“We’ll work that out. I have some ideas. Please, baby. Marry me?”
“Okay. Yes. I will.” Adrenaline pumped through her veins. All signs of weariness vanished as he slipped the ring on her finger. Mrs. Sly Brodsky. Pinch me!
Sly jumped up, grabbing her on the way. He crushed her to him until she couldn’t breathe. Quickly, he released her. “Sorry, sorry, Sam.”
She gulped air. Then, he kissed her, a sweet kiss that turned hot. He angled his head to deepen it. Samantha melted against him. Love swelled her heart while his hard body pumped up her heat. Her fingers pressed into his back, her hips flush with his. When they broke, both were breathing heavy.
“Come on, let’s celebrate, upstairs.” He swooped her up off her feet and carried a laughing Samantha to their bedroom.
****
Sly couldn’t wait to get to the locker room for practice the next day. Though Samantha had already called her brother and Stormy, Sly figured he’d pull one over on the other guys. His broad grin stretched his face as he opened his locker.
“Someone’s having a good day,” Trunk Mahoney observed.
“Yeah. Ask me why. Go ahead, ask me.”
Trunk held up his hands. “Not me. I’m not gonna go there. I don’t want to mess with you.”
“Aw, come on.” Trunk shook his head, so Bull turned to Buddy. “How about you, Carruthers?”
“Who me? Do I look suicidal to you?”
“Come on, come on. Don’t you want to know why I’m smiling?”
“Nope. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
Bull heard a few snickers behind him, but they vanished when he turned around. “Hey, Griff. Come on, buddy. Ask my why I’m smiling.”
“I’m expecting a baby. I can’t mess with you. I’ve got responsibilities.”
“Shit! None of you fuckers are gonna ask me?”
The men couldn’t contain themselves anymore. They burst out laughing. Trunk guffawed so hard he passed gas, which made the men laugh even harder.
Griff Montgomery was the first to slow down enough to speak. “Devon told us already.”
“That rat bastard! That dick! I’ll kill him.”
“He’s gonna be your brother-in-law, Bull, better lay off,” Trunk advised.
“So, you all knew already? You knew that Samantha and I are engaged.”
“Yep. And the biggest surprise was that she agreed when she was sober,” Buddy said.
“Are you sure she was awake? You didn’t slide the ring on while she was sleeping?” Trunk asked.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Not till after the game this week. Congratulations, Bull,” Coach put in.
“Didn’t see you, Coach. Thanks.” Bull calmed down.
“She’s a beautiful girl, smart too. You’re a lucky man.” Coach opened a large envelope. “I’ve got the secret Santa stuff here. Jo’s putting up a sign-up sheet. I hope you’ll all make time for the kids this year.”
“Secret Santa?” Lawson Breaker asked.
“Yeah. We pick the name of a kid who’s living in the shelter and give them what they ask Santa for this year. But we do it anonymously. Mr. Barker throws a Christmas party for the women and the kids at the New Life Shelter. We watch ’em get their presents and eat a bunch of junk food,” Coach Bass explained.
“I’m gonna be Santa this year,” Trunk said, his chest puffing up a little bigger.
“Who said? I called it last year,” Bull said.
“Go fuck yourself, Brodsky. It’s mine this year.”
“Flip you for it.”
“Flip? How about arm wrestle? Or maybe I just deck you.”
“Try, come on, try. I dare you.” Bull motioned with his hands.
“Don’t go there, guys. Come on.” Coach Bass got between the men. “Since Bull just got engaged, that’s enough happiness for one man. Trunk, you get to be Santa.”
Trunk grinned and shot Bull the finger.
“Think you’re hot shit, Mahoney? Wait till you put that suit on. It’s hotter than hell. And the padding. But you may not need as much padding,” Bull said, shooting an evil look at Trunk’s gut.
“Step outside and say that, douchebag.”
“Guys, guys! Save it for the field. We’ve got the Sidewinders coming up in the play-offs. Save your heat for them.”
“Consider them crushed, Coach.” Trunk strutted back to his locker.
The men worked out then hit the gridiron. Griff practiced passing to Buddy and Marquel Johnson. Coach set his offensive line against the defensive line. They battled it out as the QB handed off the ball to running backs, Harley Brennan and Danny Gusto. They stopped short of tackling, but still got in the faces of their teammates.
Afterward, Trunk slung his arm around Bull’s shoulders. “Bull, I’m happy for you. Real happy. She’s a great girl. And lucky to have you.”
Bull cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s up?”
“Nothing. Really. Maybe I wish it was me.”
“You’re married, buddy. To a nice lady.”
“Mary’s okay. You’re happy. And that’s what counts.”
“It does. Thanks, Trunk. Thanks.”
It was five and both men had women to get home to. Bull couldn’t wait to get to the house and his fiancée. Damn, I loved the sound of that word. This time would be different, because it was the right girl. When he opened the door, the aroma of something wonderful coming from the kitchen greeted him.
He walked in to find Samantha with an open beer, dressed in leggings and a T-shirt. No bra. He stared at her chest, watching her breasts jiggle as she laughed.
“Never wear a bra at home,” he muttered, taking his beloved in his arms. This is what I’ve been waiting so long for—the perfect woman, the perfect moment, and all mine.
Chapter Sixteen
Samantha took a few days off to get ready for Christmas. She’d finally descended to Earth after the reality of her engagement to Sly settled in. She’d terminated her lease and moved her meager belongings into Sly’s house. They had argued about where to put things. His loud voice intimidated her, but the resulting tears softened his attitude. She discovered the joys of makeup sex, especially in the huge bathtub in the workout room.
When no one was looking, she’d gaze at her ring. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She hid a few wedding magazines in her drawer, so Sly wouldn’t see them. Almost resigned to giving up a big wedding, she still dreamed of a flowing, white dress, flowers, and a three-tiered cake.
The snow had finally stopped. Roads were fairly clear. She was taking Sly for a drive into the country to buy a Christmas tree.
She’d picked out a special place for lunch, one she’d found in a local magazine. Called the Raymond Stokes Inn, it was the restored house where Mr. Stokes’ family had lived for over two hundred years. Now, it belonged to a retired couple. Devon and Stormy had wangled an invitation to join them.
Bull came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Breakfast dishes done. So, what’s the surprise? A new position? Sexy lingerie?”
She laughed. “You have a one track mind. You’ll never guess. Dress warm. We’re picking up Devon and Stormy in fifteen minutes.”
“Damn. Do we have to share your time off with them?”
“They asked, and then they pushed until I agreed. Come on, big guy. Let’s go.” She grabbed the dishtowel from him and snapped it at his butt.
“Don’t go there, girl. They used to call me the Snapper King.”
She giggled and ran upstairs with him right behind her. He trapped her in the bedroom. She was laughing, trying to slip out the door. With one arm, he lassoed her around the waist, drew her to him, and then tossed her on the bed. He lowered himself and took her mouth in a hungry kiss.
Samantha’s arms encircled his shoulders. Happiness flowed from her toes to her fingertips. “I love you, big guy,” she said, when he let her up for air.
“You’re the best, baby.”
&nb
sp; She reached down and grabbed his sides, tickling him. Sly flinched, laughed, and jerked away. She kept it up until he was a chortling mess on the floor. “No nookie until after the surprise. Now, get dressed.”
He was panting. “God, you had me completely. Don’t tell Horse Jackson, okay?”
They were five minutes late to pick up Devon and Stormy, who were waiting outside. Once they were bundled into the warm car, Devon spoke up. “Don’t tell me why you were late. I don’t want to know.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Just got caught up in dishes and stuff,” Samantha replied.
“Yeah. And stuff. Right.” Devon snickered.
“Don’t be gross, Devon! That’s your sister.” Stormy smacked his shoulder lightly.
“Right or left?” Sly asked.
Samantha had a map out and a flyer with directions. She guided them through the wet streets. Stormy handed her a CD of Christmas music. As they wound their way through the back roads of Connecticut, carols played. They sang along with their favorites. Bull’s voice rang out clear and strong. Samantha sat back, gazing out the window at the beautiful, old homes in typical New England styles, Cape Cod, Saltbox, and an occasional Victorian tucked into small towns. Church steeples rose up from quaint town squares. Snow frosted trees limbs. Lawns were blanketed in pristine white.
“It looks like a fuckin’ Christmas card,” Sly said.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Stormy sighed.
Samantha wondered what the people were like who lived in the dark red or warm beige or soft yellow homes set back a respectable distance from the road. The Victorians had imposing, semi-circular driveways. Are they rich? What do they do for a living? Do they have children? Her mind wandered. Upon spying one grand, three-story home, she imagined sharing it with Sly. She pictured a romantic, nineteenth century wedding on the lawn, with her in an Empire-waist, white gown of a soft, flowing fabric.
“Where do we turn again?” Sly interrupted her dream.
She repeated the directions. Why dream about a romantic wedding if she couldn’t have one?
“There it is,” said Devon. “Murphy’s Christmas Trees. See the sign?”
Bull pulled in. The property was wall-to-wall evergreen trees in every size imaginable, from tiny to massive. The men were to cut down the one they picked.
“Piece of cake,” Bull said. The two couples separated on their search for the perfect tree. She and Sly easily agreed on the height, but he liked bushy and she liked well-defined branches.
“Easier to add decorations,” she explained.
He gave in and applied the axe. An hour and a half after they arrived, two trees were strapped to the roof of Sly’s vehicle.
“They had better not get sap on my car. And no scratches from those damn needles, either.”
“What happened to Christmas spirit? You’re a pioneer. Cut down your own tree. And now, you’re bitching? Come on, Sly, let go. Have some fun. You’re my Paul Bunyon.” Samantha snaked her arms around him and hugged.
“I’m hungry. When do we eat?” He kissed the top of her head.
“That’s next. Let’s see, pull out here and turn left.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the big man said.
Devon and Stormy snuggled together in the backseat.
“Hey! No funny stuff back there,” Bull warned.
“Just keep your eyes on the road, Bull,” Devon piped up.
Stormy chuckled. “He’s just jealous.”
They passed through three small towns before Samantha spotted the sign. “There it is! Pull in. Pull in.”
Piling out of the car, they picked their way carefully through slush to get to the clean path. A small bell gave a delightful tinkle when Sly opened the door.
The warming, cozy scent and heat of a pine fire mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of baking bread. Samantha salivated. The small entryway opened into a gorgeous living room. The foursome took off their boots and left them by the door, as a small sign requested. Two overstuffed loveseats in lively melon, green, and cream chintz faced each other in front of the fireplace. The walls were painted cream, and the molding had been restored to its original wood and polished to a fine patina.
The mantle was white marble, as was the hearth. A pine swag was draped nearby, adding a fresh, outdoorsy scent. There was a Christmas tree in the corner decorated with antique ornaments. Some colorful balls, along with branches, made the mantle festive. Above it was an oil portrait. Samantha guessed the people in the painting were of the era when the house was first built. She picked up a brochure lying on the ornate wrought iron and glass coffee table.
Sam was reading aloud to the others when a woman entered the room. “Welcome. You must be Samantha?” she said, directing her words to the pretty brunette.
“I am.” Sam introduced everyone. The woman, Carolyn Danfield, spoke a few words about the history of the house then showed them into the dining room.
“We’ve been expecting you. Please sit down.”
An older man entered, carrying a basket. After sizing up Bull and Devon, he placed it down on the table. “I can see we’re going to need more bread.” He chuckled.
The men pulled out chairs for the ladies. They all sat down and passed the bread around. There was a special luncheon deal. “I’m Bill Danfield. I’m the family baker. Carolyn runs the Inn. Look over the menu. It’s prix fixe today. Take your time. I’ll get more bread.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Samantha looked around. The dining room had a chair rail, with the walls above decorated in a beautiful wallpaper with a paisley design in several shades of blue interwoven with a metallic gold. The lower part was painted a dark blue, a shade picked up from the paper.
The table was pine, and the chairs were cherry. The floor, slightly uneven, looked like it had the original wood planks and handmade nails. There were sconces on two walls with small, pointed bulbs and candles burning on the table.
The room was festive, with a Christmas wreath hanging on one wall and a holiday tablecloth. The water goblets were filled. The dishes were an old-fashioned rose print Sam guessed to be from around the era when the house was built. Every little detail had been attended to, giving the feeling of having stepped into a time machine.
“It’s like going back in time,” Sly said, fingering the delicate, china-handled butter knife.
“This place is beautiful,” Stormy added, turning her head to look at everything.
“It’s even more beautiful than it looked on the Net,” Samantha agreed.
Devon nodded as he shoveled a piece of buttered bread in his mouth.
The Inn was enchanting. Bill appeared with a second loaf then they ordered their selections. The menu was limited, but managed to cover both hearty fare and lighter.
“I love it here. Do we have to go home?” Stormy asked.
“That was the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life,” Devon put in.
Their meals were as beautifully displayed as the rooms. Sly dug into a full, homemade meatloaf platter. Devon had a generous plate of chicken Alfredo.
“It’s okay, Sly. You’re not eating like that every day, right?” Stormy said.
“Right,” the big man replied, shoveling a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Stormy and Samantha each had baked scallops. They had all enjoyed the Inn’s special New England clam chowder first, so perfect for the chilly day.
They finished up with hazelnut hot chocolate and tiny eclairs.
“I’ve never seen anything like this. Makes me feel like I should be loading my musket and going out to shoot dinner,” Sly said.
“Do you like it?” Sam asked.
“I love it. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been for lunch, or dinner either, for that matter. How about you?”
“I think it’s romantic. I love the idea of you loading your gun and shooting dinner,” she whispered.
“Too bad we’re not alone. We could get a room. I wonder what they look like.” He shot a
hostile glance at Devon, who picked up on it.
“What did I do?”
Would you folks like a tour of the Inn? Maybe you’ll come back again, spend the night?” Carolyn asked.
“We’d love it,” Stormy piped up.
The foursome followed her up narrow stairs. Bull had to turn sideways a bit to fit. Each room was lovelier than the last. But the attic room was Samantha’s favorite.
“This room has two levels. This is the sitting or writing room,” Carolyn said, opening a door to a beautiful space with a cozy sofa, desk, and fireplace. “Up here is the sleeping area.”
They followed up a few steps into a large, open space with a king-size bed. Two skylights brought in the winter sunshine. A window overlooked a meadow and woods. There was a fireplace on the second level too.
“Thank you so much,” Samantha gushed, as they were leaving.
“I’m glad you enjoyed your lunch. We hope you’ll come again,” Carolyn said.
“Something for the road,” Bill added, handing a loaf of bread to Sly.
“Thank you. That’s great.” Sly handed it to Devon. “Leave a little bit for me, will ya?” He opened the door and let the others go first. Before leaving, Bull slipped the Inn’s business card into his pocket.
****
When they returned, each couple went home to put up their tree. Samantha played Christmas music on her laptop.
“Hey, baby. Turn that off,” Sly said, as he descended the stairs into the basement. A few moments later, a deep and glorious sound surrounded her. It was Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas.”
“I had a whole sound system put in a year ago.”
“Oh my God, Sly, it’s great. Wow, feels like he’s right here in your living room singing.”
“Our living room, honey. Ours.” Bull pulled the stand out of one bag and wrestled the tree into position. Samantha stood back giving instructions while he leveled it. Then, she unpacked all the decorations they had bought.
While she was working, Sly called up a couple of his teammates and invited them over. He ordered a dozen pizzas. “Party time, baby,” he said, kissing her quickly.
Sly Bullhorn Brodsky Page 19
