Home Field Advantage

by Liz Lincoln

  Besides their food and sex routine, they’d fallen into another routine that Natalie hadn’t expected. And she didn’t know what to do with it. He often came to her place straight from practice, and after they’d satisfied themselves nutritionally and hormonally, he lingered, sitting next to her on the couch as she wrote and he studied his playbook or watched video with his earbuds on. At first they started out not touching, but by now she often leaned against him as she typed, or rested her feet on his lap.

  It was yet another thing that made her feel like maybe they were almost a real couple. Booty calls didn’t hang out and work together.

  It reminded her of college when they had studied together. Even before they dated, they often got together to do homework.

  She wasn’t sure what she thought about the development. She was absolutely thrilled with the arrangement they had, the sex, and even the food. But Quinn as her boyfriend? They’d done that once, and she wasn’t sure she could survive losing him a second time. He probably wouldn’t believe her, but walking out of his house that night had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life.

  And sure, he’d gotten his shit together. He no longer got blackout drunk, no longer hung out with his head in the toilet all night. But her dad had gotten sober a few times too. It never lasted. He was still killing himself with booze.

  She wanted to believe that Quinn would be different. He was, after all, a completely different sort of person from her dad. Quinn had never once been mean to her the way her dad was. And her dad had never lasted more than three months before drinking again.

  Still, she just wasn’t sure she could do it again. It was better to keep things between them casual. Maybe friends, but she couldn’t let herself feel anything for him beyond affection.

  * * *

  —

  Quinn was pretty sure there wasn’t a sight sexier in the world than a beautiful woman leaning over the hood of a car using a torque wrench on an engine. He had an urge to walk over to her, yank down her purple leggings, and take her right there.

  That idea floating through his imagination had blood stirring in his groin. They needed to find a way to have sex before she went home, or he might bust something.

  Natalie straightened and brushed her hair off her forehead. His fingers twitched with an urge to smooth her hair for her. Instead he picked up a tool and fiddled with it. He glanced down to see he was holding a monkey wrench. He didn’t actually need it, but he had to do something to keep from reaching for Natalie.

  “So I think if we replace the coolant tank, everything with the engine should be good to go.” Natalie shrugged. “You may want to do a little research online and make sure that’s right. It’s possible I’m missing something. This car isn’t my area of expertise.”

  No, she preferred the forties and fifties cars. Maybe he should get an old fifties roadster that they could fix up together.

  What the hell was he even thinking, planning to buy a car for her? This was just sex. She wasn’t his girlfriend. They’d been down that road before, and losing her had nearly destroyed him. He couldn’t do it again. Maybe they were building some sort of tentative friendship, and obviously they were fucking every chance they got. But he wouldn’t fall in love with her again. He had too much at stake.

  She tossed her wrench into his toolbox and pulled out the band that held her hair in a messy bun. His mouth went dry as she shook it out, golden waves falling over her shoulders and back.

  “Did you want to work on something else tonight?” she asked.

  He intended for them to look at the brakes, get her thoughts on what he needed to replace. But now, half of him wanted to push her up against the side of the car and fuck her. Maybe they could go over to Sweetness and spread out in the back seat like they had in the past.

  Lust gripped him hard, making him tremble. But there was another sensation in there with it, something he didn’t understand. A desire to simply keep talking with her and spending time next to her. If they had sex, once it was over she would go home. The evening would be done. And while he had to be at practice early tomorrow morning and therefore couldn’t stay up late, he didn’t want her to leave yet.

  So he said, “Yeah, if you’ve got time, do you mind looking at the brakes with me?”

  She shrugged. “Guess I shouldn’t have taken this down yet.”

  He watched as she gathered her hair and twisted it back into a bun, securing it with the rubber band. His mom had always worn her hair short, and he was an only child, so he hadn’t really grown up around girls with long hair. Natalie was the only woman who, as an adult, he did spend enough time around to watch her routines. And he found it fascinating. And endlessly sexy. Her hair was gorgeous. He especially loved when it fell around them like a privacy screen when she was on top, riding his cock.

  He needed to stop these trains of thought if they were going to work on his car any further.

  They collected the tools they might need and headed to the back of the car to check out the rear tires and brakes. They each lay down on a rolling creeper and slid under the rear of the car. Natalie came in from the end of the car while Quinn rolled in from the side. She bumped into him gently, then giggled and said, “Whoops, sorry.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. He liked this lighter Natalie that he’d seen more often in the past few weeks. Her improved mood had to have been from something more than just the two of them hooking up. Maybe she’d gotten that promotion she mentioned once, or was assigned a new story she was excited about. He knew her best friend had won her reelection campaign, so perhaps that was it.

  Regardless of the reason, it looked good on her. And maybe that’s why he wanted to spend so much time with her outside of bed. Her cheerfulness was contagious, and a trait he often lacked.

  He’d have to ask about it, maybe tomorrow over dinner. He didn’t feel like bringing work into their conversation today. It was their day off, and they should be allowed to put those things in the back of their heads.

  Besides, if she was truly excited about something and she wanted him to know, wouldn’t she have mentioned it?

  “So, do you see your parents at all over the holidays?” Natalie asked, poking around at the brake line.

  His parents. Speaking of subjects he wasn’t interested in discussing…Quinn twisted, trying to get a better view of the brake pads. They would inevitably need to be replaced, as the car hadn’t been driven in twenty-five years. But he’d still like an idea of what kind of shape they were in.

  “They’re actually coming this weekend. Since I can’t get to Colorado for Christmas or Thanksgiving, and they each only get the actual days of the holiday off, they decided to come to the game on Sunday.”

  And every time he thought about seeing his parents, especially his father, an uneasy pressure built in his chest. The Dragons played an early game on Sunday, and his parents had a late flight back to Colorado. Which meant he was going to be forced to have dinner with them both Saturday and Sunday. He and Meg had devoted his last two sessions to how he would handle the visit.

  “I assume you’re having dinner with them on Saturday?” Natalie asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, letting his unease and frustration into his voice.

  Natalie was quiet for a minute, so he tried to put the conversation out of his head, instead focusing on the absolutely destroyed brake pads. It was hard to tell if he’d have to get new rotors or if they were salvageable. He needed a flashlight.

  Natalie’s hand on the top of his head startled him. But once the shock wore off, he liked the feel of her fingers gently tracing over his scalp, the occasional scrape of her nails making him warm inside.

  “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I know I only met them a few times, but you told me enough about them, and they just seem like assholes.”

  “That they are.” It was a harsh assessment,
but that didn’t make it less true.

  He loved his parents, because they were his parents, and they hadn’t been particularly cruel. He never wanted for anything material. His mom was pleasant enough to be around much of the time. She was a bland person who was really good at being passive-aggressive when it suited her.

  His dad went for straightforward aggressive. Criticizing everything Quinn did, blaming Quinn for everything that went wrong. He would never hurt Natalie by telling her, but his dad believed she was solely responsible for taking down his career, and because she didn’t form opinions of her own, his mom agreed. Yet at the same time he blamed Natalie, his dad loved to remind Quinn how he’d fucked up everything. Besides, dating Natalie in the first place had been Quinn’s decision, so his dad probably thought he was a dipshit for making it.

  From what he could tell, his dad didn’t like him at all. Probably loved him out of an obligation, the way Quinn loved his dad out of obligation, but didn’t like him.

  The pressing dread grew heavier as he lay there thinking. He needed to change the subject.

  “I wish I could go with you,” Natalie said. “You know, act as sort of a buffer. If your dad starts getting out of control, you could signal me and I could bring up some random weird thing to change the subject.”

  He couldn’t help a faint smile. “I appreciate the thought. Unfortunately, my mom has tried that tactic over the years. My dad just plows right over her and keeps on laying into me.”

  “I don’t know how your dad can find things to be disappointed about. Obviously you’ve fucked up in the past, but you’re having an incredible season. And I’m happy to show your father links to the many articles I’ve written about it, not to mention all the statistics I’ve collected in notes for stories that didn’t make it into the final piece.”

  Seeing an opportunity to steer the conversation away from his parents, Quinn jumped on her comment. “So, what, you got a file on your computer that’s just my stats?” Shit. It looked like the shoes on the brakes were shot too. Maybe he should just replace the whole system. If there was one place he never wanted to cut corners, it was the brakes.

  Natalie laughed. Damn, he loved that sound. It chased out some of the dread pressing on his chest, lightened the load just a little.

  “Yeah, I do. But before you go flattering yourself, I have files with stats and other tidbits about almost every player on the team. Not just stats. Gossip. Bits and pieces they’ve told me. Silly things, like naming your goldendoodle after your favorite US senator.”

  He had to laugh at that one. It was pretty funny that Matt had named the dog after a senator. “So will Booker be making an appearance in a future article?”

  Natalie chuckled. “Maybe. I could do a short follow-up to the earlier profile, though Booker did get a mention. This one could be all about man and his dog. Maybe even get a few pictures of Matt with Booker and the girls.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes. “He ever talk about what’s going on with him and Celia?”

  Quinn’s shoulders tensed and he wasn’t in a position to shake out his arms to loosen them. “Nope. I know he doesn’t have a lawyer, says she doesn’t either. So I guess they’re in no hurry to get a divorce. So who knows what the fuck it is.”

  “Covering them last year, they seemed so happy and excited about the babies and so in love. It’s sad to see them both struggling.”

  “Guess it’s hard to predict what’s going to make things fall apart, even when you think they’re going well.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. She’d explained why she left, but that didn’t mean he’d accepted it. She could have talked to him, told him the truth then.

  He felt suddenly claustrophobic under the car with her, so he rolled out from under it and sat up. He wanted a beer. He liked good wine with his Thanksgiving dinner, and he liked beer when he worked on cars. Times like that, he hadn’t drunk to excess. Just one beer, maybe two, to relax and enjoy the flavors as he worked.

  But he knew it was total abstinence or relapse. Even if he kept it under control with one beer while working, he’d convince himself he could then handle one scotch while reviewing the playbook. He could go out with the guys and have two gin and tonics. And it would snowball from there. He knew all that.

  He still really fucking wanted a beer.

  The trill of Natalie’s phone cut into his morose thoughts. A welcome distraction.

  She slid out from under the car and went to the workbench to retrieve it. Slumping back against the table, she groaned. “Ellen. I better take it. We can discuss the brakes when I’m done.” She swiped right, then put the device to her face. “Hey, Ellen. What’s up?”

  Quinn tried not to eavesdrop on her conversation, but she seemed agitated almost right away, and his instinct to protect her kicked in. How could he be annoyed with her about something from eight years ago in one moment and wanting to protect her the next?

  He hauled himself off the floor and went to stand behind her. She bent over the table, leaning on her elbows, making it easy for him to run his hands up and down her back, gently increasing the pressure to work out the tension evident in her muscles.

  At some point, she reached back and squeezed his hip, which he took as a good sign. So he kept going, working his fingers into the many knots in her neck and around her shoulder blades. Tomorrow when he went to her house after practice, he was making foreplay a full body massage. The woman clearly needed it. And unlike him, she didn’t have trainers whose job it was to keep her muscles in top shape.

  “Ellen, I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

  Under his hands, her shoulders tensed. He pressed his thumbs into a pressure point. So tight.

  “I’m working on setting it up, but they’re entering a stretch of road games against difficult opponents. It’s not always easy to find the time. You know that. And none of their contracts say they specifically have to cooperate with me.”

  Quinn could hear her boss’s annoyed voice through the phone, an irritated drone.

  “The stories you want don’t fall under their media obligations and you know it. I have relationships with these guys. You just have to let me work them.”

  He might have imagined it, but he could have sworn her cheeks flushed pink as she said that.

  “I am working as hard as I can to get this profile set up. But I won’t do it without talking to him too. That’s not how I work. I don’t do gotcha pieces.”

  Except that one time…

  Thinking about her article, he was startled by how little it angered him. He’d spent years hating the sight of her face or the sound of her name. Now he couldn’t wait to get her naked so he could get her off at least twice, then join her.

  Life was nuts.

  He couldn’t help himself. He pushed her shirt a little higher so he could press his lips to the small of her back. Her skin was so soft and smooth everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of touching and kissing her.

  She shivered. “Ellen, I really have to go. Since we’re working Thursday, some friends and I are doing our own early Thanksgiving today. You can email me tomorrow if you have any other concerns. But please maybe back off a little. I’m trying my hardest to get it done before the season’s over.”

  Another pause as her boss spoke. Quinn pushed Natalie’s shirt into her armpits, freeing her breasts and allowing him to feast on the beautiful expanse of her back. Her bra marred the perfection, so he fumbled with it until it eventually popped open.

  “I really need to go, Ellen.” Her voice grew the littlest bit breathy.

  He needed to kiss her. In the meantime, he would enjoy what he’d just unwrapped. He slid his hands beneath her and palmed her breasts.

  She took a moment to glare at him over her shoulder. No, she didn’t want to be felt up while talking to her boss?

  Abruptly she sai
d, “I’ll call you in the morning. Bye.” From the sound coming out of the phone, it appeared Natalie had cut Ellen off midsentence and hung up on her.

  After tossing the phone down on the workbench, Natalie turned in his arms and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was wild and hot in an instant, hunger and frustration and probably a dozen other emotions he didn’t want to deal with adding layers to the kiss that could only mean one thing. But it was a thing he couldn’t deal with, not today. All he wanted to focus on was the feel of Natalie’s body pressed so tightly to him, her hips grinding against him, his thigh between hers so she could ride it.

  She wrenched her mouth away to slide it over his stubble until she reached the spot just behind his ear that made him crazy. He couldn’t wait a second longer, not when she sucked on him right there.

  He yanked her shirt over her head, taking the bra with it. They swooshed to the floor. She immediately attacked his shirt, discarding it on the floor next to hers. And instead of bringing her mouth back to his, she went to work tracing the ridges of his abdomen with her tongue.

  “You have the best chest,” she said as she worked her way slowly up it.

  How did one respond to that sort of compliment? He wasn’t comfortable receiving them in the best of circumstances. Even when delivered by a woman in front of him practically on her knees, licking her way up and around his abdomen. She traced lines and paused for open-mouthed kisses all over his torso. And he stood there and took it, groaning, coming close to panting. It was so good.

  He shuddered as her fingers teased his sides, just above his waistband, and her tongue did delicious things as she worked her way up his chest.

  “That first day I saw you again, in the locker room at training camp, I could barely listen to what you were saying to the other reporters’ questions,” she admitted, her words muffled by his chest.