Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (22 page)

Estie kissed him full on the mouth while her
hand slid down his flat stomach. She wrapped her fingers around his
penis and stroked up and down. Brett groaned and took the kiss
deeper, wanting to absorb her into his skin, into his soul, into
every cell in his body.

The ring of his cell phone jarred him back
to the present. Brett grabbed it off the nightstand to silence it,
then noticed Harris’s name.

“Oh, crap, it’s your brother. I was supposed
to meet him at the Jacks’ facility at 6:30.” He checked the time.
It was 7:30 a.m., and he was somewhat shocked that Tyler waited
that long to call. Maybe he’d dealt with his own version of morning
wood.

Brett held the phone up to mouth and shot
Estie a look that said be quiet. She smiled wickedly at him, and he
knew he was in deep shit.

“Hey,” he said into the phone as casually as
he could manage with a woman licking her way down his body.

“Where the fuck are you? You’re late.”

“Sure am. I’m betting you were late, too,
since it’s an hour after we’d agreed to meet.”

“Yeah, but I’m here, and you aren’t.”

Brett suppressed a groan as Estie took his
dick in her mouth.

“You have a woman there, don’t you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m not a dumbshit. You’re distracted
again, just like you’ve been the last several days. You fucking
attitude isn’t going to win a championship. Get your lazy ass out
of bed. You have fifteen minutes to get here, and you’d better
bring coffee and donuts.” Harris cut off the call.

Brett laid the phone down and pressed his
head against the pillow while Estie worked her magic on him. She
lifted her head and looked at him. “What did my brother say?”

“To get my ass there in fifteen
minutes.”

Estie shrugged. “Fuck him.”

“Yeah, no shit. Where were we?”

Estie lowered her head and went back to
work, while Brett forgot all about an impatient Harris ready to rip
him a new one.

Chapter 12

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Brett pushed the big bodies off him with the
craziness of a wild man. He was sick and tired of being chased out
of the pocket and slammed to the ground. He swore he’d spent more
time buried under bodies in the first half of the game than he did
standing in the pocket and throwing the ball.

Shooting to his feet, he stalked to the
huddle on third and twenty-five. His first fucking playoff game as
a starter, and they were getting their asses handed to them on a
platinum platter. The score was twenty-one to seven with the
Packers leading at 12:27 in the third quarter. Plenty of time to
pull this game out of the dumpster if Brett rallied the troops and
kicked some Packer ass. There was no fucking way his first playoff
game was going to be his last.

The boys in the huddle regarded him warily,
sensing he was pissed. Well, hell yeah, he was. He was damn tired
of the line playing like a bunch of pussies and his receivers
dropping every perfect ball he threw their way.

Only he didn’t verbally dress them down.
Instead, Brett looked each guy in the eyes, letting them see his
complete buy-in. He telegraphed his determination to them. At first
they just stared back. Then, one by one, their expressions changed
to ones of like determination. It hit him hard that he had the
power as the team leader to kindle the fire of like minds and like
goals.

They were going places. These were his guys.
This
was
his team. Not Harris’s, not Zach’s, but his, and
he’d show the world that Brett Gunnels could compete with the best
despite all his physical minuses.

Football at this level was mostly mental.
He’d heard that a million times. The best quarterbacks had the “It”
factor, that indefinable thing which made them rise above all
adversity. It wasn’t the best arm or the fastest feet or the
ability to read the defense, it was the drive inside a guy who
never gave up and never stopped believing.

With a satisfied nod that he had his
teammates mentally slapped out of their slump, Brett barked out the
play, a slant pass to Bruiser. Bruiser nodded, his square jaw set
as if he’d do this or die.

They lined up, Brett in shotgun. A split
second later, he flipped the ball to Bruiser and his buddy powered
through several Packers, pushing them out of his way, dragging a
few with him before they dropped off, stiff-arming another for a
twenty-seven-yard gain.

First and ten. They were on their way.

Brett threw a few more short passes for
first downs. Then he hit Derek on a thirty-yard pass play for an
easy walk into the end zone.

And the rest of the game went the Jacks’
way. Final score: twenty-eight to twenty-one, Jacks. And just like
that Brett won his first playoff game. The Jacks were in the NFC
championship game. And he was the hero.

Just like that.

Almost too easy. Scary easy. It should be
harder to make it one game away from a Super Bowl.

One fucking game.

An hour later, Brett sat alone in the locker
room and stared at the Number Ten jersey hanging in his locker.
Buzz, the equipment guy, came through and picked up towels then he
left Brett to his thoughts. The room was eerily quiet compared with
the earlier celebratory noise. He’d promised the guys he’d make an
appearance at the Bull Dog Pub afterward. He wasn’t really in the
mood. He’d rather go home to his furry kids.

And Estie.

On cue his cell played that stupid happy
tune it played when a text message came in. He grabbed it from his
locker, glanced at it, and a slow smile spread across his face.

The entire team is here waiting for you.
Where are you? E

She was at the pub, waiting for him. Brett
shot to his feet, shrugged into his sport coat and hurried out the
door. Ten minutes later he strode into the private room at the pub
as if he owned the place, amid backslapping and bear hugs. Brett
couldn’t stop smiling. Then he saw her, and he smiled all the
more.

She sat at a pub table with Lavender,
Kelsie, and an elegant, tall black woman he couldn’t recall ever
meeting. Their eyes met, and Brett nodded briefly. They weren’t
exactly out of the closet regarding their affair, and Brett decided
he’d leave it to her to decide if and when she’d reveal that
truth.

Brett took his time working his way to
Estie’s high-top table, even as he felt her eyes on him as he made
his way across the room. Finally, after what seemed like a
torturous lifetime, he stood beside the table. Lavender and Kelsie
left to join their men and only Estie and her friend remained.

“Hey.” He hitched his hip on the barstool,
ignoring the shooting pain in his thigh, the throbbing at his
temples, and the bruised ribs—such was the life of an NFL
quarterback.

“Hey, you.” Estie smiled at him. She looked
at her friend. “Brett, this is my dear friend, Sylvia.”

“Nice to meet you, Sylvia.” Brett was struck
by the fact that he didn’t know anything about Sylvia. Estie had
never mentioned her. Maybe she was a friend of Richard’s, and he’d
best mind his manners and keep his hands to himself—not that he’d
dare touch Estie with hawk-eyed Harris burning a hole in his
back.

“Sylvia is a veterinarian and a good
one.”

The exotic woman nodded. “In fact, I’ve been
meaning to talk to you. Estie mentioned you’d be the perfect man to
foster an animal for a soldier who’s been deployed.”

“Oh, she did?” Brett glanced at Estie, who
cringed.

Sylvia smirked, not minding in the least
that she’d put Estie in a tough spot. “Yes, Humphrey needs a foster
home until his doggie daddy comes home from the Middle East.”

“What kind of dog is Humphrey?”

“A Great Dane. You’ll love him. He’s mellow
and sweet.”

Brett frowned, not looking convinced. “I
don’t know; I’m gone a lot.”

“Estie will babysit of course. Don’t say no
until you meet him.”

Brett opened his mouth to protest but Harris
interrupted. He gave Sylvia a hug then turned his laser-sharp gaze
on Brett and Estie. Freddie flanked Estie’s other side, watching
them with the same shrewd gaze as Tyler. Brett tried his damnedest
not to squirm. Instead, he did the safe, cowardly thing, tipped an
imaginary hat to the ladies, and hurried off to get a brew. Once he
grabbed the beer, he joined several of the single guys for good
debate on whether or not the offensive line coach had bad hair or a
bad toupee. As if he gave a shit.

They were going to the championship, and the
love of his life would be in bed with him tonight. He’d take it,
even if it only lasted a short while. After all, it wasn’t the
destination, it was the journey, and he’d enjoy the hell out of it
while he could.

Brett glanced over his shoulder and his gaze
clashed with Harris. The guy’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. Oh, fucking hell. The guy suspected something.
Brett grinned at him, hoping to defuse a possible bomb. Harris
scowled back.

Their secret love affair was coming close to
being discovered. Sooner rather than later. Brett had a sixth sense
about things like this.

He could almost smell his fate in the air
and feel the sense of foreboding as if it were a living entity, an
entity he’d hold off for as long as he could.

* * * * *

Estie glanced in her rearview mirror and
smiled. Brett followed at a safe distance in his SUV as they headed
home in separate cars.

Despite how ecstatic Brett had been about
the win, something had been off all night with him. She’d be damned
if she knew what.

Estie got out of her car and waited for him
on the front porch.

He walked up the steps and stood beside her,
his expression unreadable in the porch light. “Sit for a while on
the porch with me.”

“It’s freezing out here.” She hesitated, but
something in his eyes changed her mind. She hustled inside to get a
blanket and let the dogs out. Less than a minute later, they sat
next to each other on the small loveseat. Stars twinkled in the
night sky and a sliver of a moon glowed in the distance. Estie
cuddled next to Brett and pulled the blanket tight around her to
keep out the crisp winter air.

Brett took her hand and held it tightly, as
he stared straight ahead. She couldn’t help admiring his strong jaw
and rugged features.

He swallowed and turned slightly to meet her
gaze. “Your brother knows about us.”

“Did you tell him?” Estie cleared her
throat, but nothing cleared the dread sliding through her. Tyler
could be a ruthless asshole, and Freddie a formidable bitch. If
Tyler knew, Freddie would know, and all hell would break lose.

“No, I didn’t need to. He figured it out,
just like he observes defenses and figures them out.”

“Did he confront you?”

“No, he hasn’t said a word. Yet.” Brett
stared into her eyes with that special kind of intensity she both
admired and envied. “We need to tell your family about us.”

“Not yet.” Estie squeezed his hand,
marveling at his long, strong fingers that fully engulfed her
smaller hand.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m still sorting out what all this
means in my own mind. You were right. I’ve decided to go to vet
school. I have to pick up the necessary pre-vet requirements before
I can even apply, and I need to figure out how to do all this.
“

“In other words, make detailed plans.” He
had to smile.

“Touché.” She’d made lists all day, worked
on a detailed plan, and no matter how she worked it, she didn’t see
where Brett fit in the next several years. “Tyler and Freddie won’t
like it. The minute they find out they’ll attempt to bully me into
staying and handling Ty’s finances.”

“Stand up to them. Tell them this is what
you want. What you have to do.”

Estie nodded. “It’ll be a battle. They’ll
try to steamroll me.” Especially since she’d never mentioned her
secret desire to be a veterinarian.

“I’m sure it will, but they love you.”

“I need to be who I want to be. I never
realized I wasn’t until we talked. This is the first step.”

“What about us?” His expression was mixture
of tentative and hopeful.

She hated to dash his hopes, but she
couldn’t lie to him. “I don’t know, Brett. I don’t know where you
fit. I’m looking at a couple years of pre-vet and several more of
vet school. I want to do the pre-vet at the same college that
houses the vet school so I don’t have to hassle with transfer
credits.”

His face fell. “I’ll be with another team
next year. I could make sure the team I choose has a vet school
within commuting distance.”

Estie would love that, but she couldn’t
allow herself to be beholden to a man she felt as if she knew
better than herself, but in reality barely knew at all. A man with
dark secrets—like Richard, and possibly worse in some ways. She’d
glimpsed what hid behind that sadness, and the power of his pain
scared the crap out of her. She couldn’t control it or fix it.

Besides, Brett had some football games to
win before he legitimized himself as an official starting
quarterback.

“Let’s get through this season.” Estie
kissed his cheek. “Remember, one game at a time. Then we’ll figure
out what our future holds.”

A muscle tightened in Brett’s jaw, but he
nodded. “Okay, I can live with that, as long as I have a chance,
and I have a better chance now than I did yesterday. I do love you,
Estie.”

She wished he’d quit saying that. It heaped
even more guilt on her, guilt neither of them needed, considering
everything else going on in their lives. “I know you do. I think I
love you, too, but I have to be sure this time.” What the hell did
she know about love?

“I understand.” He didn’t look like he
understood one damn bit, not the way his pale blue eyes turned just
a slight bit frosty or the way he pursed his lips together in a
grim line.