the King’s publicity for the next year. So, I need your help with that.”

  Samantha’s face lit up. “How about help with the wedding?”

  “I can’t ask Lyle to pay your salary to help me plan my wedding.”

  “Can I do it in my spare time? I’d work overtime to get the Kings’ stuff done so I could do the wedding with you.”

  Jo smiled. “That’s sweet. I’d love it. I have no time, and I need to get so much done.”

  “Do you have anything you can use from Emmy and Buddy’s?”

  “I have a list of suppliers. You know, florists, photographers. Mine’s going to be at the country club. Lyle generously offered to use his membership to reserve the space there for the ceremony and reception.”

  “Shouldn’t we start with the guest list?” Sam fished a steno pad and a pen from her bag.

  Jo chewed her lip. “I guess so. I only have a couple of people to invite.”

  “Is Coach going to invite the whole team?”

  “I don’t see how we can avoid that. I wanted to have something simple, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”

  “Let’s see,” Samantha began to write. “The whole team. Coach, his daughters, any other family?”

  “His brother and his family. His parents might be too far away.”

  “I doubt that. For their son’s wedding? Friends?”

  “Outside of the Kings, I don’t know.”

  “And you?”

  “My parents. My best friend, Beth. Mitzi? Maybe. That’s it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I travel solo.”

  “If I add all those together, I’m coming up with about seventy-five, no, maybe a hundred people, if you add in all the trainers and staff.”

  “That’s much bigger than I thought. But it is what it is.”

  “Did you pick a date?”

  “I always wanted to be a June bride. So, it’s June fifteenth. Gives us time for a brief honeymoon before training camp starts.”

  Samantha took notes as Jo continued to add items to the to-do list. “Whew! This is some list.”

  “I think we have to get the dress pretty soon, as it takes a long time for alterations. Emmy’s was a rush job that took six weeks.”

  “Ooohhh, the dress! Can I come?”

  Jo smiled. “Of course.”

  “Is your mom going to help?”

  Jo’s face clouded. “She’s in Seattle, heading to Canada. She won’t be involved.”

  An awkward silence filled the room like chilly fog.

  Samantha shifted in her seat. “Are they coming to the wedding?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A slight intake of breath made Jo flush.

  “If I have to, I can ask Lyle to walk me down the aisle. We’ll plan the wedding ourselves. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Let’s make a list of stores that sell wedding dresses here in Connecticut. If I can’t find anything here, I’ll have to go to New York.”

  The day passed quickly for Jo. She wove in tasks for the Kings, like contacting her media sources to set up interviews for the next few months, with wedding duties, like making lists of caterers, shops, and dressmakers.

  At the end of the day, her head was spinning. The New Haven Register or Pink roses? Strapless dress or a Thanksgiving scavenger hunt for the kids at the shelter? Decisions, options, and ideas all jumbled together into one big mess in her head. At five, she and Samantha parted. Jo joined Pete, who sat in his office, feet up on his desk, while he shot balled up paper at his waste basket.

  “Done, baby?” he asked.

  “I have a headache,” she said, plopping down in a comfortable chair.

  “Problems already? The season is a long way off.”

  “But the wedding is coming up.”

  Pete lowered his legs and sat up. “Hey, if it’s too big a pain in the ass, we can elope.”

  “I’ve never been married before. I want a real wedding.” She trained big blue eyes on him.

  “I want you to have whatever you want. Spare no expense. I mean, don’t hire The Mormon Tabernacle Choir or anything. But within reason, sweetheart. I want you to be happy.” He leaned over to kiss her.

  “Let’s go. I need a drink.”

  They bundled into his car, blasting the heat.

  Jo sat back. “Do we have to invite the whole team?”

  Pete drew a breath as he maneuvered the vehicle over an icy road. “Well, where do I draw the line? I mean, just starting players? I don’t want to piss anyone off. Is it a problem to invite them all?”

  “I’m sure they won’t all come, but it’s a pretty big number. The team outnumbers family and friends combined.”

  “They are my family and friends.”

  “Okay. All right. We’ll invite the whole team.”

  “Thanks. It’s hard enough to get some of them to do what they’re supposed to do without them being pissed off because they didn’t get an invite to our wedding.”

  When they reached the house, Pete headed for the fireplace while Jo pulled out leftovers. After getting the fire started, he poured two small snifters of brandy. Jo made plates, and they ate, sitting cross-legged in front of the flames.

  After dinner, Jo sipped the smooth, amber liquid while Pete massaged her shoulders. As the tension drained out of her, she put her own worries aside to focus on her lover. “Are you depressed
about the Super Bowl?”

  “A little.”

  “Why didn’t we win?” Her muscles loosened up under his touch.

  “Screwing up. Too many guys not performing. Too many penalties. Remind me we need to have some drills on how to avoid them during camp.”

  “So, it’s everyone’s fault?” She lowered her head so he could reach the back of her neck.

  “Yeah. No one’s fault really. The Sidewinders were just better. They completed more passes, interrupted more of our plays, ran faster, blocked harder. And did it cleaner. We had fifty percent more penalties than they did. They were just better, damn it.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “It’s hard to win two years in a row. But now, I know them. Their strengths and weaknesses. I’m gonna train the shit out of our guys at camp, and we’re gonna win next season.”

  “I bet you will.” She flinched at his strong grip. “Ouch. Take it easy.”

  “Sorry, honey. Sorry.” He relaxed his hold then kissed the back of her neck.

  She sighed as his hands wandered over her shoulders and down her chest to cup her breasts.

  “Think I know something that’d relieve tension,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

  Jo arched her back, pushing her flesh into his palms. “That would do it.”

  He released her and straightened up. When she turned to face him, he wiggled his eyebrows. Jo giggled and slapped his shoulder gently. Pete pushed to his feet, opening his arms. She was in his embrace within seconds. His mouth descended on hers for a passionate kiss.

  They separated. Coach extended his hand and led her up the stairs to their bedroom facing the ocean. She hummed. Making love with Pete was her favorite cure for almost anything.

  * * * *

  Across town

  Samantha was the first one up. Excited about her new job, she ripped down the covers and bounded out of bed. During the day, she worked with Jo Parker. Two evenings a week, she’d continue volunteering at the New Life shelter. She aimed to stay far away from her brother.

  Most of the men on the team didn’t come to the stadium right after the season ended, even to work out. They took a month off. But some of the single guys still got together in the weight room. Bullhorn Brodsky hung out there, lifting almost every day. It was inevitable that Sam run into him. They almost collided in the small kitchen.