Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance (18 page)

Doc leaves, and Coach pats me on the shoulder. “You showed some guts out there. Get your rest, and on the plane ride home, open seating for everyone. No need to be a dick when we played hard.”

His news gives me at least a little bit of reassurance, and when I come out I see that April's already heard. She gives me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “I know the team lost, but I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks. Doc says my hand should be good by next Saturday,” I reassure her, kissing the top of her head. “And Coach says we've got open seating on the plane back. The benefits of charter flights.”

“That's true. You know, you surprised a few folks out there today. Some of the people around me were commenting that you're playing tough.”

I laugh. “Yeah, the surfer look and what I did at Western isn't exactly good for a tough guy image.”

“What do you mean?” April asks, and I entwine my fingers with her as we head toward the buses to the airport.

“I had the rep of being a pretty boy,” I admit with a little chuckle. “I had a chance to be the starter as a sophomore, but took a hit that really knocked the hell outta me, broke a bone in my foot too. Instead of toughing it out, I took Coach's advice and took a redshirt year instead, and started my last two years. Unfortunately the team didn't do a good job of explaining to the press just how much the damn thing hurt, so instead of it being labeled one of those freak breaks, I picked up the rep of being a wimp. It didn't help that Coach Bainridge at Western insisted that all quarterbacks slide instead of take hits head on, and that I had fucking Iron Man Duncan Hart playing with me. That guy is one tough SOB.”

“You've talked about him a lot. You guys keep in touch?”

“Just emails right now. He's playing for Jacksonville, they're in season too. He's got his hands full, but if you want, we can try and set up a Skype call.”

April shrugs. “No rush. So regardless of the rep, what led to your change of style?”

I pull her close and whisper in her ear. “Finding the love of my life. Gives me a tender heart, but makes my body a lot tougher.”

“Not too tough, I hope,” April purrs back. “I like soft and tender Tyler too.”

“
G
ood morning April
, how're things going for you?”

I'm in the office, looking forward to the last away game of this leg. We're going to Vancouver, and I've already exchanged emails with Gail, she's going to meet me and sit next to me for the game. It'll be nice to spend some time with an old friend and introduce her to Tyler. But it's not Gail on the phone, it's Connor.

“Hey big guy, I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Very well, thanks. I've got some good news for you and Tyler.”

“Really? Great! Is it about the . . . well . . . you know?”

“No, we're still waiting on results of our motion for a DNA test, for some reason the girls are fighting it,” Connor says, “but on the assault charge. My uncle talked to the Crown Prosecutor, and with the new video that they just received from the traffic camera, they've decided to drop the charges. Tyler's absolved of any wrongdoing in the matter.”

“YES!” I yell, fist pumping the air. The other members of the office look around at me, and Francine, who's in to talk with Mr. L., gives me a look. I wave it off and cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “Tyler's assault charges are getting dropped.”

A small cheer goes around the office, and even Mr. Larroquette sticks his head out of his office to see what's going on. “What happened?”

“Tyler's charges have been dropped,” Francine says, and for the first time I think in days, the man smiles before going back into his office, leaving the door open. He gets on his phone, and I bet he's passing along the good news. For all his pain in the ass habits, he does a good job of spreading good news even faster than bad.

I turn my attention back to Connor, smiling the whole time. “That's the best news I could have gotten. Are you sure?”

“I'm looking at the confirmation letter from the Crown Prosecutor's office right now. Trust me, Tyler's totally in the clear on that. Also, just to let you know, Thomas got himself arrested last night as well, I don't know if that had anything to do with the Crown's decision.”

“Oh? What on?” I ask, only slightly interested. It could be jaywalking for all I care, the man is out of my life for good now.

“Domestic violence. It seems his current girlfriend got tired of his bullshit too. So he's going to be facing at least a year in jail this time. The Crown isn't going to go lightly on a two time loser like him.”

“Good,” I say with just a touch of vehemence. I guess he does still have some effect on me, if he can make me this pissed off. “Can they send him to Yellowknife to do his time?”

Connor laughs, but in understanding. “I doubt it. In any case, I'll keep you updated on the other matter too. We'll see what's going on soon enough.”

Connor hangs up, and I put my phone down, a giant idiotic grin on my face. Francine gives me a high five as she gets ready to leave, her own grin lighting up the room. “I think that means date night, don't you?”

“Damn skippy.”

Francine shakes her head in mock exasperation. “Leave her with Americans long enough, she starts sounding like one of them. Pretty soon she's going to start saying she hates Nickelback.”

“I've always hated Nickelback,” I tell Francine, who reacts with mock horror to the old joke. I really have, just because they're Canadian doesn't mean I have to like them. “Nickelback sucks.”

She crooks a finger at me like some sort of old crone, her voice pitching high and shrill. “Blasphemer! Someone, get the wood! We have to burn the witch!”

Everyone laughs, and for the first time, I feel like I'm joining in with the other people in the office rather than feeling outside it. Tyler's love has unlocked the rest of my fears, and I've let myself out of the cage I've kept myself in for so long.

During the team's lunch break, I find Tyler in the stands, munching on a roast beef sub and a protein shake. “That looks disgusting.”

“It is,” he replies with a laugh, “but I've got a lift after lunch, and Coach Taylor is a big believer in pre-workout loading.”

“Did you hear the good news?” I ask, and Tyler nods. “Damn, I was hoping to be the first one to tell you.”

“That news got around so fast they stopped the video session to tell us,” Tyler says with a laugh.

“So what do you want to do to celebrate?” I ask, smiling. “I had an idea in mind.”

“Oh? What's that?”

“Well, you remember our first date? Not the club, but the one where you wore that awesome suit?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, who could forget you in that dress of yours, and that we didn't kiss, even though we both wanted to.”

“Let's try it again then,” I say, sitting down. “I can get a table somewhere for nine o'clock, we go, create the date we should have had, and then we have the night we should have had.”

Tyler's eyes gleam, and he nods. “You're going to have a busy afternoon then. We don't have a table yet.”

“Leave that to me. After all, am I not also your PA still?”

* * *

W
e're lucky
, it's only Wednesday and the restaurant isn't booked full, so when I call up and ask if Tyler Paulson can book a table for two at nine, the steakhouse is more than ready to accommodate us. It still feels strange to realize that men are looking at me as I walk in wearing my cocktail dress and heels, but this time I'm ready for it, and I give Tyler a look as we make our way toward the best table. “Remind me, next time we should get our meal for free.”

“Oh?” Tyler asks, amused. “And why’s that?”

“Famous pro athlete likes a steakhouse? You may not be a hockey player, but I think that's at least good for a free steak.”

Tyler holds my chair for me again, the perfect gentleman, and comes around to his seat. “Maybe, but I think I want the ribs tonight. What about you?”

“Fish again. I really enjoyed it last time, and we don't cook enough of it at home.”

“I agree,” Tyler says, spreading his napkin into his lap. “I was thinking, maybe this offseason, we can go take some cooking classes. Somebody's gotta have domestic skills courses for guys like me available somewhere in this city.”

I go quiet, looking down, and Tyler grows concerned. “April? What is it?”

“It's just . . . I know you're not trying to be mean, but you keep talking like you're going to stick around Toronto after the season, and not head back to San Diego or Los Angeles or hell, down to Jacksonville with your buddy Duncan. But when I've asked you about it directly, you still talk about going back to States as soon as you can.” I can feel the tears in my eyes, and I blink them away. “It feels like you want to leave this behind, and with my folks . . .”

My voice trails away, and I look down at my plate. “I'm sorry. We haven't even had drinks and I've ruined our date.”

“No you haven't,” Tyler says quietly, reaching over and taking my hand before I can do anything stupid like get up and leave. “You're right, I've been talking out of both sides of my mouth, saying I want to get back to the States while at the same time talking about settling in with you, exploring the fullness of our relationship. It's not fair to you, and you're right, you can't be expected to leave your parents in London while I ask you to go to the States for a long time. Can I ask, is there any chance of . . . well, of your mother changing homes?”

I shake my head, not knowing. There's no question of Dad changing homes, he wouldn't survive at all, not that he has much time left. “I'd have to talk with the doctors. I doubt it though, every time I talk to them they really emphasize that Mom's supposed to have familiar, regular surroundings. She's been at the hospital and in the hospice home for going on two years now, it's the closest thing she still has to a real home. It'd be hard on her, Tyler. And with Daddy . . . she would need time to maybe come to grips with it. If she ever does.”

Tyler nods, and takes a sip of his water. The waiter comes by and asks for our drink selection, and we decide on a bottle of Chenin Blanc that will go with both of our dishes. After the waiter goes, Tyler takes another sip of water and looks at me. “Well, this offseason, I'll stay here in Toronto, keep our apartment, and we'll evaluate things from there. I'm sure the Fighters will appreciate it.”

I tear up again, this time out of happiness rather than sadness, and I'm surprised to be dabbing at my eyes one more time. I didn't go over the top with my eye makeup, I'm no raccoon, but still, black tears down my cheeks is not what I want at all. “Thank you. I don't know where the tears are coming from, but thank you.”

“It's all right,” Tyler says easily. “April, you're more important than working on a winter tan or working on a beach body. I can talk to Coach Taylor over the Net, get with him on what to do, and Toronto's got some good places I can do my workouts. I'm lucky, really. A lot of the guys are going to be going back to part time jobs or other work, I can use the time in between seasons to get ready to play football. Even then though, we're going to have time to be together. I still need to get you a matching set of lucky pink underpants for you to wear on game days.”

I laugh, caught off guard by his joke, and nod, my tears banished for now. “That sounds good, but I thought you liked the green set? I liked your first idea most though, getting some cooking classes in. The idea of you making dinner for me is sexy as hell.”

Tyler's smirk stirs in my belly, and he leans forward, setting his hands on the table. “Well then, I’ll have to find some three star chefs to learn from.”

The waiter comes back with the wine, and pours glasses for both of us. Tyler twirls his glass for a second, then smiles. “To the future.”

“To the future.” Our food comes, and we enjoy the meal more than even the first time.

* * *

W
e walk home
, as I'm feeling up for the short walk after dinner, and my feet feel fine. “Besides,” Tyler promises me as we get started, “when we get home, I'm giving you a foot rub.”

I chuckle and squeeze his arm, leaning slightly against him. “I know your foot rubs. You just want an excuse to have sex.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, his thumb stroking the top of my hand and sending chills up my forearm.

“Not at all, but if you don't stop that thumb, we're going to be having sex in public, and I don't think we want to get arrested again so soon after getting the last set of charges dropped,” I purr, leaning further against him. “That wouldn't be cool. If you wanna go have sex outdoors, we can book a vacation to Hedonism or one of those places in the Dominican Republic.”

“Huh, and I thought T-dot had those sorts of places,” Tyler teases me, causing me to roll my eyes.

“The only idiots who use that phrase are pretentious douchebags,” I remind him.

We spend the rest of the walk home laughing and trading jokes, much better than last time. We pause outside our building, and Tyler pulls me into his arms, his fingers brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Oh no Tyler, we can't,” he softly mocks in a bad falsetto. “We can't.”

“We can,” I answer, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Because sometimes, fantasies do come true.”

We kiss, soft and sweet, our passion there but restrained for now, knowing that upstairs, we're going to go at it for hours before sleep overtakes us. Okay, maybe not hours, he still needs his sleep. He’s got practice tomorrow.

Fantasies can come true.