Carson stepped off the elevator and into the lobby. The hotel was a historic building with a Tiffany glass ceiling and whispering arches, and he appreciated the mix of traditional Southern architecture and contemporary luxury. How many nights had he spent here, skinny dipping in the private rooftop pool with random women he met after home games? He usually tried to meet women away from the stadium, hoping they wouldn’t recognize him. But lately, everyone seemed to know who he was even though he did his best to stay out of the public eye.
“Carson Savage?” a teenage boy asked, a grin on his face.
Carson never avoided kids. They were the exception to the rule. “Sure am.”
“Dad!” The boy turned around and searched for his father. “It’s Carson Savage—the quarterback for the Warriors!”
A man in his forties joined them and extended his hand. “We’re big fans.”
Carson shook his hand enthusiastically. “Thanks. Do you play football?” he asked the kid.
“First year. I’m a tight end.”
Always prepared, Carson reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a Moleskine notebook and pen. “From Alabama?”
“Texas,” the teenager answered, eyeing the pad in his hand. “Can I have your autograph?”
“Sure can. What’s your name?”
“Daniel Sullivan.”
Carson wrote the kid a personalized note and signed his name. “Here. Keep your head in the game, okay?”
Daniel accepted the paper and stared at it with awe.
“Thanks, Carson,” the dad said. “Can we get a picture?”
Posing with his arm draped over the kid’s shoulders, Carson smiled and waited for the flash to go off. Once he was done, he shook hands with the father and son again and watched them amble off, chatting excitedly. That’s what made the game worth it, starry-eyed kids with big dreams. Not the fame and fortune, or the endless stream of women he had access to.
“Mr. Savage?”
Carson found the concierge waiting for him. “Good evening, Blake.”
Blake nodded. “Can I get you anything? A room? Perhaps a table in the restaurant?”
“Actually, I was just leaving. But now that I think about it, my friend is staying in room 802, Sadie Reynolds. Could you arrange for a Champagne breakfast and three dozen red roses to be delivered in the morning?”
“Of course.”
“And I’d appreciate if you’d keep an eye out for her—she’s been away from Alabama for a long time. Might not know her way around.” Code for She’s mine and I don’t want other men sniffing about. Blake was an invaluable asset, used to making discreet arrangements for Carson and his teammates.
“I understand, Mr. Savage.”
“If she needs anything, call me.” Carson reached inside his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He offered Blake a generous tip. “Keep an open charge on my account for her.”
Satisfied his wishes would be carried out, he exited the hotel. Unlike most of his teammates, Carson didn’t mind being out by himself. He didn’t keep a driver or bodyguard because it would only draw more attention. His truck was parked around the block, and he walked casually down the street, the cool breeze off Mobile Bay a welcome relief from the high humidity.
He’d come to the hotel for a couple of reasons, to see Sadie and to offer her his guesthouse. He didn’t like the idea of her staying in a hotel alone. The fact that she agreed to dinner revealed a lot. Sadie May Reynolds still wanted him. And though she acted hostile, her body gave off different signals, especially when he took her in his arms. Christ…those tiny shorts showcased her perfect ass, and that silky top gave him an eyeful of cleavage that practically made him drool. He bit his tongue, his blood boiling with desire. Seven years apart hadn’t changed anything between them.
It made him want to bash his head against a wall for having been a fool when she ran away from Fairhope right after their breakup. Yeah, he’d called, written letters, and even talked to her parents. But pride had kept him from getting on a plane and flying to New England to get her back. Instead he partied all summer—drinking himself stupid to try to forget about her.
“How’d that work out?” he asked as he reached his vehicle.
Apparently not too good, because the minute he saw her again, he reverted back to the little asshole he used to be in high school.
Opening his truck door, he slid into the leather seat and started the engine. Air-conditioning blasted his face and he leaned back, closing his eyes, remembering what it felt like to hold her. Her pebble-hard nipples pressed against his chest, her toned stomach rubbing across his body. People couldn’t buy that kind of chemistry. His heart ached for the past, for what they shared. That comfortable familiarity that only comes with time and love.
He opened his eyes and slammed his hands on the steering wheel, frustrated with himself. He’d deserved to lose her all those years ago. He was a selfish prick for not considering her dreams—for putting his own above hers. Football had invaded his mind and heart, blinding him to anything going on around him. Carson had made some big assumptions back then, like Sadie would follow him to Florida while he played ball on a full scholarship, and then marry him after he graduated.
One-sided dreams.
Merging with traffic, he headed for his house in the College Park neighborhood, west of downtown Mobile. The real reason he’d invited Sadie to stay in his guesthouse was so she could see the property he’d bought two years ago. It reflected her idea of the perfect Southern home, the kind of place she’d told him she’d love to raise a family. Well, he’d succeeded in getting the dream house, but not the family.
Surrounded by two acres of landscaped yard and gardens, the thousand-square-foot wraparound porch was a pleasant respite from the heat. Instead of going inside, Carson sat in one of the wicker rocking chairs and waited for his housekeeper to join him outside like she did every night. Tamera Collins was more like a mother to him. Employed by his parents for twenty years, when he landed a contract with the Warriors, she demanded to move to Mobile with him. She had lost her only child in a car accident fifteen years ago, so Carson told her she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to work. But Tamera liked to be needed, so she mothered him, and Carson loved her for it.
The screen door opened, and Carson hid his smile behind his hand.
“Carson?”
“I’m here, Tamera.”
She carried a tray to the nearby table and set it down. There was a small bucket of ice with four beer bottles in it. Two for him and two for her.
“Trying to get me drunk?” he teased.
She chuckled. “You look out of sorts.”
Gazing up at her, he found instant comfort in her sincere, dark eyes. When he was in town, their nightly ritual was to drink and shoot the shit. “Sadie is in town.”
Tamera gaped at him. “Sadie Reynolds?”
He nodded.
“Good Lord in heaven.”
“I stopped by her hotel tonight.”
Tamera sat in the rocking chair opposite his and helped herself to one of the Coronas. “How did you know she was here?” She twisted the cap off the bottle and took a sip.
“Jack Menzies is on the warpath and hired Sadie’s PR firm to revamp our social media profiles and improve public relations.”
“Well…” Tamera rocked back and forth. “Did you guys give Jack a reason to get mad? I know how you feel about watching the news, but there always seems to be negative coverage of the team. Boys behaving badly, if you know what I mean.”
Carson appreciated that Tamera was too much of a lady to give more details. “Yes,” he said taking a swig of beer. “Jack’s actions are justifiable.”
A moment of silence passed between them before she spoke again. “I bet Sadie is as pretty as ever.”
Carson swallowed the emotions building up in his throat. “She’s beautiful, Tamera. Not the beanstalk we remember.”
“Beanstalk? Long and lean, maybe.”
Yeah, long and lean and curvy in all the right places. The kind of curves Carson wanted to run his hands over again and again. “She wasn’t too happy to see me tonight.”
“Gentlemen don’t make unannounced visits.”
“Are you chastising me, Tamera?”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “Depends on why you went to see her.”
There were too many reasons, really. “I offered her a place to stay.”
Tamera emitted another soft chuckle. “I might be an old woman, Carson, but I’m not stupid.”
Carson considered his housekeeper. At fifty-eight, she had more energy than most thirty-year-old women. She also had a keen sense of right or wrong, never compromising to make Carson feel better. If he acted like an idiot, she called him on it. “All right.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “After spending the morning with her in the classroom, I wanted a chance to talk to her alone.”
“That’s better.”
“For who?”
She raised an eyebrow. “The truth will set you free.”
“Or make you miserable.” He finished off his first beer and reached for another. “Regardless of my motivation, it seems she’s not interested in me outside of a professional relationship.”
“What did you expect? The two of you parted on bad terms, Carson, broke each other’s hearts. You were kids. Be patient and kind if you really want to win her trust back.”
Carson set his bottle aside and folded his hands on his lap, feeling more restless. Knowing Sadie was a twenty-minute drive away made him want to get back in his truck and speed to the hotel. He wanted to apologize for being an asshole. He wanted to listen to her rattle on about her life—to hold her in his arms—to just be a friend. And in the back of his mind, to seduce her…
“Give her time.”
“Doesn’t seven years count for anything?”
Tamera held his gaze. “It’s a start.”