Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (20 page)

W
e only have
time for a quick tour of the field before it’s time to feed Max’s little monsters.

Back at their hotel, we end up grabbing a table on the roof terrace restaurant overlooking downtown. I watch enviously as Cassie and Ginger scarf down chicken fingers, bread, and mac and cheese that has my pre-season diet stomach growling while I poke at the steamed vegetables on my own plate.

“So, being good, Holden?” Hannah says with a grin over the lip of her wine glass.

Max snorts.

“Of
course
I am.”

She raises a suspicious brow at me and I laugh.

“Hannah, I’m being good. There’s this girl, actually, who’s keeping me-”

I stop and frown immediately.

Why the fuck did I say that? It just comes out though, despite being an absurd thing to say.

Hell, I think it’s pretty clear that London isn’t “a girl” in that way - the way like “I’ve been seeing someone” or “there’s someone I’m dating.”

No, fuck that.

We’re not “seeing each other” and we’re sure as hell not “dating”.

We’re
fucking
, from time to time.

Really good, really hot, really casual, no strings attached,
fucking.

Max laughs deeply.

“Wow, shocker; there’s a girl huh?”

“Not like that, ass,” I mutter, out of earshot of Cassie and Ginger who’re now done with their dinner and doing a puzzle on the patio floor near our table.

Max rolls his eyes.

“Brother, I’ve known you a long time, and it’s
always
like that.”

“Well maybe I’m getting better,” I say with a shrug.

“Something in the Texas air, huh?” Hannah grins at me.

“You guys are dicks.”

They laugh, Hannah leaning into Max sitting next to her and snuggling into her husband.

They look happy.

They look genuine.

They look like they’re in love.

Hell, the idea of even hooking up with a girl more than three times terrifies me, let alone being with someone for seven fucking years. Or fuck,
marrying
them, and having kids with them.

Kids,
yikes
.

Cassandra and Ginger are goddamn adorable, and tons of fun to play with. But holy shit is having kids so much more than that. If all it took, were cartoons and games of hide and seek, then sure, sign me up.

Maybe.

But it’s a lot more than that, and I’ve known Max long enough to see that. They’re loud, they cry, they smell.

They poop all the time.

And yet, Max looks like he’s got the fucking world in his back pocket, with his arm around his wife and his eyes on his two little girls. He looks fucking untouchable, invincible, and like the rest of the shit in the world just doesn’t matter.

And maybe it doesn’t when you’ve got a family like that, who knows.

Not me, that’s for sure.

Max turns back to me. “So, who’s the girl?”

“Oh, interested now?”

He laughs. “Sure.”

I scowl and look away.

“It’s nothing, actually.”

“Oh?” Hannah’s brow perks up.

“Okay, it was maybe something but,” I trail off and wave my hand. “It’s nothing.”

I look away, thinking about what I’m even saying.

It was maybe something?
Huh?

No, it wasn’t. “It” was London and I having a lot of fun together, and the thrill of it being a secret fueling the sex.

That’s it
. Period.

I look back up, but Max is still staring at me.

“What.”

He shrugs. “Nothing man, you just seem, I dunno, better.”

“Better?”

“Healthier, happier.”

I shrug.

“You didn’t drink with dinner.”

“What?”

He nods at the water glass next to my empty plate.

“I noticed. You didn’t get a beer or anything.”

I frown.

“Dude I’m in training mode.”

Hannah grins as she arches a brow at me.

“Oh, that’s stopped you before has it?”

I make a face at her as she laughs.

“This got anything to do with this girl of yours?”

I roll my eyes.

“I told you, she’s not
my girl
.”

Hannah rolls her eyes.

“Well your possession of her notwithstanding, does your shaping up have anything to do with her?”

I laugh, shaking my head and looking away.

Except she’s hit a note, as much as I don’t want to follow that thought. She’s touched on something I’ve been purposefully not exploring - the idea that the “change” I needed and the fresh start I was looking for might not have anything to do with a football team or a new city.

That it might be
her
.

I quickly change the subject as I turn to Max.

“Look, you still want to go back and check out the facilities back at the stadium or not.”

“You guys got the same aquatic weight training system the Rattlesnakes just put in?”

I scowl.

“No.”

Hannah laughs.

“Oh let Holden show you his new stadium.”

Max winks at me.

“Alright, alright.”

He stands and bends down to kiss his wife on the forehead.

“You and the girls fine for bedtime?”

She pulls him into a kiss.

“Definitely. I promised them Little Mermaid.”

Max chuckles.

“
Nice;
I’m jealous.”

I snort and he looks up at me and shrugs, his tough-guy face coming back.

“Little Mermaid puts them to bed in like five minutes.”

“Uh-huh,” I grin at him.

“Alright, let’s go see your little peewee field.”

“You really are a dick.”

* * *

“
Y
ou know
, this place ain’t that bad.”

“I know
, dude.”

I take Max through the doors from the weight room into the physical therapy wing.

“This place has good bones, and the team isn’t
that
bad, they just need a push.”

“And that’s you?”

I blow air through my lips as I glance up at the posters on the wall from the last Houston championship from seven years ago.

“Apparently.”

We continue on through our tour of the hallways of the stadium.

“I think you’re going to do well here, buddy.”

I sigh.

“Let’s hope so, or this was one dumb move.”

“Nah, I was just giving you shit before. I think the move did you good. You’re looking better, and you don’t look like you just crawled out of a bar.”

I laugh and he looks at me.

“What.”

“So this is all football related then? Nothing to do with this girl?”

I roll my eyes. “No way.”

“Who is this chick anyways?”

“She’s no-one, man.”

We round the corner and walk
right
into London’s friend Serena.

“Oh, hi!” she grins at me.

“Hey there.”

Serena’s eyes strangely linger on me. I cough.

“Uh, this is Max Sheffield, of-”

“Of the Denver Rattlesnakes - yeah, I know who he is.”

She smiles and shakes Max’s hand before turning back to me and giving me a look.

“I
do
work for a professional football team, Holden.” She grins at me again before turning back to him. “So, are we stealing you, too?”

Max chuckles, but as Serena turns back to me, his eyebrows raise as he nods questioningly at her.

I get that look instantly.

He thinks
she’s
“the girl.”

He could
not
be more wrong.

“So, looking for London?”

My eyes snap back to her, seeing the pointed look in her eyes.

I pointedly ignore it.

“Uh, nope, just showing Max around.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, nodding but with her eyes never leaving mine.

I clear my throat. “Why, is she around?”

Serena shakes her head. “You just missed her.”

“Ah, cool.” I cough as nonchalantly as I can as I turn back to a confused looking Max.

“Well, let’s head out and see if-”

“She’s out to dinner.”

I freeze, feeling something tug at my gut - something hot and fierce and confusing.

Something that I’m pretty fucking sure might be
jealousy.

“Oh?” I say as casually as possible.

Serena’s brow cocks.

“Mhmm. I think it’s business thing.”

I breathe a little inside.

Serena sighs.

“Somehow, none of
my
business dinners end up being with good looking men at places like
Chez Toulouse
,” she whistles.

“Chez Toulouse?”

She gives me a look.

“Uh, it’s only
the
most romantic restaurant in town.”

What the fuck.

That horrible, confusing, roaring feeling comes igniting back through me. The thought of London out with some fucking guy somehow driving me fucking insane. The thought of her being with some other dude has my blood searing through my veins like hot lead, the world sort of dimming around me. I tunnel-vision onto what she’s just said.

“Holden?”

I blink, shaking myself out of that little shroud as I realize they’re both staring at me.

Serena’s brow furrows.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah.” I shake my head. “I was just supposed to talk to her about some contract shit, that’s all.”

She nods, but her eyes still say “bullshit.”

“Right, well, I’ll tell her you stopped by then.”

“Cool, great,” I mumble out.

“Nice to meet you, Max.”

She smiles at him again and then gives me one last look before she steps past us and walks away.

“Damn,
brother.”

I snap my eyes to him.

“What?”

He whistles lowly. “I thought
that
chick was “the girl” at first and was about to give you a big lesson about shitting where you eat.”

“Well, relax, it’s not.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He shakes his head at me. “It’s way fucking worse.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Leave it, man.”

“
London
Jacobs?” He stares at me. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Dude, forget it, it’s nothing.”

“The hell it is.”

I groan.

“Look, it was just this stupid thing; it’s done.”

“You hooked up with Archie Jacobs’s
daughter
. You know she partially
owns
the team, don’t you?”

“Yeah,
got it
, thanks,” I hiss at him. “And we didn’t ‘hook up’, so relax.”

Max scowls right back at me.

“Look me dead in the eye and tell me you didn’t sleep with your boss’s daughter.”

I look away and Max swears under his breath. “Well, shit.”

I sigh as I turn back to him.

“Dude, it’s nothing alright? Let’s go get a beer before Hannah makes you come back to the hotel.”

“Don’t put this on me, dick,” he scowls, his voice rumbling.

“So, London Jacob’s is
her
.”

“She is not.”

Max sighs and shakes his head as we start heading back down the hallway. He shakes his head as we step out onto the dark field, picking up an errant football and tossing it in his hands.

“So, what’d you do, piss her off? Shove her away?”

“Something like that.”

“And now she’s out with some dude.”

“I guess.”

I catch the ball he tosses my way.

“And here I was thinking this move was a new you.”

I glare at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Max shrugs.

“Figured you moved here to be a winner instead of passively taking second or third place.”

I sigh.

“I
did
.”

Max looks up and grins at me.

“Winners don’t sit here playing catch with their buddies while the girl they’re into is out with some fucking dipshit. Winners go out and
get her
.”

T
he maître d
’ at Chez Toulouse greets me warmly, if not formally.

“Right this way, Ms. Jacobs. Your party is already seated.”

I’m led through the richly decorated, elegant dining room to a table in the back.

Interesting choice for a business dinner.

I blush, thinking of “business dinners” of recent history.

Landon stands as I approach the table, nodding formally before we both take our seats. He’s dressed in a black suit this time, but he’s left it somewhat casual - sans tie and with a button undone at the top of his shirt. I’m suddenly thankful I got Serena’s help on a classy yet demure dress before coming out tonight, even if it did entail dealing with her “knowing looks” and little comments.

“My, my, my, someone’s dance card has been VERY full recently.”

“Cool your jets, it’s a business dinner.”

She sticks her head back out of my closet and rolls her eyes.

“Weird, I feel like I’ve been hearing that one a lot recently.”

“Thanks for coming out, Ms. Jacobs.”

I laugh quietly.

“Well, you piqued my interest, Mr. Reece,”

He smiles.

“What if we tone the formality down, shall we? Just Landon will do fine, if you’re okay with London.”

I smile, feeling some of the stiffness of the evening leaving my body.

“I always feel as though, shall we call them
off the record
, business meetings like this work better if both parties feel a bit more casual.”

I smile. “I think that works just fine for me.

Landon nods as a waiter arrives.

“Champagne?”

I shake my head.

“Maybe a bit
too
casual, and I still don’t actually know what this is about.”

Landon chuckles.

“One glass, please,” he says to the waiter before he turns his attention back to me, a smile on his face.

“Well, well, the famous LJ Jacobs comes out. Sharp, to the point, and certainly not falling for my attempts at loosening things up.”

I flash a smile as I shrug.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Landon.”

He chuckles. “Well, since you’re every bit the negotiator I assume you are to have taken Holden Cade out from under us-”

“Look, I told you before, I’m
really
not interested in talking contract status about-”

“And I told
you
,” he says, raising a sharp brow at me. “That I’ve got zero interest in discussing Holden Cade
or
his contract.”

His eyes bore right into mine as he leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms across his chest.

“I’m actually more interested in talking about
your
contract.”

I blink, my brow furrowing.

“My contract?”

I don’t actually
have
a contract, because it is, after all,
my
family’s team. I peer at Landon across the low-lit table, trying to figure out what he’s talking about.

“Needless to say, London, we were
very
impressed with the way you managed to get Holden to sign on with the Bulls.” He eyes me. “
Very
impressed
.
You took a home-town hero who lived and
breathed
Denver football, and managed to get him to jump ship for a losing team - no offense - at
less
money.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “That is
damn
good negotiating, I must say.”

I grin, basking in the compliment.

“None taken. I do my research, I know what makes players tick, and I know what their leverage is. My job is just to put all that into practice and make it happen.”

Landon nods. “Which is the job of
every
scout and contract negotiator. And yet, neither myself or anyone else in our organization has ever seen someone pull off something like this. Not even close.”

His eyes lock onto mine again, the raw confidence and power exuding into mine.

“It’s an impressive, and a formidable talent you’ve got. And a valuable one.” He clasps his hands on the table in front of him, looking at them before he glances up at me. “Which is why we’re prepared to offer you an
impressive
package to secure you as the new lead talent scout and negotiator for the Denver Rattlesnakes.”

The floor drops out from under me.

What
.

I blink, my mouth opening as if it’s got words to speak, even though I have no idea how to even respond.

Landon grins widely at me.

“It’s an immediate position, London. We want you on our team before the seasons starts.”

Our team
.

I finally manage to shake off the stunned inability to speak as I look back up at him.

“You do know that I’m more than just a talent scout for Houston, right? I mean, it’s
my
team; I’m a partial owner alongside my father.”

Landon nods, his lips going thin.

“It’s your team who hasn’t even come close to a playoff game in seven years.” I start to scowl, but he puts his hands up, shaking his head. “Again, no offense. Just being honest. But even
with
that, London, we’re prepared to compensate you handsomely for your signing your share of the team back to your father in order to come to Denver.”

He looks at me plaintively.

“
Handsomely
,” he says again, rubbing his thumb across his fingers as if to demonstrate.

This is insane.

This is crazy, not to mention the fact that I feel like the world’s shittiest daughter even
having
this conversation with my dad in the hospital. He’s recovering from a damn heart attack, and depending on me to take over for him as head of his organization, and here I am talking deals with the enemy.

I quickly shake my head as I start to stand.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything left for us to discuss-”

“I do my homework too, London,” Landon says quietly. “I know about your father’s recent medical scare, I know about his wishes to put you in charge of the Bulls, and I know that instead of voting in favor of those clear wishes, your board
adjourned
to ‘think it over’.”

He shrugs his shoulders, making a tsking sound.

“Still sure that’s ‘your team’, or even an environment that supports and values you? Do they have any idea that they’ve got the toughest, best, most focused contract negotiator in the league? Not to mention the sharpest talent scout anyone’s seen in decades?”

I glare at him.

“Uh,
yeah
, my father knows exactly what I’m capable of-”

“Not your father, London,” he says. “I’m talking about the board - the one’s that didn’t
jump
at the chance to have you in charge of things.”

My mouth goes small as I swallow the lump in my throat.

Landon gestures to the chair I’ve just stood from.

“Please, sit. Look, I
get
it; the family and team connections.” He smiles. “Samuel Horn is my uncle, actually.”

My brows shoot up.

“Your
uncle
is the owner of the Rattlesnakes?”

He nods.

“Have a seat, please. Just listen to my offer. No strings attached, and no pressure. Just hear me out.”

I take a deep breath, the words “traitor” and “deserter” floating through my head.

Landon seems to read my thoughts.

“Believe me, no father would be upset with you for looking into what’s best for your own career and future. Just give me one dinner to tell you a little about our program and our plans for you, okay?”

I swallow again, my finger tapping at the back of the chair for another second before finally, I give in.

I sit.

The waiter arrives back with Landon’s glass of champagne, and he raises it towards me.

“Let me tell you what your future looks like, London.”