Carson hung back on purpose so he could stare at Sadie’s luscious ass as she descended the stairs in front of him. The heavenly aroma of fresh-baked cornbread permeated the lower floor of the house. They walked into the kitchen, catching Tamera as she was transferring the food from the pans into dishes.
“Pot roast with potatoes, carrots, celery, and okra,” she said.
“Cornbread?” Sadie asked.
“Over there, sweetie.” Tamera pointed to a bowl on the counter that was covered with a towel.
Without hesitation, Sadie helped herself, forgoing butter. Kernels of corn were baked in the bread, adding to the flavor. Sadie’s mother wasn’t a bad cook; she just never had the time to make things from scratch. And though Sadie could cook fairly well, her culinary abilities paled in comparison to Tamera’s talent in the kitchen. “This is so good, Tamera.”
“Eat to your heart’s content,” she said. “There’s three more loaves in the oven. I’ll be sure to send you home with a loaf.”
Sadie looked at Carson.
“Sadie is spending the weekend with us.”
Once they were seated in the dining room and Tamera served their meal, she started for the kitchen.
“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Carson asked, standing up and pulling out Tamera’s usual chair.
Tamera gazed at Sadie and Carson. “I can handle eating by myself tonight. You two have a lot to talk about.”
“But you’ll have dessert with us, right?” Sadie asked.
Tamera winked at her and left the room.
Carson watched Sadie take a few bites of pot roast, enjoying the utter look of pleasure on her face. It was something he’d missed about her. She was never able to mask her emotions, and he’d always appreciated the way she reacted to different situations so openly—good or bad. In this case, food—which, for Sadie, might equal the intensity of multiple orgasms. After another moan, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“If I’d known how much you missed her cooking…”
“I ate dinner with your family every Sunday for three years, Carson. How couldn’t I miss it?”
He just stared at her, looking thoughtful.
“What?” she asked with her mouth still full of food. “You’d dangle that temptation in my face to get me here sooner?” She laid her fork aside and took a sip of red wine.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’d have probably come.”
Carson smirked and rubbed his chin. “Already took care of that little detail, Kitty Kat. Several times.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever think of anything else?”
“Football.”
“So that’s the extent of your thoughts? Sex and football?”
“Not necessarily in that order.”
“Okay…football and sex. Or sex and football depending on the day of the week.”
Carson smiled. “Put that on my profile.”
“I think the front office is looking for something a little more wholesome.”
Carson swallowed a generous portion of beer before he answered. “You read my personnel file. I make regular visits to the children’s burn unit at Saint Francis Hospital, sponsor a football camp every summer, and appear regularly at Big Brothers Big Sisters.”
“Who do you mentor?”
“Charlie Silva—since fifth grade.”
Impressed by his dedication, she asked, “How old is he now?”
“Thirteen, just started middle school.”
“Wait…” Sadie did the math. That meant…“When did you start mentoring Charlie?”
“Before I went pro.”
“Why don’t you go public with it? Share the special moments with your fans?”
“No,” he immediately refused. “Promised Charlie’s mom I’d keep a low profile with her son.”
“But if you managed it the right way, we could turn this into a fundraising opportunity for Big Brothers Big Sisters.”
And a photo op to benefit the team. Nope. Carson shoveled a generous portion of roast into his mouth. “Just cut a one hundred-thousand-dollar check for them last quarter.”
“What if the public matched you dollar-for-dollar?”
That caught his attention. Might be worth it if Sadie could find a way to do it without involving Charlie. “How?”
“There’s so many ways—silent auctions, a community fair, or perhaps a mini training camp.”
“I like the fair idea best. Dunk the quarterback.”
“You’d sit in a little glass box filled with water and let everyone throw balls at a target to see you get wet?”
“For the kids?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah.”
Carson could see her formulating, thinking about how to pull it off in such a short span of time.
“We should plan several events. Drop off some groceries at a shelter. Cleanup day at a park.” She rested her cheek on her palm. “As long as you let me take some pictures and video footage.”
“I still don’t understand why Jack went to all this trouble.” The front office had never mentioned the depth or severity of the team’s publicity issues. “You’d think they’d try asking us to turn things around on our own first.”
Sadie folded her linen napkin and dabbed at her lips. “Easier said than done.”
“How so?”
“It’s not just one or two players, Carson. Remember what I said the first day? Congress has a better approval rating than the Warriors?”
“Off the field, maybe.”
“Yes—there’s no loss of confidence in your playing ability.”
“This is our year, Kitty Kat, I can feel it.” He scanned her beautiful face, looking for a sign of faith in him.
Her gentle smile was all he needed. “I never doubted your talent, Carson. Every year the team gets better.”
“I knew you were watching me.” He reached for her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. “I was always showing off a little in case you were.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Sure, I do.” Having her here, in his house, meant everything. And if she took the time to think about it, she’d see her lasting influence over him everywhere she looked. He might have been a selfish ass, but he never forgot anything she confided in him—her dreams, especially. “How about we take a ride after dessert?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
A few minutes later, Tamera cleared the plates and returned with a pecan pie. Sadie accepted a small piece, attacking it with the same enthusiasm she showed for the cornbread.
Tamera chuckled as she took a forkful of pie. “There’s more if you’d like another piece.”
Sadie laid her fork aside and covered her mouth as she chewed and swallowed the last bite. “I’m so sorry. I have horrible table manners, Tamera.”
“Don’t apologize for enjoying food. It’s one of the pleasures in life.”
Once they were finished, Sadie helped Tamera clear the table, then Carson took her to the garage behind his house, the one where he stored his collection of exotic cars. “Pick one.”
“What?”
“Surely there’s something you’ve always wanted to drive?”
She walked between the two rows of vehicles, sixteen in total, stopping in front of the Viper.
His lips lifted in humor. “Kind of special, isn’t it?” He’d never think of that car in the same way again.
“Mm-hm.”
Joining her by the car, he opened the driver’s side door and grabbed the key from the ignition, then dangled it in front of her face. “Want to drive, sweetheart?”
“More temptation?”
“You can have anything you want.” Including a Super Bowl ring if she stuck around long enough.
“You drive,” she said.
“All right.”
“I can’t believe you leave the key in the ignition. Aren’t you afraid someone will steal your car?”
“State-of-the-art security system and the fact that this is my house? Nope, never gave it a second thought.” If someone had the balls to break in and try to steal his cars, they’d have to get through him first.
Once he got her situated in the car, he climbed in, started the engine, and drove out of the garage, closing the door with his remote.
Twenty minutes later when he turned onto Highway 98 south, Sadie’s demeanor changed. She looked uncomfortable. Carson squeezed her hand. “I’m not taking you to Fairhope.”
“No?” She frowned. “Isn’t that where the highway goes?”
“We’re going to Point Clear.”
“Point Clear?” she repeated, looking confused.
“Yup.”
Seemingly satisfied with his explanation, she settled back down, searching for a radio station she liked. She stopped when she heard Disturbed, turning up the volume. Carson watched her get into the music, bobbing her head up and down to the unforgiving beat, singing the words to “Stupify” like she meant it. Several songs finished before he turned off the highway and onto a dirt road.
Outside of his teammates, Sadie was the only other person Carson wanted to show the farm to. The place had belonged to his great-grandparents in the 1930s, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to restore the farmhouse and barn to their original glory.
Carson planned on surprising his mother and sisters with it soon. No one deserved a life of relaxation like his mother did. After his father died during his second deployment with the Marines in Afghanistan, Carson’s mom had to go back to work. The farm was one of many luxuries he could afford to give his mama now.
The land was flat but lush and green, acres of viable farmland stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“Where are we, Carson?”
“Stanhope Farm,” he said.
“Are you taking me berry picking?” she asked.
Alabama was full of farms where you could go and pick whatever fruits and vegetables that were in season for ten dollars. “Better than that,” he said, taking the final turn. The gravel driveway ended at the barn and farmhouse. “This property used to belong to my great-grandparents.”
“Really?” She got out of the car. “I think I remember you talking about it.”
“Jonathan and Rose Stanhope, my mother’s grandparents. Moved here from New York in the early 1930s to start a farm. I had an opportunity to buy it awhile back.” There was nothing remarkable about the property except that it belonged to his family again. The old white house looked better with the fresh coat of paint the caretaker had recently finished. The double-crib barn was a work in progress. Carson had insisted on reclaiming the original materials to rebuild the structure.
A dark-haired man exited the barn, smiling as he walked over to where they were standing. “Carson,” he said, shaking his hand.
“Good to see you, Rex. This is Sadie Reynolds.”
“Ma’am.” The retired Marine bent his head respectfully. “Anything I can do?”
“Just here for berry picking,” Carson said, slipping his arm around Sadie’s waist.
“There’s baskets on the porch. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, walking back to the barn.
“Who is he, Carson?”
“Captain Rex Dubois, served with my dad in Afghanistan.”
“How’d he end up here?”
“After Dad died, we stayed in touch. Made me feel better having someone to write to who knew my father. Rex retired a few years ago, suffers from PTSD. The place needs a lot of repairs and upkeep, so I offered him the job.”
Sadie was silent a moment. “Wait a second…He didn’t need a job, did he? He’s an officer, probably draws a comfortable retirement.”
“He does,” Carson admitted. “But sometimes the best therapy for a man involves using his hands.”
“And you pay him?”
“Of course I pay him. And he lives here rent-free.”
She looked around again, in the direction of the house, then at the barn. “What kind of berries do you grow here?”
“Mostly blackberries.”
“What else?”
“Beets, potatoes, tomatoes, and there’s an apple orchard west of the house that my great-grandfather planted.”
“Perfect,” she said, typing something on her cell phone.
“Sadie, what are you doing?”
“Taking notes.”
Hell, did the girl ever stop thinking about work? “No.”
“No, what?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.
“The world doesn’t need to know about this place.”
“Of course they do.”
Carson crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re relentless. I like my privacy, Sadie. So does Rex.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I don’t need the press camping out on my land—harassing Rex—disturbing the peace around here.”
“We don’t even need to say where the farm is. Just the idea of the farm, and what you’re doing for Rex is enough to garner that positive image we need to focus on.”
“Sadie…” He scrubbed his face. “I plan on gifting this farm to my mother and sisters in a few weeks. Mom needs to retire, and the girls should learn something about their family history, maybe how to work the land some.”
“Listen to me, Carson. I’ve been struggling to find a way to repackage you without duplicating what the others are doing. Everyone expects the players to visit sick kids or donate money to whatever charitable organization you prefer. But this…A Marine captain who served with your father recovering from PTSD while he rebuilds a historical property? And you? Keeping this a secret so you can reward your mother for years of hard work? Think about it. It’s genuine and fresh. Not a photo op or staged. The locals will connect with you on a deeper level.”
“Rex wouldn’t like it.”
“Actually,” Rex said, interrupting them.
Sadie turned to her right, finding the captain holding a couple of baskets.
“Thought you’d want these.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking them. “I’m sorry if you overheard our discussion.”
“No.” He smiled. “I like your idea.” He gazed at Carson. “You should listen to the pretty lady.”
Carson waited for Rex to get out of earshot before he spoke again. “Damn it, Sadie. Still charming the shit out of any man.”
“I’ve been accused of worse things.” She licked her lips.
“Keep doing that and the only thing you’re going to be picking is grass off your backside after I get done fucking you in that field over there.”
She followed the direction of his gaze, then deliberately licked her lips more suggestively.
Carson growled, tugging her into his arms and kissing her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Kitty Kat.”