Home Field Advantage

by Liz Lincoln

  But she didn’t call his bullshit. Not today. He didn’t need it. Maybe Reporter Natalie should have, but the Natalie who’d once loved him couldn’t make herself. “Good. You’ll be great today.”

  He studied her again, his hazel eyes holding hers, searching. Finally the corners of his lips turned up in a ghost of a smile. “Thanks.”

  “You better get in the locker room, get suited up and do whatever your pregame ritual is.” And she needed to get upstairs. Except she didn’t want to. For at least this moment, they seemed to have reached a truce, and she wanted it to last as long as it could. She knew better than to think it was permanent.

  “Yeah, pregame rit—” He seemed to choke on the word, then coughed as his face turned red.

  What was that about? Except as his eyes darkened, suddenly she knew why he’d broken off. And her face flushed as hot as his was bright.

  When they were dating, before every home game she’d awaken him with a blow job. “To help you really relax and clear your mind,” she always told him after he’d come down her throat. He’d admitted once that she was so good with her mouth, he didn’t need his usual vodka shots before he left for the stadium.

  Today he damn well better not be drinking before the game. Which meant…

  She caught him staring at her mouth, and it started to water. Which was so wrong. She could not go down this mental path. “I need to go. Get up to the press box, get to work.”

  Before she finished talking, he said, “Yeah, I gotta go too. See ya.” He turned and practically sprinted for the tunnel.

  She needed to use the same tunnel but she waited until he disappeared before starting off. She walked slowly, needing every second she could get to calm her pounding heart and erase the images of his body stretched beneath her as she licked him like her favorite ice cream cone. She needed to figure out a way to give herself some sort of sex-with-Quinn amnesia.

  She couldn’t take the memories much longer.

  Chapter 4

  It took about seven seconds of watching Matt Baxter with his daughters to see he loved them to distraction. A grin stretched Natalie’s cheeks as she watched the quarterback lying on his back on his rec room floor, holding his daughter Zoe in the air above him. Her smile was nearly as big as her father’s as he lowered her toward him, blew a raspberry on her cheek, then lifted her back up.

  Holding herself up on the edge of the couch next to Natalie’s legs, Zoe’s twin sister Ava giggled and shrieked and bounced her own excitement.

  Natalie was utterly charmed.

  At the same time, she felt the familiar tug of her heart. She’d always wanted a family like this, a parent who enjoyed spending time with her. Even before she left, Natalie’s mother hadn’t been warm. The few memories Natalie had were of a distant woman who was always too stressed to find affection for her kids. And her dad had only shown affection for alcohol.

  Still, it wasn’t like Matt’s family was perfect. He and his wife had separated a few months ago. Zoe had recently been diagnosed with cerebral palsy, related to the twins being born prematurely.

  But as Natalie observed the little family, none of that stress was apparent. All she saw was love and affection and joy. None of those were words she’d associate with the house she’d grown up in.

  Ava worked her way along the edge of the couch, not old enough to walk on her own yet. When she reached Quinn’s leg, she patted his knee and made a sound that was probably a word in her baby mind.

  Quinn’s face broke into a smile so wide it highlighted the deep creases around his eyes. The ones that never failed to make Natalie’s stomach tilt a little off-kilter. He scooped the baby up under her arms and swung her to settle on his lap.

  “What’s up, sweet thing? You need some attention too?”

  Ava clapped, beaming up at him like he’d hung the moon. He had the same expression as he looked at her.

  Natalie had to remind herself not to be jealous of a nine-month-old.

  Matt had invited her to dinner to get to know his girls before she officially started her two weeks of shadowing him to write her long-form profile. He wanted them to get comfortable around her and her to get comfortable with Zoe’s disability.

  He’d told her a little about the more technical medical aspects of cerebral palsy as they ate the sushi takeout he’d gotten. Most of it went over her head, so she’d have to do more research on CP before she wrote her article. If Matt even wanted her to include the information about Zoe. They needed to establish parameters, sort out what was and wasn’t fair game.

  “So, Matt. Let’s talk a little bit about the article.” She leaned forward to pull her journal out of the bag she’d set at her feet. The blue notebook—she’d been thrilled when she found one in almost the Dragons’ exact shade—was part diary, part brainstorming dump, part planner. She thought of it as an extension of her brain, like an external hard drive. If she lost it, she’d be SOL.

  When she sat back again on the couch, she felt like she was being watched. She turned, expecting to catch Quinn’s gaze. Instead, Ava bounced on his knee, made a happy noise, and dove forward, launching herself over Quinn’s other leg toward Natalie.

  On pure reflex, Natalie reached for her, afraid the little girl would fly off the couch. Quinn had the same reaction and because he was closer, he caught Ava around the waist. As he stood, lifting her, she kicked her legs and clapped like it was all a game.

  Ava may have enjoyed it, but Natalie’s heart pounded, the momentary panic still making her blood pump too quickly. This was one of the many reasons she was almost certain she didn’t want kids. She couldn’t handle the emotional roller coaster. Her stepbrothers had been two and four when they first moved in with her family and she’d been left to watch them frequently. She’d hated every minute of it. Her longing for a loving family didn’t translate to wanting to build one of her own.

  Matt sat up and settled Zoe on her back on a quilt with fabric-covered arches over it, brightly colored toys dangling over the baby’s face. She reached up for a purple dog, her arm stiff, little hand closed tightly in a fist. Natalie was pretty sure Matt had described that as muscle spasticity. She jotted the term down in her notebook, then wrote research and underlined it several times.

  “Yeah, the article.” Matt sat cross-legged, absently tapping one of the animals to make it swing for Zoe. “What do you need?”

  “Mostly, I want to know parameters. That’ll help me better plan the two weeks when I’m shadowing you. And I can come up with questions to ask.” She had some ideas, but she wanted his input. She’d done a similar story last year on linebacker Lemalu Feu’u, and he and his wife both mentioned repeatedly how much they liked her collaborative approach to the profile.

  “Absolutely. I’m a pretty open guy, so not a lot’s off limits, I’d say. Can’t give away trade secrets or anything.” He flashed his signature boyish smile and even winked.

  She rolled her eyes, eliciting a laugh from him.

  Natalie’s gaze caught on Quinn as he frowned over at them. As happened every time their eyes connected, a shimmer of awareness moved through her chest. She couldn’t look away and, it seemed, neither could he.

  Then Ava shoved a stuffed panda into his hands and the moment was gone before it really had a chance to materialize.

  Natalie mentally shook herself and looked down at the journal in her lap as if all the answers were written on the page. Parameters, Nat. Focus.

  “OK, so, you’re, um…” Dammit, she was sucking as an interviewer today. “Right, parameters.” Get your shit together, girl.

  “You OK?”

  “Yeah. What I wanted to ask is, in terms of your personal life, what’s fair game, what’s off limits?” Yes, that’s what she wanted to ask. She couldn’t let herself keep getting so thoroughly distracted by Quinn. “We talked about including the Baxter Center research and
how that relates to your brother.”

  It was a well-known story to Dragons fans, but not as familiar to the wider football audience; Natalie intended to change that. When Matt was in college, his older brother had sustained a brain injury that caused physical and cognitive damage. The previous season, Matt had joined forces with a nonprofit to open a research foundation dedicated to brain injury research. Celia, his estranged wife, was executive director of the Baxter Center for TBI Research.

  That had to make things hella complicated.

  “What about Celia and the girls?” Natalie asked.

  Matt’s jaw tightened and his expression shuttered. “What about them?”

  Her interviewer’s instinct had her sliding to the floor and scooting to join him next to Zoe. She looked down at the little girl’s shining brown eyes, watching her jerky movements as she batted at a green elephant.

  “Good job, ZoZo,” Matt said in a distinctly dad voice, softer and brighter than his usual voice.

  “Obviously there are nosy fans out there who want to know every last detail of your personal life,” she said.

  It was incredible how quickly his tension fled as soon as he started playing with his daughter. His stiff spine relaxed.

  Her gaze flicked over to Quinn, teasing Ava with the panda, making her giggle. He looked relaxed too, none of the awkward discomfort he usually had around Natalie evident. For a moment, he looked like the old Quinn, the guy she’d been friends with long before they ever fell in love.

  She missed that.

  The realization hit her hard, stealing her breath. She’d never actually admitted it to herself, but more than the loss of the man she’d loved, she missed her friend. The guy she worked on cars with, watched movies with, talked with about anything.

  She shook herself out of her memories. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about college. She should be talking to Matt.

  When she turned her attention back to him, he was giving her a strange look, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You looked lost for a second.”

  “Sorry. Occupational hazard. I start thinking about what I’m going to write.” It wasn’t a lie; she did do that quite often. Just not this time. “Anyway, Celia and the girls.”

  Matt pulled on the back of his neck and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want stuff about me and Cee in there. That’s our business.”

  “Totally fair.” Natalie wrote that down. She wasn’t likely to forget, but just in case.

  “I’m OK with having a little about the girls, and about Zoe’s CP. But let me talk to Cee, make sure she doesn’t mind. She tends to be more private than I am.”

  “Absolutely. And I promise, it wouldn’t be anything invasive or exploitative. I’m not writing some gotcha gossip piece.” She gave him her best reassuring smile. “But you probably have fans going through similar things. Sometimes it helps to know they’re not alone. That even NFL stars hit snags.”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good point. Plus, we can show everyone how great you are, right, ZoZo?” He tickled her belly, causing her to arch her back and give him a gummy grin.

  * * *

  —

  When Ava turned those big brown eyes and her drooly grin on him, Quinn was powerless to resist. It was a good thing she was still a baby and couldn’t ask him for things, because he probably would have bought her a yacht if she wanted one.

  Two months ago, he would have sworn he’d never play peekaboo. Yet here he was, on round eleven or twelve, keeping at it just to get another chance to hear one of those great baby giggles.

  He’d once thought the greatest sound on earth was the roar of a crowd as he made a great catch. But that was now tied with the sound of Ava’s and Zoe’s giggles. It was almost enough to make him think maybe someday he’d want kids. Except he’d be a shitty father. He was too selfish. Still, he didn’t mind other people’s kids as much as he used to. Which was a good thing since Matt’s girls spent so much time at their house.

  Quinn looked across the room, just in time to see Natalie lean over Zoe to tickle her belly. Natalie’s blond hair slid like water over a fall and Zoe made a throaty noise that he’d learned was a happy noise. She wasn’t as verbal as her twin, but after even the small amount of time he’d spent around her, he was figuring out the general meaning behind most of her sounds.

  Seeing Natalie with a baby sent him back to college for a moment. One of his teammates had a son, and Quinn and Natalie had hung out with the player, his girlfriend, and the baby a few times. He’d loved watching her with that boy and imagining the future they’d have, their own kids.

  Probably for the best they hadn’t worked out. She’d be a great mom and any kid deserved a better dad than him.

  But, fool that he’d been, he’d dreamed of that perfect future with Natalie. He’d actually looked at rings online, picked the one he’d buy her as a Christmas present that year. They’d get engaged, he’d be drafted in the spring, and they’d get married after graduation, before he had to report to rookie camp. She could get a job covering his team, or a remote job covering a wider scope. Back then he’d thought three kids would be perfect.

  Back then he’d been a fucking dumbass.

  Good thing he never bought the ring. A month later, she’d left him in the middle of the night with no explanation. So much for happily ever after.

  A panda landing in his lap jerked Quinn out of the anger-inducing memories. Ava launched herself onto him and he absently rubbed her tiny back, but it didn’t soothe the discomfort his thoughts had stirred up.

  As if pulled by a magnet, his gaze sought out Natalie. Now she was listening to a story Matt was telling, while swinging an orange lion in Zoe’s face. Zoe swatted it with her fist. Natalie laughed and Quinn’s chest ached.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t need to be here anyway. This was about the article on Matt, which he was no part of. He’d only hung around because he loved sushi, then it seemed natural to come downstairs with the rest of them.

  He had to get out of there.

  Quinn scooped up Ava and her panda, took her over to Matt and Natalie, and set her on the floor next to her sister. Deliberately avoiding Natalie, he looked at Matt as he said, “I gotta do some stuff. I’ll see you guys later.”

  As hard as he tried, Quinn couldn’t help seeing Natalie straighten and toss her mass of waves over her shoulder. Awareness prickled through him, which only fed his annoyance. How fucked up was he, still attracted to the woman who’d screwed him over? Twice.

  He stalked toward the stairs, not bothering to say goodbye to Natalie. Rude, yes, but so what? They weren’t friends.

  Still, he could feel her eyes on him as he clomped up the steps.

  * * *

  —

  Quinn loved cars. He loved the predictable way their parts fit together, the way he could always count on an engine to be an engine, a transmission to be a transmission, and so forth. Even the most high-tech, complex cars had a simplicity to them that he appreciated.

  Aside from on a football field, there was nowhere he felt more at ease than under the hood of a car.

  His latest project was a gorgeous specimen. A red 1973 Porsche 911S, manual transmission, convertible top. When he bought it two months ago for five hundred bucks, it had been a piece of shit. Body, interior, and mechanics all in disrepair. Now he’d smoothed all the dents, replaced the rear bumper, gotten new upholstery, and repainted the fading red so it shone brightly. He’d added air-conditioning and replaced the eight-track player with a modern stereo that played CDs and had a Bluetooth connection for external music.

  Now he was working under the hood. The engine needed enough work that he was considering replacing it. But he hadn’t had time to price out the cost. The exhaust system needed replacing and he had new brake pads and ro
tors to install, but first, he was focused on the mechanics under the hood.

  And he was stuck. He knew the alternator wasn’t working. But he was running out of ideas for how to fix it.

  Maybe he should give up working for tonight, head up to his room, and search around for a new engine. If he were really smart, he’d be reviewing his playbook and going over film from yesterday’s game. Tomorrow was his day off; he’d have plenty of time to work on the car then.

  On the other hand, tomorrow was Tuesday. He had his entire day off to go over film. He should do the review with Matt anyway, since all Quinn’s plays also involved the quarterback. And Matt watched more game film than any player Quinn had ever met.

  He walked across the garage to the workbench he’d set up in the corner. It was a three-and-a-half-car garage, and he and Matt each only had one car. It was yet another reason Matt’s offer to live with him had been attractive. He’d set up a mini car shop and it was his sanctuary. Not that he needed one very often, living with Matt.

  But he sure as hell did tonight. What the fuck was he doing, letting himself go down the branch of memory lane where he’d been ready to make Natalie his wife?

  A sensation rippled through his chest, an emotion he couldn’t name. Fear, avoidance, disappointment, need, all of those and yet not quite any of them. He simply couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, but it left him uneasy. His first, automatic thought was to get a drink, take the edge off. Fortunately he was strong enough to reject the idea.

  Maybe he should call his therapist and check in. But he had an appointment tomorrow, so he could bring it up then.

  He opened his laptop and clicked into his web browser. He’d look at solutions to his engine’s problem now, then if the feelings were still overwhelming him after, he’d call.

  His search led him down a rabbit hole of message boards, but half an hour later, he had a potential idea. So he went back to that sweet, sweet car and buried himself under the hood.