The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (59 page)

"Carlo Rivera and Shaun Marise invited me to join them in their suite.  Sometimes players will get together and rent a suite for their families for the entire season.  We have suite number eighteen, which is just to the left of the fifty-yard line.  You'll love it."  He looks down at me and I can see the sparkle in his big blue eyes.  He's so easy to read.  He wears his emotions across his entire face, and right now, I can see the joy etched in his dimples and hope reflected in his smile.

We spend the next hour and a half exploring the rest of the stadium.  I get to see the locker room where all the players’ equipment is kept.  It looks more like a massive walk-in closet than the metallic locker room with chain-link cages for equipment storage that I pictured from the movies.  It's stellar.  We tour the team's private gym where they work out, and he shows me the offices and meeting rooms where they gather to watch films and discuss strategy.  I can only imagine what it's like when these places are fully staffed and bustling with the energy of the entire team and coaches.  No wonder Evan's been so preoccupied.

We finish our tour where we started, back out on the field.  Evan takes me to the end zone which has the team name, Sentinels, proudly painted beneath the goal post.  Standing there, in the very place where history is made week after week, is both exciting and exhilarating.  Evan looks at me and I can just imagine him in his sexy uniform, all sweaty and dirty, on this very field making the play that wins the game.  I can hear the crowds chanting his name and I can picture fans wearing replicas of his uniform filling the stadium.  The man that ignites hopes and dreams in the minds of so many men and women is standing here with me, and I'm feeling a sudden need to take him right here and right now.

"Juliette, you can't just look at me like that," Evan pleads.

I can feel my heart racing and my pulse quickening.  "Like what?" I ask.

"Like you're ready to rip my clothes off."

"Very perceptive," I acknowledge.  “It’s you own fault, really.  I can’t help it if you’re so extremely fuckable.  Seeing you here, in this place, has my imagination on overdrive.”

"Baby, there are a thousand fantasies I'd love to act out with you right here and right now, but the cameras on this field are always rolling and this is one performance I'd rather not broadcast to the world."  He grabs me, lifts me off my feet, and I wrap my arms around his neck.  "But there's no law against making out in the end zone."  He kisses me deeply, and then breaks our bond momentarily to add a final thought.  “Lucky for you, I never felt the urge to kiss anyone in the end zone before.”

J
ust a short drive south, and we enter the city limits of Atlantic City.  This time, Evan is in charge of our destination.  He parks at Caesar's Palace and we take the elevator to the main floor.  After a brisk walk right through the casino, Evan escorts me to the boardwalk.  It's a beautiful spring day and it feels glorious to walk the boardwalk.  We hold hands and stroll along, carefree, enjoying the sights and smells of the ocean.

"Oh my God, Evan, look.  It's an old-fashioned pushcart.  I can't believe they still have those things.  My grandparents took me down here once when I was in elementary school and we took a ride on one of those carts.  I thought they would be long gone by now."  We watch as a young man pushes a cart down the boardwalk with an older couple sitting inside the wicker cart.  They are holding hands and look so happy and content.  I glance down at our hands with fingers laced together and wonder if we could make it to our golden years together, still feeling the same way we do today.

"Wanna go for a ride, Running Girl?  I might have to pay the guy a little extra for his effort, but it would be completely worth it.  What do you say, baby?"  Evan is waiting for my reply.

"That's sweet, but I'd really rather walk," I explain.  "Maybe next time."

As we walk along the boardwalk, I ask Evan about how preseason is going.  He hasn't been very talkative the past few weeks, and I intend to take full advantage of the opportunity to find out what's got him so preoccupied lately.

Evan explains to me how he's not the only back-up quarterback.  He's the second-string, but there are two others after him.  I had no idea there were as many as four quarterbacks on some teams.

"But Evan, I'm pretty sure the starting quarterback plays most of the games.  The back-up only plays from time to time, right?"  He nods.  "When do the third and fourth string quarterbacks get to play?" I question.

"Hardly ever.  They can go years without seeing any real game time at all.  A lot of teams don't even have a fourth string quarterback.  I think the only reason we do is because of Matt Ortiz' age.  He's almost forty now, and a serious injury could end his career."  He stops talking for a moment, and I can tell he's upset about something.  His hand moves up into his hair in a gesture that tells me he's either unhappy or nervous.

"Juliette, the other two back-up quarterbacks are getting a lot of playing time with the team right now.  They're running the plays and putting the new guys through the paces.  Neither one of them are newly signed.  They've been with the team for a couple of years each, so they know the players, the coaches, and most of the plays.  I'm at such a disadvantage here."  He's clearly worried about his position and ranking on the team.

He takes a deep breath, looks away from me, and continues.  "It's all I ever wanted, you know – to play here in Jersey.  Having my family with me at my home games.  Sometimes lately I've been wondering if my luck has finally run out."

"Evan Thomas McGuire, stop right there and look at me."  He stops walking and looks directly at me, shocked by the tone of my voice.  "Now, you listen, and listen good.  It's not luck that got you here.  It was skill, determination, and grit.  You earned a spot on that team.  They're not idiots.  They know you're the real deal.  Now that you're cleared to work out and lift weights, you're going to blow them away.  You'll see."

He doesn't respond, he simply shrugs his shoulders and continues moving forward.  "There's more, isn't there?  There's something you haven't told me.  I can read you like a book, bossy man.  Spill."

"Yeah, you're right, there's something I haven't told anyone.  I haven't been able to say it out loud.”  He stops and talks to me in hushed tones so no one but me can hear.  “But the truth is, I'm afraid I won't be able to throw like I did before I got hurt.  I haven't touched a football in nearly two months.  Suppose I'm just average ... or worse?"  He looks completely despondent.  He starts walking again, and I hurry to catch up with him. 

"You've been doing everything the trainers tell you to do, right?"

"Yes."

"You trust them to do their job?  They're good at what they do?"

"They're the best."

"Then you have to have faith.  You'll see.  I can feel it.  You're going to be on that field tearing it up.  Can I say that?  Tearing it up?"

"You can say that," he chuckles.  "Even better would be to say that I'm going to 'put up big numbers'," he tells me.  "That means that I'm going to have a lot of passing yards and a high scoring game," he explains.

"Okay, then.  You're going to put up some really big numbers when you get out there on the gridiron and tear up the field."  I use every football-related lexicon I can think of in one motivational statement.

"Juliette, you're right.  My luck hasn't run out.  I still have you, which makes me the luckiest man alive."  He puts an arm around my waist and pulls me in close to him as we continue our stroll down the boardwalk.  I slip one hand into the back pocket of his jeans as we walk and talk some more.  Thankfully, Evan's mood has lifted and I'm once again joined by the joyful man that I love and adore.

We make it as far as the Steel Pier when Evan's stomach growls so loudly, I swear everyone around us could hear it.  "I guess you heard that?" he asks.

"Evan, even that sweet old lady over there with the hearing aid could hear that. I guess it's time for us to eat dinner."  When Evan's training, he takes in thousands of calories a day.  We haven't eaten in a while, and my man needs his nutrition.  "What do you have in mind?" I ask.

"Let's head back to Caesar's.  There's a nice casual sushi bar I'd love to try.  You up for Japanese tonight, baby?" Evan asks as we turn around and make our way back to the casino.  I love sushi, so he gets no arguments from me. 

We make it back to the casino in record time.

After dinner, we decide to do some window-shopping at the Pier Shops at Caesars.  We stop in one of my favorite stores, Lush, where I pick out a few bath bombs and Evan actually lets me pay for it myself.  That is a rare occasion, happening about as often as a blue moon.

When we approach a Victoria's Secret store, Evan insists that I allow him to pick out a few items.  When I try to argue that I really don't want him spending money on me for things I don't need, he argues that the things he's picking out aren't for me, they're for him and therefore, I have no say in the matter. 

"But Evan, none of those are in your size," I taunt him while he's at the counter paying for the items.  The cashier looks at Evan a little cautiously, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head at the thought.

"Excuse me?" he looks at me quizzically.  "Oh, you're a real comedian, aren't you?" he teases.

When we leave the store, Evan looks at me sternly.  "You're going to pay for that little remark young lady."

"I could think of a few ways you could let me make it up to you when we get home, chief," I tell him in my sweetest voice.

"Oh, you'll make it up to me later, that's for sure.  But for now, you're going to let me buy something just for you and that smart mouth of yours.  We're going into the next store I spot and you're not going to argue with me, got it?" he warns.

"But Evan, I don’t ... " I begin to protest, but he stops me with a kiss.

"No arguments.  Ready?  I've already spotted our next stop.  Let's go, hop to it!" he commands.

He drags me into a jewelry store.  Not just any jewelry store, Tiffany & Co., of all places.  "Evan, there's no way I'm going to let you buy me something here.  It's out of the question."

"So, where shall we start?  Earrings?  Necklaces?  Watches?  Rings?" he asks, not even looking at me.

"Didn't you hear me, Evan?  It's too much.  I don't want you spending your money on jewelry I don't really need."  He's ignoring me completely.

"Okay then, we'll start with earrings."  He takes me by the hand and drags me to the counter where the most beautiful earrings are displayed.  The moment we step towards a counter, we are greeted by a young sales assistant impeccably dressed and beautifully coiffed.  She greets me with a monotone, "Can I help you," until she spots Evan.  From that point on, I am merely an afterthought.  All attention is given to the handsome man standing beside me.

"Good evening, sir.  My name is Stephanie.  What brings you to Tiffany's this evening?" she asks.  Her tone has completely changed.  She is now eager and enthusiastic with a smile plastered across her face.

"We're not exactly sure.  I was thinking about a pair of earrings for my girlfriend.  Something elegant, perhaps.  I'd really like to find something special," he tells Stephanie.

"Certainly, sir.  What type of jewelry does your girlfriend typically wear?  White gold, yellow gold, silver, diamonds?" she asks.  Her eyes haven't left Evan's face.  She's playing with her hair and biting her lip, completely ignoring my existence.

"I'm not sure.  Why don't you ask her," he suggests, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close.

"Oh, I didn't realize.  I, um, thought, she was.  I, uh, yes.  Well, then, I'm sorry, dear, what's your name?" she stutters.

"Juliette," I reply.  Now I'm determined to allow Evan to buy me a pair of earrings tonight, if for no other reason than just to prove a point to this woman.

"What a lovely name.  Okay, Juliette, let's see what we can find for you tonight."  She takes out a few trays of sparking studs earrings in every jewel known to man.  But Evan insists on something more dramatic.  "Well, if it's drama you're looking for, sir, then there's only one choice.  Diamond teardrop earrings." 

She takes out a single box of the most exquisite pair of earrings.  She removes them from the box and hands one to me.  "These earrings were designed by Elsa Peretti and feature pavé diamonds set in pure platinum."  The earrings are stunning.  I hold them up to my ear and look in the small mirror Stephanie placed on the counter.

"Oh, Evan, they're gorgeous.  But when would I need to wear something so extravagant?  Maybe we can find something a little simpler.  Something I would be able to wear to work."

"Juliette, you have the Soft Opening coming up in just two days.  And don't forget, we're going to the ESPYs this summer.  Simple's not going to cut in on the red carpet," he insists.  Evan hasn't even asked how much they cost.  "They look beautiful on you, baby.  The only question is whether or not you like them."

"Like them?  Of course I like them.  What girl wouldn't absolutely love them?"  I do love them, but I hate the idea of Evan spending what must be a small fortune on something so insignificant.