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"She's not too fond of her carrier."
Since Pooh seemed to be doing fine on her own, Phoebe began chatting with the players nearby, asking them about their families, the books they were reading, the music they were listening to on their Walkmans. Pooh had moved on to curl over the prized right foot of the team's placekicker, but as Phoebe came closer, the dog darted across the aisle only to have Darnell Pruitt, the Stars' largest offensive tackle, scoop her up.
"This what you're looking for, Miss Somerville?"
Phoebe hesitated. Of all the men on the team, Darnell Pruitt was the most intimidating. A gold tooth studded with a half-carat diamond glistened in the front of his mouth, and heavy gold chains draped his black leather vest. He was shirtless beneath the vest, revealing a huge chest and heavily muscled forearms displayed in all their polished ebony glory. His eyes were hidden behind menacing black sunglasses, his nose was broad and flat, and a heavy scar puckered one shoulder. An article she had read just the day before in Sports Illustrated had described Darnell as one of the five meanest men in the NFL, and as she studied him, she saw no reason to disagree. S
he noticed that his teammates had left the seat next to him empty.
Even Pooh was intimidated. The poodle crouched on Darnell's lap, muzzle down, peering up at him with wary eyes. With a flash of alarm, Phoebe saw that she definitely looked nervous.
She quickly moved along the aisle, absolutely certain that it was not a good idea for Pooh to get nervous while she was sitting on Darnell Pruitt's lap. When she reached his row, she regarded him anxiously.
"Maybe—uh—I'd better take her."
"Sit down," he barked.
It was a command, not a request, and she collapsed into the empty seat like an accordion.
Darnell's chains rattled.
Pooh began to tremble.
Phoebe chose that inopportune moment to recall the quote Darnell had given Sports Illustrated. What I like most about football, he had said, is seeing my man being carried off the field.
She cleared her throat. "It's—uh—not a good idea for her to get nervous."
"Is that so?" he said belligerently. Scooping up the dog in hands the size of stove mitts, he brought the animal to eye level.
They stared at each other. Darnell's menacing black sunglasses reflected Pooh's round brown eyes. Phoebe held her breath as she waited for catastrophe. The seconds ticked by.
Pooh stuck out her long pink tongue and licked Darnell's cheek.
The diamond in Darnell's gold tooth flashed as he grinned. "I like this dog."
"I can't tell you how happy that makes me," Phoebe said on a single rush of breath.
Pooh nuzzled through Darnell's chains to cuddle closer. He stroked the dog's topknot where the periwinkle bow had come undone as usual. "My mama wouldn't let me have a dog when I was growin' up. She said she didn't want fleas in the house."
"Not all dogs have fleas. Pooh doesn't."
"I'm gonna tell her that. Maybe she'll let me have one now."
Phoebe blinked. "You live with your mother, Darnell?"
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am. She keeps threatenin' to move out, but I know she won't do it till I get married. She says she doesn't trust me to take care of myself."
"I see. Are you getting married soon?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Not sayin' I don't want to, but life can get complicated, you know."
"I certainly do."
"Sometimes the ladies you're attracted to might not be attracted to you or vice versa."
She regarded him curiously. "Which one is it?"
"Pardon me?"
