He turned up his collar against the bone-chilling wind whipping along the sidewalk. A quick glance at the parking lot didn’t reveal Lauren’s vehicle. She’s late. Not like her. His brow furrowed.
He checked the time again then met his lawyer in the lobby. “Lauren still not here?”
“Let’s go in. Maybe she slipped by when I wasn’t looking.”
The two men entered the large room where a trial was in progress. They found seats in the back and sat quietly as the opposing attorneys argued their cases. Griff’s gaze searched the area, but no sign of Lauren. He spotted her attorney, who acknowledged him with a brief nod.
Shifting in his seat, the quarterback gazed out the window. A crease formed between his eyebrows as worry about Lauren grew in his heart. I hope nothing’s happened to her. He smiled at his foolish anxiety. Nothing ever happens to people. Probably a new assignment, and she got busy. The bailiff interrupted his concern by calling his case.
“Where’s your client, Ms. Chase?” the judge asked.
“Her brother called. Seems there’s been a death in the family.”
Griff’s breath caught in his throat. “Her father?”
“I think so,” Marcy said.
“Well, we can proceed, anyway. The court would like a statement from you, Mr. Montgomery, on Ms. Farraday’s fitness to own Spike.”
Griff stated that he thought Lauren treated the pug extremely well and should keep Spike. The judge ruled in her favor. After a quick handshake with his attorney and a few autographs, the quarterback headed for his car. He sped to the highway heading north.
Once he got to Providence, he pulled over to send a text to Don. He got a response right away with the address he needed. He drove slowly to the grassy hill, where a woman in dark clothing sat in a folding chair. Two burly men shoveled dirt into an open grave while she watched. She was alone. Griff crept closer, quietly. He heard her soft cries and watched her twist a handkerchief in her ungloved hands.
“Lauren?” he asked, gently.
She turned abruptly, staring at him with full eyes.
“You okay?”
She shook her head.
Griff was beside her in a second, yanking her up and into his embrace. He hugged her hard, holding her against him. A sob broke through. Her body trembled against his as she cried into his coat. He stroked her hair.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t text or leave a note or anything.”
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “There wasn’t time.”
“The call last night?”
“Yeah. Don said to come quickly. Dad was fading fast.”
“Did you make it?”
“Not by much. Maybe five or ten minutes before he passed.”
“Baby, are you okay?”
She simply snuggled into his chest.
He palmed the back of her head and kissed her hair. “The judge decided in your favor.”
“Oh my God. I totally forgot. Was he mad I wasn’t there?”
“Your lawyer explained. That’s how I found out. Then, I gave you the thumbs up.”
“Thank you.” She clung to him. “And thank you for coming.”
“Of course. What can I do?”
“You’re doing it.”
* * * *
Griff met Buddy on Saturday morning. They took a run around Monroe high school’s track then headed toward Main Street to do some shopping. Christmas was in the air. The street, running through downtown, was decorated with garlands and tiny, white lights. Stores had holiday windows—some with miniature towns, some with Santa Claus and other holiday scenes.
Griff’s favorite store, The Beloved Knickknack, had the model train set-up they did every year, with little towns, people, houses, and the sound of a train whistle every couple of minutes.
“Gotta get something for my mom,” Buddy said, stopping to look in The Cottage’s window.
“Yeah? Like what?”
Buddy shrugged.
“Are you buying something for Christy?”
“I have to. She’ll probably get me something. Let’s go in there. I’ll get her one of those sweaters,” Buddy said, pointing to the display.
The men entered the shop. A middle-aged woman met them and steered Buddy to the angora sweaters he had seen.
“What size do you need?” the saleslady asked.
Buddy made a gesture toward his chest with both hands cupped then blushed. Griff cracked up.
“Oh, my. I see,” said the woman, turning an attractive shade of pink. “Perhaps large, then?”
Buddy nodded. “I like the black one.”
“Shall I giftwrap it?”
“Please.” Buddy drew out his wallet and handed her his credit card.
“Remind me never to go shopping with you again,” Griff muttered, pretending to look at some nightgowns on a rack.
“Well, how the hell do I know what size? They’re big. I guess ‘large’ is the right word.”
The woman returned with the package wrapped and sitting in a colorful shopping bag. “If the size is wrong, she can return it, Mr. Carruthers.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell her.” He took the purchase and headed for the door. Griff followed behind. “You’re not buying anything for Lauren?” Buddy turned to his friend.
“Yeah, but not there.”
They continued to walk, stopping to look at windows and talk about presents. Griff bought his father a book about the history of football at The Beloved Knickknack. They strolled along, discussing where to have lunch. Griff stopped in front of Solomon’s Jewelry. Right in the window, he saw the perfect gift for Lauren. They went inside.
“Well, well, Mr. Montgomery. Griff. How nice to see you in our store,” Hal Solomon said.
“You put that in the window just for me, didn’t you?”
The jeweler laughed.
“I’ll take it, but I want something added.”
“Of course.”
While they talked, Buddy roamed. “Hey, Griff! Look at this. Mom’s birthstone, emerald, in earrings, necklace, and matching bracelet.”
Griff finished up his conversation and joined his friend. “Get it.”
“I will. She’ll flip. She manages my money. When she sees this come up on my card, she’ll think I’m getting engaged.”
“Will she be pissed off when she finds out you’re not?”
“Nah. This present oughta make up for it. I’ll take it, all of it,” Buddy said, turning to Mr. Solomon.
“Wrapped separately or together?”
“Separately, please.” Buddy tossed his credit card on the counter.
“The engraver is working on yours, Griff. It’ll be ready in a minute.”
Fifteen minutes later, the men left the store, their shopping completed.
“Let’s go to The Savage Beast.”
“It’s only two,” Griff replied.
“Come on. I need a beer. Don’t usually spend this much money in one day.”
“You’re a fucking tight ass, Buddy. Know that?”
“Yeah. So what? I’ll have plenty of money to retire when my knee blows out.”
Griff shook his head as he slipped behind the wheel.
The sign read “Closed” when they pulled up. Griff opened his door.
“It’s closed,” Buddy said, placing his hand on his friend’s forearm.
“But I see Carla inside. She always opens up for me.”
“Yeah, I get it. But the bar’s closed.” Buddy snickered.
“Mind in the gutter,” Griff admonished, easing out of the seat.
“Right next to yours!”
They ambled to the front door. Griff knocked.
“Can’t ya read? We’re closed!” came the reply.
“It’s me, Carla.”
After a few moments of silence, the sound of feet shuffling in their direction made Griff smile.
She opened the door, an unfriendly expression on her face. “What do you want?”
&nb
sp; “Can we get a couple of your great burgers and a beer?”
“One beer? Two straws?”
Griff grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl and never have been. Can’t turn away hungry football players. Come on in.” She stepped back and moved toward the bar. The men followed, Buddy closing the door behind him. She plopped two menus down on a table close by. “I don’t have to walk so far.”
“Hard night?” Griff cocked an eyebrow at her. A frown claimed his lips.
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Hard enough, playboy. What’ll it be?”
They ordered blue cheese burgers, fries, and beer.
When she left, Buddy lowered his voice. “I thought she used to be your chick here at home?”
“Used to.”
“Oh, yeah. That name thing. You’ll never do that again. Lauren’s pretty hot.”
“Lauren’s a nice person. She’s sweet.”
“And hot.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
Carla set two beers down on the table and returned to the kitchen.
Buddy took a drink. “Carla’s hot, too. How’d you choose?”
“Choice isn’t always mine, dumbass.”
She returned with two plates filled with hot food.
Buddy licked his lips. “Looks great, Carla.”
“Thanks.”
“So do you.” His gaze slipped up her body. She arched an eyebrow. “Busy tomorrow night?”
“Workin’. Besides, I’ve sworn off football players.”
“Who’s your new guy?” Griff asked, raising his burger to his mouth.
“None of your business. He’s a manager, in a big store. Huge. No more athletes.”
Griff laughed. “Can’t blame you. Hope it works out.”
“It’s workin’ out fine.” She winked at him and sashayed out.
Buddy’s gaze followed the swing of her hips.
“Stop staring,” Griff said.
“It’s a better view than your ugly mug.”
“Asshole.”
“Jerk.”
Silence prevailed as the men tucked into their food. The only sound was faint laughter seeping in from the kitchen.
Griff’s phone rang. It was Keen Barstow, his agent.
“Hey, Keen. What’s up?” Griff lounged back in his chair.
“You’ve had a great year.”
“Thanks.”
“So, I thought I’d start negotiation on your contract early.”
“But it’s not up until June.”
“Strike while the iron’s hot.”
Griff smiled. “And?”
“They want to talk. Looks like another three years and a twenty-five percent raise.”
Griff whistled. “That’s fantastic.”
“Keep it up, buddy. It depends on how you finish out the season. So focus and kill it.”
“This is great news. Thanks.”
“Gotta keep you big boys happy. I’m not finished, yet. But it’s looking good.”
“Great.”
“Just don’t fuck it up.”
Griff laughed and ended the call.
“You like him?” Buddy asked, taking a bite.
“Yeah. He’s partners with Faith Brecken at Brecken and Magic.”
“They any good?”
“I think so. He’s already started negotiating my new contract. Old one isn’t up till June.”
“That’s pretty good.”
“He always gets me a sweet deal.”
“This time, too?”
“Yeah.” Griff extended his long legs. “Changes everything. Three more years. Guaranteed.”
Chapter Fifteen
“The Sweet Magnolia? Are you celebrating?” Lauren fastened a diamond earring in her ear.
“Sort of. My agent’s started contract negotiations. Looks good. More money and three more years.”
“Congratulations.” She freshened her coral lipstick, smoothed down her black velvet jacket over matching skirt, and looked up.
“Thanks. You look beautiful.” Griff’s gaze perused her, lingering a bit too long on her chest and the gold camisole she wore. His stare started a tiny shiver up her spine. Her skin tingled, and her nipples hardened. “Gorgeous,” he muttered, as he opened the door for her and they headed for the car.
The maître d’ showed them to a quiet table in the corner. Griff held out her chair then ordered his favorite champagne, Moët et Chandon. They sat quietly while the server poured then returned it to the ice bucket.
Griff raised his glass. “To three more years of healthy football with the Kings.”
Lauren touched hers to his then drank. The bubbly tasted exquisite. “Maybe more than three years.”
“One contract at a time. Let’s talk about us.”
Lauren choked on her beverage. The waiter stopped by with a glass of water and menus. They ordered, and then Lauren sat back. “Us? Is there an us?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about. I like what we have. But, well, I’m ready for more.”
Her eyes got wide. “More?”
“A commitment. I want to know when I’m out of town, that you’re not dating anyone else.”
She looked at him, not daring to hope she’d heard correctly.
Griff took her hand. “Lauren, we’re good together.”
“What about you?”
“I’m willing to make that commitment, too. When I’m out of town, I’ll be a good boy. What do you say?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Come on. We get along so well. You and me.” He leaned over and kissed her.
Love. I’m not hearing the word “love.” “I don’t know, Griff. I’ve told you I have no intention of getting married.”
“This isn’t a marriage proposal…”
She moved away a few inches. “We get along great?”
“Yeah. Something wrong with that?”
“You make it sound like a business arrangement.”
“Hey, okay, I’m not good with words.” He looked at his hands.
“You’re missing one important thing.”
They sat quietly while the server placed plates with artfully displayed slices of beef tenderloin, tiny fingerling potatoes, and haricots verts in front of them. The tempting aroma made Lauren’s stomach rumble. This gorgeous man is asking for a commitment, and I’m thinking about food? Really?
“What do you want me to say?” He picked up his knife and fork.
“Nothing. Not if you don’t feel it.” She speared a bean.
“Oh, I get it. I can be dense sometimes. You want me to say I love you?”
Her eyes filled. “Gee, isn’t that romantic? I don’t want you to say anything that isn’t true.”
“I thought that was obvious.” He put a piece of beef in his mouth.
“Wrong. It’s not love for you, it’s convenience. I’m there. I’m willing.” Her throat closed for a moment. She blinked rapidly, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“I wanted this to be a special dinner. Romantic. And now, you’re pissed and crying, and I don’t know what I did.” He shrugged.
“You didn’t do anything. That’s the point.”
Griff put down his utensils and skidded her chair across the floor, up against his. He leaned over and kissed her, hard. “I love you,” he whispered.
Lauren caught her breath.
“Guess I needed to say it. Thought you’d have figured it out.”
“No one figures that out. It needs to be said.”
“Okay, so now it’s your turn.”
“Do you want me to say it because it’s my turn?” She moved her chair back and resumed eating.
“Of course not. I want you to say it because you mean it.”
She ate in silence.
“So, you don’t?”
She glanced up in time to see hurt flash across his features. She folded her fingers over his. “Of course, I love you.”
“Do you? Why?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Because you’re funny, sexy, handsome, smart, good to me…do I need to go on?”
He grinned. “Hell, yeah. Lovin’ this.”
She chuckled. “Okay, because you respect me and my house. And, finally, you love my dog.”
“That last one is true. I do love Spike.”
They ate in silence for a while. The waiter brought a lit candle to their table, refilled their flutes, and then disappeared. Soft music came on, and the lights dimmed.
“This is beautiful. Romantic.” Is it the champagne, the music, or Griff? Maybe all three?
He took her hand with both of his. “That’s what I want. Romantic. With you. Say you’ll give exclusivity a try.”
She laughed. “I’m already exclusive.”
“You are?” He lifted his eyebrows.
Lauren leaned over, kissed him, and whispered, “I love you means I don’t want anyone else.” She peered up through her blackened lashes at him.
His eyes glowed in the dim light. His smile grew brighter, as he clasped her hands. “Baby, you make me very happy.” He kissed her palms.
The clearing of a throat called their attention to the presence of the server. “Dessert?”
“Share?” Griff looked at Lauren. She nodded. “You pick.”
“The chocolate lava cake, of course.”
The waiter nodded, bowed, and then disappeared. About five minutes later, he returned with the amazing sweet.
Griff scooped up some of the warm cake and liquid filling on a spoon. He dabbed it in the whipped cream and served it to Lauren. She slipped the confection off the utensil with her lips then licked it, all the while staring up into Griff’s dark eyes. Her pulse quickened as desire swept over his features.
They took turns feeding each other. Every bite, each lick, took on another meaning as their gazes held and the chocolate inspired their passion. People at other tables were staring, but Griff and Lauren only had eyes for each other. When the dessert was gone, Griff dropped a bunch of big bills on the table, and they left. He raced home, surpassing the speed limit. They hurried into the house, toeing off their shoes at the door.
Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 17
