Once Upon A Half-Time: A Secret Baby Romance Read online

  “Ain’t he sweet?” Orlando cackled.

  Jack shook his head. “Nah. Let him be. A man should do everything he can for a younger brother. Believe me. Good on you, rookie.”

  “Yeah, Sebastian’s all about the swimming pool,” I said. “If we could figure out a way for him to play Minecraft while he was swimming…I’d be his goddamned hero.”

  And I’d make it happen too, just to see the kid smile. At least…before I inadvertently electrocuted him in the pool with an extension cord, the X-Box, and his Minecraft game.

  “Well, shit, you better hope you make it through camp first, rookie.” Orlando dumped two cups of Gatorade on me. “Especially if you want to keep those million dollar checks.”

  I couldn’t move, but I smirked anyway, despite the foul, rain-soaked pad cushioning the goal posts and my cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’m the fucking Heisman Trophy winner. You guys are in for a treat. Just sit back and watch the magic. Nothing’s gonna stop me.”

  I wouldn’t let it.

  I’d bluffed my way through two less-than-impressive practices. It just meant I had to focus more tomorrow. No sense getting bitched out by Coach Thompson three days in a row.

  The guys laughed, but I turned lemons into lemon-lime Gatorade and enjoyed the sticky coolness as their drinks splashed over me.

  Then she spoke.

  And the Gatorade almost boiled off of me.

  “Mind if I take a picture, guys? This is some of your best work.”

  Elle.

  Jesus fuck.

  I tried to swing around the post to look at her, but the tape bound me in place. That was probably for the best. Just the sweet sound of her voice was enough to twist my boxers.

  Hers was a song I couldn’t get out of my head. Her every word, groan, moan, and whimper had cluttered my thoughts and invaded my dreams.

  The guys posed around me. Elle’s camera flashed.

  It was a damn crime she held the camera instead of posing for it. Someone that beautiful deserved to be immortalized.

  In fact, that was the line that won her over during the scouting combine—the fitness test used to grade the incoming draft choices. Three hundred men in peak physical condition competed for the league scouts as well as the beautiful photographer darting between events with a smirk and a flash.

  But I had won. She came back with me from the bar. And she’d stayed in my bed, sunup to sun-down, for three solid days.

  The only thing that might have made it better? Remembering most of it.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lachlan Reed.” Elle circled the goal posts to size me up. Like she hadn’t already licked every inch of me.

  And more.

  I figured after the games we’d played, words we’d said, and crimes we might have committed according to statues set by twelve states, she’d have begged for a second chance or sent me some dirty texts.

  Returned my fucking phone calls.

  Not this girl.

  Hell, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She’d teased me, pleased me, kissed and licked and touched and fucked me, drained me, got me hard again, and then raced to see if she could kill me from pleasure, exhaustion, or dehydration, whichever came first.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered. “Let me get a good picture.”

  Oh, she was a tease. A bronzed goddess in black leggings and a loose fitting white, Rivets tunic that just covered her ass. The shirt hung low off of one shoulder, revealing black skin with a honey glow. Waves of ebony hair bounced over her shoulders, but she’d dyed streaks of bright red into the curls. Playful, not punk. Something sexy and bright.

  She stalked me on legs so perfect I’d offer to wear her as a fanny pack…as long as it didn’t ruin my sprint speed down the field. I didn’t know if it was her or the tape that didn’t let me breathe, but at least I’d die a happy man after earning her smile.

  “Better get my good side,” I said.

  “Believe me…” She raised the camera, snapping a picture of my ass. “I am.”

  Naughty girl.

  Jack angled his finger and thumb as if framing my misery for his own photo. “I don’t know. This looks a little sloppy to me. We might have to do it again tomorrow. Practice makes perfect.”

  Fuck me.

  Elle came to my rescue. “No, this is candid. If it gets too neat, it’ll look staged.”

  “God forbid,” I said.

  She laughed, a fairy-tale twinkle of brightness. “Oh, hush now. You’re getting off easy, rookie.”

  “I’d get off real easy with you, Elle.”

  The guys didn’t laugh.

  Mistake.

  The offensive line circled Elle, more protective of her than their damn quarterback. I twisted, watching as she leaned against Caleb and wagged a disapproving finger at me.

  Orlando crossed his arms. “Na-uh, rookie. This here is our girl.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You’re gonna be real respectful-like to her.”

  Point taken. I caught her glance—those big, almond eyes stared with glee. Her eyebrow arched, baiting me to protest.

  “There’s no one more respectful to a lady than me,” I said. “If my middle name weren’t Generous, it might have been Chivalry.”

  Caleb laughed, though it ended short and punctuated with a scowl. “Don’t mess with Elle.”

  “Can I mess around with her?”

  Elle giggled, but this time it was Jack suiting up in the shining armor. He motioned for the rest of the Gatorade to dunk over my head.

  “You behave, rookie,” he said. “Elle is a nice girl. Too good for the likes of you. Keep your hands to yourself.”

  Elle snapped another picture with a wicked grin. “Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t look so tough. I bet I could take him.”

  Again and again, if a benevolent god existed.

  “Just give me the chance, Red,” I said.

  Jack snickered. “Say the word, Elle, and we’ll take hot-shot here to the freezer.”

  She considered it, tapping her chin with a manicured fingernail tipped in the same gold as our team’s colors. “I think he’s good where he is. Hit the showers, boys. I’ll take it from here.”

  Orlando patted my head. “You’re in trouble now, rookie. Elle’s the most dangerous part of the team.”

  Yeah. I was starting to realize that.

  Jack winked. “See ya, tomorrow. Fresh start, Charming. Don’t forget the doughnuts.”

  Right. Donuts for the quarterbacks and receivers, bagels for the offensive line, and I was supposed to carry half of the team’s bags to the field before practice.

  Busy fucking morning.

  Cole leaned close to Elle, his voice low. “Don’t rough him up too much. Piper will get pissed.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Elle raised the camera. “I’ve got a gentle touch.”

  Gentle touch, dirty mind, and a mouth that loved to tease.

  I’d never had a woman like her before.

  And she sure as hell hadn’t had a guy like me.

  I subtly tested the tape as she circled the goal posts, surveying the team’s work. I was stuck good. She liked that. I couldn’t move, but I gave her a charming grin.

  “Elle, Elle, Elle…” Alone at last. “I knew you’d find me sooner or later.”

  “You were easy to track down. There’s only two goal posts to check.”

  “But you did check. Did you miss me that much, Red?”

  She laughed. “You think I missed you?”

  “Oh yeah. After what we did at the combine?” I wagged my eyebrows. “I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about me.”

  “I’ve penciled time into my schedule specifically for Lachlan Reed related swooning.”

  I hummed. “No need to swoon when you could have called me. After a weekend like that, I’d have run back to your bed. And you know how fast I am.”

  “Not that fast.” She slipped closer to me. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t too fast…weren’t too slow. You were just right.”

  I was hating the goal post. I shifted my legs. Didn’t help. My cock was about to bore a hole straight through the post.

  “You asking for an encore?” I winked.

  “Tempting, but…” Elle flicked a loose piece of tape sticking my ear to my head. “You look like you’re in quite the predicament right now.”

  “What? This?” I laughed so she wouldn’t see me struggling against the damn tape.

  Stuck. Pinned. So fucking close to her and unable to pounce.

  “I’ve been in worse,” I lied. “This is just…a way for me to get a little sun after practice.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, see, this is helping me stretch out all those sore muscles.”

  “Right.” Elle nodded. “I’ll let the trainers know you’ve invented a new regimen.”

  “Yeah, gotta put in the work to look this good. You remember. In Vegas, you gave me all sorts of compliments…verbal and physical.”

  “And I see none of it as gone to your head.”

  “Not the one on my shoulders.”

  Elle scoffed. “I don’t think anything goes to that head—compliments, thoughts, blood.”

  “You didn’t complain at the combine.” I grinned. “Couldn’t. Your mouth was full.”

  “And what’s the secret to keeping you quiet?”

  “Easy. Sit. Spin. Grind. The usual.”

  She took a picture, using the flash to blind me. “Were you this dirty in Vegas?”

  “You’re right.” I blinked. Hard. “I apologize. Let’s get in the shower and clean up.” I wiggled. “Loosen this tape for me?”

  “Nice try,” she said. “But I’ve been with the Rivets for four years now, ever since I was nineteen. I’ve earned the team’s respect, unlike cocky rookies like you. First rule I’ve learned…never interfere with hazing.”

  “Because the rookie will get it worse next time?”

  “No…” She leaned against the goal posts. “Because I enjoy it too.”

  “Mm.” I squirmed before I was forced to buy the goal post breakfast. “I gotta say—I’m loving your whip-crack, sadistic streak. Where’ve you been all my life?”

  “Trying to avoid charming rookies like you.”

  “You’re not doing a good job.”

  “Ah.” She shook her head. “You were technically a college senior when we met, not a rookie.”

  “Is that why you didn’t call me after the draft? You knew I’d come to the Rivets?”

  “I was afraid where else you might have come, Lachlan.”

  I grinned. “Any place in particular you’d like?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Edging, huh?” I asked. “You are sadistic.”

  Elle’s smile was a quick chastisement. “Nope. I’m gonna make this perfectly clear. Now that you’re on the Rivets, you can forget about fooling around.”

  “Red, that’s like asking the ocean not to be wet…or that perfect little secret between your legs.”

  “Lachlan—”

  “Why didn’t you call me? I left you messages.”

  She sighed, taking a couple more photos as two cornerbacks jogged through the end zone and patted me on the head on their way to the locker room.

  Elle shrugged. “We said everything we needed to say at the hotel.”

  “We didn’t really talk at the hotel.”

  “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t interested in your mouth then.”

  “I’m definitely interested in yours now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “At least I left a good impression on you.”

  “An impression? Woman, be glad there’s a goal post holding me back.”

  “Oh yeah?” She lowered the camera and baited me with a wiggle of her hips. “Tell you what, Charming. If you can get out of the tape, you can have me.”

  I thought better of thrashing, gnawing my hand off, or uprooting the goal post. The tape already cut off most of my circulation. I wasn’t risking anything happening to my hands, not after I dropped my share of passes this practice.

  Instead I gave her a dimpled grin and a promise. “Nah, Red. Next time we’re together, you’re gonna beg for me.”

  She laughed. “The next time?”

  “Yeah, the next time. You owe me.”

  “What could I possibly owe you?”

  “You didn’t say goodbye when you left. Just up and disappeared. You gotta know what that does to a guy like me.”

  “Did you want me to stay? Help you whittle a mark into your bedpost?”

  “Baby, you are the mark in my bedpost. You’re the pinnacle. The gold—no, ebony standard.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  I smiled. “Red, my bed is cold without you.”

  “Might I suggest a blanket?”

  “I’d prefer body heat.”

  Click.

  She took another picture, watching me squirm. Desperation in black and white.

  Still, I gave the lady what she wanted.

  “Enjoy it, Elle. Here. Let me flex.”

  She giggled. “At least you’re a good sport about this. You know the hazing will get worse.”

  “I’ll let them tie me up naked next time, provided you’re there to document it,” I said.

  “Oh hell…I wouldn’t miss that. The team wouldn’t even have to pay me.”

  “Fuck the team, we don’t need them. We’ll do it this Saturday night, just you and me.”

  “You’re relentless, you know that?”

  Couldn’t help it. I finally had her in my sights…and we had a lot to talk about.

  “Let me take you out,” I said. “We have some unsettled business to sort through.”

  “Enticing.”

  “Legally binding.”

  “Underwhelming.”

  I sighed. “If your panties aren’t soaked, I must not be selling this opportunity right.”

  “I’ll wring them out when I get home.”

  That sass. She needed something in her mouth to silence it…or a man to worship her while she dished out the harassment.

  “You really should go out with me.” Any attempt at sincerity was wasted as my erection smashed into the goal post. “We should talk.”

  The camera lowered. She wove a hand through her hair, twisting one of the red locks over her finger.

  Why did that look so familiar?

  “Lachlan…I’m not the kind of girl you think I am.”

  “The one I’m spending the rest of my life with?”

  “Not even close.” She shook her head. “I’m not someone who spends a weekend with a complete stranger, indulging in hour after hour of remorseless, anonymous sex.”

  “Good thing we’re not strangers anymore,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not that type, Lachlan…at least, not without copious amounts of alcohol.”

  “Then drop the camera and grab a bottle of wine, cause I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

  “I know I never said goodbye.” She took a breath. “And I never thanked you for the weekend. It was more fun than either of us should have had.”

  “I’m the gift that keeps on giving, Red. Go out with me again so we can talk when I’m not…” I gave a tug. “Indulging the team’s traditions.”

  Elle ripped a piece of tape from my shoulders. She hesitated, as if considering helping me escape. But that fantasy was too good to be true. She patted the tape over my mouth without the decency of a kiss first.

  “Shh. It was a one-time thing, Lachlan. Not a mistake, but it wasn’t anything that can happen again. We’re working together now. I’m not on the field getting my head crushed by linebackers, but we have to see each other. A lot. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it already is.”

  I laughed. The sound muffled in the tape, but she wouldn’t have listened even if I yelled it.

  Jesus, she didn’t remember anything from our weekend.

  Wow.

  Well…it would be an awkward conversation when she finally decided to talk.

  And a major life revelation.

  Wouldn’t she be surprised.

  Elle stepped away, taking one last picture. “Start at your ankles. The tape’s a little loose down there.”

  I nodded, but she didn’t stay to watch the fun as I shredded through the tape.

  I should have followed. Should have run after her. Shouldn’t have let her leave without telling her the truth and demanding another dinner, another night, another morning with her.

  Elle thought our story had ended?

  Hell no. Our fairy-tale was only beginning.

  3

  Elle

  The sweltering summer afternoon was made hotter because Lachlan Reed was on the field.

  I was starting my fourth season with the Rivets, and I’d never once gone boy-crazy. Most of the guys weren’t my type, some were already married, and the others were notorious bad boys. To protect my career, the closest I ever got to the players was through a four hundred millimeter lens.

  Except this training camp was different.

  It was like Lachlan stuffed a magnet down his jock strap. I’d tried to keep busy, but I crept further onto the field, parking my butt in the middle of the wide-receivers’ routes as I searched for him. I wasn’t very subtle. Even surreptitiously capturing pictures of the rookie tight-end twenty-yards away got me into trouble.

  “You’re open, Elle!” Caleb shouted to me from across the field.

  I peeked through the viewfinder in time to see three footballs spiraling through the air, aimed dead center for my forehead.

  With a camera in hand, humiliation was always closer than it appeared.

  I ducked, twisted, and collapsed to the grass before the balls plunked around me, much to the delight of the offensive line.

  Jack and his two backups laughed. They reared back again, and, like some medieval general loading the catapults, Jack aimed for me.

  “Fire!”

  I pointed the camera and got the shot of Jack mid-release, his arm flexed and the ball just out of the frame. That gave me no time to hide. I spun. The ball spiraled right into my ass, and the dull thunk of pig-skin against my skin would entertain the men for the remainder of the day.

  I could expect some great lunch-time conversation about the imbedded league logo that probably bruised my butt.