Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver (First & Ten series, book 2)

Chapter One Buddy slowly tore out the page in Celebs ‘R Us magazine. He smoothed his hand over the gorgeous photo of the stunning rock star, Emerald. Why aren’t you here with me? After a glance at his watch, he pushed to his feet. Trotting through the hallway, he made it to the locker room with ten minutes to spare. “Whatcha got there, shrimp?” Bullhorn Brodsky asked. “None of your fuckin’ business,” Buddy said, plucking the paper from the meaty hand of the linebacker and laying it on the shelf in his locker. Before he could close the door, Brodsky, six four, two hundred and thirty pounds, shoved the five foot ten player aside. The big man stuffed his massive paw in the narrow space and snatched the photo back. He held it high, so Buddy couldn’t reach it. “Lookie, lookie, a pin up of Emerald. In a bikini, too.” The players hooted and hollered. “Like she’d ever look at you, shrimp. Jack off material?” “Shut the f**k up, you fat asshole. Gimme that,” Buddy snarled. “Who you callin’ fat?” Strong fingers crumpled the page. “The guy with three inches hangin’ over his belt, dickwad.” Bull’s eyes widened as he went for the nimble runner. Griff Montgomery, starting quarterback, stepped between the two men. “Come on, guys. Give Buddy his picture, Bull.” The big man handed it over. “I hear she’s gonna pose for Playboy. Now that’d be jack off material.” Buddy got sick to his stomach at the thought of Bull leering at a naked Emerald while jerking off. He flew at the linebacker. His fist connected with his teammate’s nose. “Hey! Hey, break it up!” Griff tried to get between them again. Trunk Mahoney and another large linebacker entered the fray and pulled the men apart. Buddy’s nose was bleeding. So was Bull’s. “Somebody’s got a crush,” Bull teased, in a sing-song voice. “Shut the f**k up,” Griff said. “Assholes. You could get fined for this. Both of you.” “The way he’s actin’, you’d think she was his girlfriend.” Bull gently touched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah? Wouldn’t you be surprised,” Buddy muttered, grabbing a towel and his shoulder pads. After wiping off his face, he finished getting suited up to play. But his thoughts were far from the gridiron. They were squarely planted in a bus station in Willow Falls, New York, five years ago, where he said goodbye to the girl they now called “Emerald.” Emmy Meacham, her name before she became famous, had been Buddy’s girlfriend in college. Though they had parted ways before she hit it big, his love for her had never died. She looked the same, except for a streak of bright green in her now-short hair. His blood heated simply looking at her petite, well-endowed frame. Her mischievous smile practically winked at him off the page. Her eyes glowed with promise, promise that she and Buddy had fulfilled in college. His fingers tingled at the memory of her soft skin. He’d slept with a mountain of women in the last five years, but none could compare to Emmy. Still miffed that the badly wrinkled clipping wouldn’t be worth saving, Buddy decided to reorder last month’s issue, so he could get a pristine copy of the amazing photograph. When he remembered that she had dumped him immediately following their tender goodbye, his jaw stiffened. She had turned her back on him the minute she left. He hadn’t heard from her since. Now, little Emmy Meacham was Emerald, a big rock star. The wound, still painful after five years, refused to heal. “Focus, Buddy. We’ve got a game,” Griff said, patting his pal on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Buddy put his feelings for Emmy into the cold storage section of his heart and turned the key. After a deep breath, he shook out his arms, twisted his neck to loosen the muscles, and knocked off a bottle of water. Griff tossed him a jersey with number fifteen on the back. He smiled. “Ready, Griff.” The warmth of understanding in his friend’s smile made Buddy uneasy. He didn’t want anyone to know about Emmy. Only his mother knew of his heartbreak. The team all thought he was a womanizer with a heart of stone. He liked it that way. Fewer questions, fewer lies, and he kept his secret well hidden. His teammates joined the others heading for the field. They lined up and stopped. Standing next to Tony Harrison, back-up quarterback, Buddy rested his hand over his heart, like his mother had taught him, waiting for the National Anthem. Harrison looked like he didn’t know what to do. What the hell? What did he do at the million college games he played? Buddy nudged the young recruit and motioned the boy to follow his lead. The newbie grinned. Little asshole is relieved he knows what to do. Buddy gave his head a shake. A sexy female in very high heels trotted out onto the field, and the crowd went wild. Buddy rubbed his eyes. His brow creased. He stared in disbelief. “It can’t be.” * * * * Emmy had never sung the Star Spangled Banner in public as a solo before. She was nervous singing such a challenging melody. She glanced toward the left and saw The Kings in their dark turquoise and white uniforms. Those are the best colors. The opposing team was clad in dark blue and white. So unoriginal. She waved to the fans as they cheered her, but her eye kept perusing the Kings’ players, searching for Buddy. He’s gotta be there. Isn’t this why you told Stash you’d take this gig? Two military men raised their trumpets, and Emmy began to sing. She transformed from sweet Emmy Meacham to Emerald as the emotion behind the song gripped her guts. When she finished, the spectators went crazy, cheering. She took her bow and raised her arms. The players put their helmets on, destroying her chance to catch a glimpse of her old boyfriend. Without knowing what his number was, she’d never recognize him with all the padding and the face mask. Stash Mullins, Emerald’s manager, appeared at her elbow. “Come on. We’ve got V.I.P. seats for the game.” He ushered her to a box seat in the front row. Her heart did a flip-flop when she realized she’d be watching Buddy play. It had been years since she had last seen him. Does he know it’s me? Will he recognize me? She fingered her locks. Last time Buddy had seen her, her hair was long and a mahogany brown, not black. And it didn’t have that distinctive streak of emerald green. Five years, yet it seems like a lifetime. Emmy thought back to the insecure, little girl she had been at twenty-two when she had left school, eager to start a career as a rock singer. Buddy had been her world, and she had been his. Or so she’d thought. The memory of the tender moment they had shared at the bus station brought emotion to her chest. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his fingers the last time he had squeezed her hand and hear the promises they had made. As the vehicle had ferried her down the road to her new life, she had looked back until she couldn’t see him anymore. She wondered if his hand in hers would feel the same now. What about those declarations? They were long gone. Stash Mullins, the guy who landed her the first gig, had been by her side. But it was Buddy she had wanted. His career had been uncertain. She had left one month before the NFL draft. That was the last time she had seen or heard from him. Clearly, the big NFL star had no longer wanted anything to do with a nobody, country girl trying to find fame. She shook her head to push the painful memories away. He’s probably got some double D cheerleader warming his bed. Forget him. Yet, she didn’t believe her own rationale. The only thing that would erase Buddy from her heart was if he was married. And even then, deep down inside, she wasn’t sure. Curiosity piqued her interest. She had to find out if he was unattached and why she had never heard from him. At the time, Stash had told her Buddy wanted to start life with a clean slate, but Emmy needed convincing. She wanted to hear it from the wide receiver’s own mouth. Stash escorted her to their seats. It was like being on the field. Excitement filled her veins at being able to watch Buddy play again. Emmy had cheered the loudest for him at Kensington State. This time, it was big leagues, pro, not college. Everything was on the line, and in her gut, she knew he’d be amazing. The one thing Buddy could do was carry a football. Wonder if he even knows I’m here. A voice caught her attention. “Emmy!” Then, “Emerald!” No, it can’t be. She shook her head once. When she raised her gaze, she noticed a player running toward the stands. Son of a b***h. It’s Buddy. Despite her wishes, her eyes filled. Oh my God. It’s really you. Her hand trembled as she fished in her bag for a tissue. Stash whipped out his handkerchief. “Don’t get all sentimental. That douchebag is still an asshole.” Stash’s harsh words brought her back to reality. But before she could harden her heart, Buddy was taking her hand in both of his, his gaze connecting with hers. “Wait. After the game. Please. I need to see you. Talk to you.” She nodded, tears blurring her vision. Buddy lifted her hand to his lips before returning to the bench. Stash made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Is this jerk gonna mess up your career?” “I can see him if I want,” she said, dabbing her cheek. “Don’t think I’m gonna hang around, while you f**k your brains out with that idiot.” “Watch your mouth. We’re in public.” “Don’t want to tarnish the golden image of ‘Emerald’?” He made a face. “That’s right. That image pays you plenty. Don’t forget it,” she whispered. He folded his arms across his chest and clamped his lips together. The whistle blew, signaling the Kings to kick off to the Nevada Gamblers. “Watch the game. You might learn something,” Emmy hissed at him. * * * * On the bench, Buddy couldn’t keep his attention on the game. He watched Emmy instead. Tony Harrison, back-up quarterback, whispered, “Emerald. s**t, she’s hot.” Buddy glared at him. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t bang her.” Buddy growled. “Shut the f**k up, asshole.” Tony raised his palms. “Okay, okay. Like you saw her first?” “You don’t know how close to the truth you are.” Buddy’s chest tightened. He could hardly breathe. His heart pumped so fast he could hear it. His palms sweated, like a twelve year old at his first dance. A thousand images of them together during college flashed through his mind like a music video. She’s here. He narrowed his eyes as he spied Stash put his arm around Emmy, his hand on her knee, and whisper in her ear, making her smile. Two peas in a pod. I never liked that piece of s**t. What he feared most, that her relationship with Stash had morphed into something s****l, obviously had happened. Every time the guy touched her, Buddy’s gut clenched. Tony nudged Buddy. “Go on. Our ball.” Buddy’s attention snapped back to the action. Although the Gamblers were good, the Kings were better. The Gamblers were setting up to punt. He ran out onto the field. His teammate, Caleb Turner, stopped the ball in the end zone and took a knee. Buddy was grateful it hadn’t come to him. “Get your head back in the game, Buddy,” Griff said in the huddle. “It’s coming to you.” Buddy took his position, forcing himself into the zone, mentally, where nothing existed but the play. He noted the big linebackers for the Nevada team and trained his gaze on the quarterback as the ball was snapped. The wide receiver took off. One defender quickly became two, heading for Buddy, who sped ahead just far enough to catch the ball rifled at him by Griff. One big, defensive paw grabbed at him, pulling on his jersey, but Buddy twisted away. Ramping his leg muscles into overdrive, he gained twenty yards before a lunging Gambler linebacker nabbed his ankle and took him down. He hit the ground hard, but rolled into it, so there was no damage. Bullhorn Brodsky offered him a hand. Buddy sprang up, full of energy, and trotted to the huddle. His successful run pulled his mind back into football, and he forgot Emmy was there. Buddy got two more punt receptions for gains of ten and fifteen yards each. He snatched three passes out of the air to run one for a touchdown and the other two for thirteen and twenty-five yard gains. Though he got banged up some, he didn’t feel the bruises. The wide receiver was pumped, running on adrenaline and determination.