Second and Short Read online

  “Slight sprain and a deep bruise. Really it’s not that bad.”

  “Then how are you here for two weeks?”

  Dalton’s face reddened. “You don’t watch football, do you?”

  “The Mist played at the same time as the Grizzlies Sunday.”

  “And you’re a Green Bay fan.” He shook his head a few times.

  “More like the TV stations are.”

  “I never thought about distribution,” Dalton said with a sigh. “No recap for you either?”

  “I’m usually passed out by then.” Now Willeen was getting curious. What had Dalton done? “If I were to Google you right now what would I find?”

  “Uncontrollable animal.” He turned toward the lake. “At least that’s the last headline I saw.”

  “Guess that’s what you meant earlier about being a Grizzly in more than one way.”

  “What can I say? I’m a brute and a monster.” There was pain in his voice as it trailed off. “You’re probably better off staying away.”

  “I put my axe down, most people aren’t that lucky.”

  “Awe, you wouldn’t have swung.” Dalton stepped toward her and the heat he described radiated from his body to hers.

  She took in his size fully. Warmth, protection and the scent of man engulfed her and every instinct told her in his arms she wouldn’t fear a thing ever again. Tilting her neck up she held her breath and for the first time in years, she wanted to taste every inch of a man with more inches than any she’d ever seen before.

  The Day Before

  “How did you get to be the Blood Thirsty Bear of the Gridiron?” Danika Albright asked as he sat in her office with a damn mop on his lap. Okay, so it was a Maltese puppy but all it needed was a stick on its back and you could clean for hours. Warm and soft, the malleable pup she and Rome had gotten for Rome’s son DeMonte had attached itself to him. A damn purse dog had become a buddy to Dalton and he had to admit he could find himself when it cuddled up on his lap.

  “Rome doesn’t know about Floppy and me, does he?”

  “He tends to ignore the fact I have this office. You’re the only one I get to see on Tuesdays.”

  “You don’t see anyone else from the team?” Dalton reasoned. “Since Tuesday is our only day off.”

  “Off?” Danika laughed. “Rome spends half the day at grocery store openings and cancer wards.”

  “Football isn’t just three hours on a field.”

  “I know.” Danika clicked her pen and let out a sigh. “At least I still have Tuesday nights off for my most important client.” Her bright blue eyes gleamed in the low light of the third-floor office in Rome’s townhouse. Tightening her fingers around the edges of her notebook, a flash flew off her engagement ring from Rome. Part of him worried she would share their meetings since she walked a line from stylist, her former job, and life coach. “Enough about me. Tell me again how did it start?”

  “On Sunday?”

  “No, your reputation. You say you lost yourself. Let’s see where it started.”

  Shifting in the wingback chair, Floppy let out a snuff in annoyance before rooting his nose into the side of the chair. Dalton’s hand covered the puppy and probably weighed three times more. He kept his hand hovering over as he stroked the gray hair. No reason to crush the poor thing. “My first preseason game I was giving the crowd high fives. Some guy grabbed my jersey and yanked so hard I was face to face with him.”

  Dalton adjusted again in his seat and closed his eyes. Picking up floppy, he cradled the small dog and stroked it with a gentleness he rarely got to use. Memories of a split second that became the foundation of who and what he was played out like a film students experimental piece in his mind.

  “And,” Danika prodded.

  “And he head butted me over and over. Three, four, five times.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Not when I have a helmet on, it just jarred and shocked me.” Dalton brought Floppy back to his lap and the puppy rolled on its back for belly attention. Happily obliging, he used the animal as an anchor while his head swum from memories. “Who the hell grabs a mutant and starts shit? By the time I recovered enough to capture his arms and stop him, the cameras were on me. All they saw was my hands on him and blood streaming down his face.”

  “But it wasn’t you that bloodied him.”

  “No, it wasn’t, but the news channels ran with the story to the point my agent demanded I keep it up. Offensive linemen are invisible and quiet in many ways. I had become a brand.”

  “And a brand can make money.” Danika nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Exactly, how many offensive linemen have jerseys for sale besides me? I was supposed to howl, punch and become a monster.”

  “You lost yourself on the field.”

  “I lost myself everywhere.” Dalton shook his head as tears pinpricked his eyes. “No, it was taken from me by some fucktard fan. All I am now is a brand, not a human.”

  “You never seemed brutish to me.”

  “We’re one on one usually. And even the most disgusting of men can clean up in high-end stores.”

  “What would it hurt if you weren’t a brute?”

  “I don’t think coach would like me taking it down.”

  “You sure about that?” she replied with a raised eyebrow.

  “Penalties are two sided. Trust me a little extra love tap can make a guy second guess his life choices.”

  The grin on his face wasn’t matched by Danika. “Dalton, offensive linemen have a reputation.”

  “Reputation or stereotype?”

  “There’s something natural inside an offensive lineman others don’t have. Defensive linemen are different. O-line is built on protection. If you want to stay the brute, move to defense. Be the aggressor, but if that’s what you really wanted you wouldn’t be torn up inside.”

  Dalton took in her words. At one point Danika had been a stylist whose approval he wanted. Never a sexual thing with her, she was beautiful, but a little too polished for him. Even now her auburn hair was perfectly quaffed and her makeup seemed professionally done. Advice from her was gold and when she made the switch from stylist to life coach he didn’t miss a payment. What she said made sense, his agent not so much.

  “How free are you?” Dalton asked as Willeen packed up her truck. Strange how he used to like hiking in the mountains when he was younger, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had been alone. His life coach said he should step back and breathe, but how could he do that with the dark-haired beauty in front of him?

  “In what way?”

  “Would you be willing to give me a tour?”

  “Of the cabin?” Willeen’s eyebrow rose as she hitched her thumb toward the cabin. “Because I’m pretty sure I could do that in about a minute.”

  “The lake, town, you know I’d hate to go where I wasn’t wanted.”

  “Have you ever been somewhere where you weren’t wanted? You’re a hero.”

  “Hero or villain.” With a shrug, he continued. “Depends on the crowd.”

  “Alright, I’ll give you that.” Willeen rocked back on her heels and Dalton wasn’t sure why her presence made him comfortable, but he wanted to go back to who he had been. That was part of the reason he was sent to God’s country. Take Bucky up on his offer, you need the space and silence to remember who you are. Danika’s words sent red flags of fear because he was successful at being an asshole. People would see him as a fake, a character, an action figure. Who could accept a person after he had lied to them for so long?

  Willeen could stare at Dalton’s arms for the next two weeks. Thick, with sinewy muscles straining against his shirt to the point Willeen wondered if any shirt could hold him. Then again, she may just be wanting to explore the great expanse of his chest. Rarely could she find a man large enough to dwarf her and not be out of shape. Dalton doesn’t have a six-pack, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t firm and muscular.

  With a quick lick and bite to her upper lip sh
e settled her hormones enough to figure out a plan. “Tour guide huh? Guess I need a safari hat.”

  “Seems more like one of those places with a fisherman’s hat.” Dalton smiled side wide. “You know, the ones with all the fly fishing lures.”

  “That must be your Colorado showing,” she said. “You guys do that fly-fishing stuff there, huh?”

  “What do you do on this lake?” he asked and she stuffed her hands in the pocket of her windbreaker.

  She walked toward the lake behind the cabin. “You can dock fish. Maybe I could bring a boat over and pick you up one day if you just need to be alone in the middle of the lake.”

  The dock creaked and rocked slightly side to side as they stepped on it. Willeen was used to the motion and kept walking toward the end, which T’d and Bucky had a built-in bench on the horizontal end. Turning around, she noticed Dalton standing stark still with his hands out to the side and his knees bent.

  “I wouldn’t dive from there,” she cautioned. “Might want to come out a little to avoid a head injury.”

  “I don’t think there’s much left to damage.”

  Willeen took a few steps toward Dalton. “Are you afraid of the water?”

  “Not sure, I haven’t really looked far enough ahead to see if I could drink it all.”

  “Drink it all? As in if you fell in the lake.” Willeen let out a laugh at the mere thought of all the fish flapping around on an empty lake bed with Dalton in the middle.

  “I know it’s stupid, and I walk in the rivers all the time in Colorado, but there’s something about a lake.” He looked over the edge of the dock. “This one is clear.”

  “Yep, maybe not so much in the middle where it is deeper, but still you should be able to see the bottom for most of the lake.”

  Dalton took a few tenuous steps until he made his way to her. She placed her hands on either side of him as if she could somehow catch him if he fell. His eyes slid to the bench on the end of the dock. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Well, this is where you fish,” she explained and sat down on the bench with her hands pressed together and between her knees held tight. “You can try from the shore, but if you look over the edge you see the little buggers going crazy down here. I usually come by once a week and drop some treats. It keeps them around the docks.”

  “Is this lake stocked?”

  Willeen held her index finger and thumb about a half inch apart. “A smidge. Owners like Bucky keep the population up by not vacationing and fishing.”

  Dalton peered over the edge of the dock and gave her a half-hearted smile. “I don’t suppose Bucky actually leaves his gear?”

  “He might, if not I’m sure I could find some.”

  “You live close?”

  “Depends on the season.” Willeen looked across the lake and pointed. Her dock was the only visible part of the cabin where she lived. “In the winter, it’s a straight shot over here.”

  Dalton put his hand over his eyes to shield from the sun. “You have a boat?”

  “My boss does, he docks it at my cabin.”

  “Any chance we could go out on it?”

  “You’re on vacation, I’m not Dalton, I can call you that, right?”

  “I’m afraid to hear what else you would call me.”

  Tucking away a smile, Willeen stood up and walked to the edge of the dock with the tip of her shoes right on the steel frame. Going up on the balls of her feet, she wished it was warm enough she could curl her toes to balance on them. It was her favorite thing to do ever since she was little. There was a reason gymnasts were so tiny. Controlling six feet of a person is difficult, but she could on a swaying dock to boot. It was a freeing activity that centered her, brought her back when she felt herself going down the wrong path. Like with Dalton, she had a dozen other projects she needed to get to, instead she was sitting on a bench praying he would sit next to her. She wanted the heat of his body to envelope her. He talks about himself as if he were a brute. Yet she felt safe standing alone on the placid lake with one of the few men she’d met who could actually manhandle her. Turning to look over her shoulder she wanted to take him in, instead their eyes met. He’d been staring at her without shame. The edges of his eyes crinkled when he gave her a small smile setting her off balance.

  She felt herself start to go and his arm reached and grasped hers. Her body jerked to a stop before stumbling back on the dock with stuttered steps. Crashing against him, Willeen dropped her head against his chest. The warmth mixed with the crisp scent of his cologne caused her to inhale deeply. Oh, this was bad.

  “You just lost three cool points on that one.”

  “It could have been ten,” she replied and tore herself away from his firm body. “That lake is already cooling off.”

  “Depending on the splash you might have earned points.”

  “If it was deeper here I could have pulled off a three and a half twist in the pike position.”

  “Let me guess, you’re an Olympics junky?”

  “I still have a chance to make it,” she teased. “There were some pretty mature archers.”

  “Uh-huh.” The two of them began to walk back up toward the cabin.

  Willeen’s face burned still from the embarrassing loss of balance. She couldn’t remember the last time she couldn’t stand on the edge and spin, twirl or even dance without so much as a form break. Maybe Dalton was right, she had watched a few too many hours of Olympic coverage. Walking next to Dalton had her hands trembling as she stuffed them into her jean pockets.

  “Um, would you be okay with a hand drawn map to the store?” she asked. “I have a long list of things to do and I know Bucky sold me as a full-service concierge, but I’m more of the person who checks in once a day to make sure you’re not eaten by bears.” The excuses were dropping from her mouth like she was a teenage girl stumbling to find her footing around the starting quarterback.

  “I think I could manage with the meals I packed.” He extended his hand and she shook it. The monster still hadn’t surfaced. Nope, large hand that might as well be one of those paraffin wax dips from the spa Angie Bailey started for the summer tourists. Lost Lake was a mix of the traditionalist and the city hipsters that want to commune with nature. Willeen wasn’t sure which one Dalton was at this moment, but she knew whatever he turned out to be, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

  Chapter Two

  It took less than two minutes from the time Willie’s truck spit up gravel off the driveway for the silence to wash over Dalton. Go to the lake, they said, it’ll be fun, they said. Only Dalton had become a full-fledged city boy. Shucking off his rural roots as if they were a skin of shame. No longer did he know how to take a beat and be with himself. While he busied himself with loading the fridge, he flipped to his music and put his headphones on. Even if he would have asked Tomlinson or Yeltsvinick to come along, he still would have the second week to be alone. And how could he have found himself with those two jackholes around.

  “Well congratulations, you burned fifteen minutes.” Even if he savored every last morsel from his prepackaged meal, the best he could do was hit the half hour mark. Funny, half the team was itching to use Bucky’s cabin and he was ready to head back for the city. What would be back in Chicago? Hang out at some bar while the rookies fetched him a woman to fuck in a bathroom while music vibrated the walls? Yet another thing that had brought him about ten minutes, on a good night, of pleasure.

  Scanning his phone, he hit Google and looked up the Dry Dock. He should have taken a hand drawn map from Willie. It would have been better than his attempts to find a signal. At least with roaming he could get a slight map. It was only a mile or so from where his truck broke down. Walking might be a good idea. If he gets lost in a bottle, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about a DWI.

  Time, fresh air and a bit of exercise had his head spinning with the voice of his father. It had been years since he’d really spoke to him. Sure he saw him from time to time, but there were no longer the tal
ks about being a man or life in general. The mournful eyes his father had as he stood facing the glowing image of Dalton with blood dripping down his forehead and cheeks while a snarl curled his upper lip will never disappear from Dalton’s mind. In that moment, he’d lost his father’s respect.

  “It’s just an ad,” Dalton reasoned. “It’s not like that’s real blood.”

  “Characters existed in the league when I was in it too.” His father turned and the blue eyes Dalton inherited looked back at him. “Can’t remember them outside of on the sidelines with the cheerleaders.”

  Dalton had always trusted his father, but in this he saw his father’s distance in the subject. When was the last time Gilbert Gresham laced up his cleats and put his hand in the dirt on a professional field? Social media made it impossible to not create a brand for yourself if you wanted to succeed. Hell, Dalton was set to earn close to a half million in jersey sales alone over the next few years. People would buy number seventy-seven with fake blood dripping down the numbers. So what if he was a character, it wasn’t who he was deep down. His father had to know that, didn’t he?

  The Dry Dock took Dalton a minute to find. It was little more than a cut out door in a brown building. A diamond shaped window smaller than Dalton’s hand was cut near the top of the door. On either side of the brown painted brick was a Laundromat and an abandoned office from what was printed on the rental sign. Dalton passed the building at first, but he had looked back because the three businesses were the only break in the woods. Thankfully he looked up to see a sign near the top of the building from a now defunct beer company with the bar name at the bottom. The bear on the sign had a beer in one hand and smile on his face. A backwoods welcome if he ever saw one.

  Dalton stood in the doorway for a tick to get his bearings before entering fully. No bouncer, VIP or bottle service girl would be helping him know where to go. In fact, in one of the booths was a family eating burger baskets. Dalton couldn’t help wondering why Willie didn’t see this place as welcoming. There were only about a dozen people scattered around a few tables and along the bar itself. The wall behind the bartender had a decent selection of liquor, nothing too exotic, but there was an almost full bottle of Grey Goose. Tonight might not be the night to drop a grand on that. Then again, the Dry Dock didn’t feel like the type of place to up charge the liquor like that.