Home Field Advantage

by Liz Lincoln

  He probably needed to do the gracious-host thing. “These are my parents, Ken and Sylvia Lowry. Mom, Dad, Ryan Dennis works with the Scorpions.”

  Ken looked Ryan up and down and didn’t offer a hand. “The Scorpions,” he said, a sneer in his voice. “The team who kicked my son out of the league.”

  Yeah, because that was exactly how it had happened. His dad loved to use the phrase kicked out, no matter how many times Quinn corrected him. He’d given up.

  “I’m the team photographer, so I don’t really have a hand in personnel decisions.” Ryan cast Natalie a look that seemed to ask, Who the hell is this guy?

  “And you remember Natalie Griffith.” Quinn braced himself, able to anticipate their reaction. To say they disliked Natalie was like saying World War II was a minor disagreement.

  His mom’s lips pulled together in a puckered sneer that looked like she’d sucked on a lemon that also insulted her. “Of course we remember the woman who destroyed your career. After breaking your heart.” She stared Natalie down as she spoke.

  Natalie’s back straightened. To her credit, she held Sylvia’s gaze, unintimidated. “So nice to see you again, Sylvia.”

  “I believe you mean ‘Mrs. Lowry.’ You don’t get to use my first name. Not after what you’ve done to my son.”

  Quinn closed his eyes and sighed. He dug deep—really fucking deep—for his reserves of calm. For all their talk of him needing to solve his own problems, take responsibility, blah blah blah, they loved to put blame on other people. His two years out of the league were Natalie’s fault. The Scorpions’ fault for not seeing his talent. The other wide receivers’ faults for showing him up, his coaches’ fault for not maximizing his potential, his former agent’s fault for not securing a deal. Ken and Sylvia could find plenty of reasons to criticize Quinn and in the same breath blame everyone else for any hardship he had endured.

  “Just wanted to say good luck tomorrow.” Ryan inclined his head toward Quinn. “May the best team win. I’m just here to get good shots.”

  Quinn forced a smile. “Good to see you.”

  “And I guess I’ll see you…tomorrow?” Natalie said.

  He understood her unspoken question. Would they be able to find time to sneak off to fool around like horny teenagers before he had to be in his hotel room for his nine o’clock curfew?

  He nodded subtly, giving her a regretful book. After this dinner, he definitely could use some sexual release. But by the time they finished eating and he got his parents back to their hotel, it would inevitably be too late to spend time with Natalie. “Tomorrow. Have a good night.”

  He really wished she were having a good night with him.

  Quinn resumed his seat, wishing he were leaving with Ryan and Natalie rather than staying with his parents. Instead, he focused on eating his food as quickly as possible so they could get the hell out of there. Then at least he could go back to the hotel and hang with Matt for the night. Matt’s girls liked when Quinn got on the video chat with their dad. Ava squealed and giggled at him, while Zoe made her happy noise. He liked being their Uncle Quinn.

  “I don’t like her,” Ken declared halfway through the meal.

  No shit, really?

  Quinn ignored his dad and continued eating.

  “She was never good enough for you,” Sylvia said. “The way she just threw you aside in college. You deserve a woman who knows exactly what she has in you.”

  It was neat how his parents could go on and on about all his flaws, then turn around and say he was too good for someone. Showed how little they thought of Natalie.

  If anything, she was too good for him. By a long shot.

  “That damn article of hers,” Ken said. He didn’t expand on his thought, but he didn’t need to. Quinn had heard it all before. Like all the other factors, Natalie’s article had ruined his career.

  Sylvia shook her head. “It’s just sad these days, that women think they need to be so cold. So ruthless. Printing all those lies just to get ahead in her career.”

  Hold up. Lies? That was a new addition to their rant. Yes, what Natalie put in her article had been very damaging. It had also been public record and 100 percent true. She’d simply been the one to compile it all into one place.

  Anger surging up through him, Quinn threw his fork down on his plate with more force than he probably should. But, dammit, they were really fucking pissing him off. “You know what? You both need to shut the hell up. Natalie was doing her job. And there wasn’t a single lie in that article, Mom. You know that. You know who was responsible for stalling my career for two years? It wasn’t the Scorpions, it wasn’t my teammates, it wasn’t my coaches, it wasn’t Natalie, it wasn’t anyone else. It. Was. Me. And I think you fucking know that.”

  “Don’t you use that language with us,” his dad growled.

  “I’ll use whatever fucking language I want. It’s a lot less offensive than the way you just treated my friends. People I care about.” Later, he needed to come back and think about the implications of the words he’d just said. But he didn’t have time for that right now.

  Appetite gone, he pushed his chair back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom. And when I come back, you damn well better start treating me with some respect. And that starts with not insulting my friends.”

  He forced himself to walk through the restaurant with a calm he didn’t feel. He kept his gaze cast down, not wanting to make eye contact with a fan and get stopped to chat. Normally he enjoyed that part of his job, but he didn’t have it in him at the moment.

  Instead of heading for the men’s room, he pushed through the front doors and out into the chilly late-November night. Tomorrow was December first. The last five games of the regular season. The Dragons were almost guaranteed a playoff spot but that didn’t mean they could coast for the rest of their games. They were playing for seeding. Plus it wasn’t in any of their natures to slack. They got to the NFL partly because they were thirsty for the win, more than anyone else.

  Speaking of thirsty, of wanting, Quinn pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened a text message to Natalie. He still wasn’t ready to contemplate the truth of his words when he said he cared about her. He knew at an elemental level that it was, in fact, the truth. But tonight he couldn’t think about what it meant, or its implications for their sex-only arrangement.

  Tonight, he just needed her.

  * * *

  —

  Natalie shivered outside the side door to the hotel, rubbing her hands together as she watched Quinn coming down the hall toward her. He’d changed out of his dress clothes and into sweatpants and a T-shirt. The baggy clothes should have made him shapeless, but it was impossible to hide all those muscles. Especially when she knew every detail of what was under there.

  He pushed open the door and she hurried inside. Without even looking at his face, she could feel the tension radiating off him.

  “Dinner went that well?”

  In answer, his big, warm hands cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

  “Tell me if I should stop,” he murmured into her mouth.

  Her gloved fingers dug into his sides. “Don’t stop.”

  That was all it took before he backed her against the wall and kissed her in earnest. His big, hard body pressed against her, lining up with her everywhere she needed him. And from his desperate movements, she suspected he needed her even more. He’d admitted as much when he texted her earlier.

  Quinn: My hotel. 8:00.

  Quinn: Please. I need you.

  One of his hands skimmed down her side and gripped her hip. The other gathered her hair and wrapped it around his fist. She loved when he did that. It made her wet and needy and desperate to have him.

  But they shouldn’t be doing this here. Yes, they were at the end of the hallway in a far-off wing of the h
otel. But still. They were effectively in public. And his entire team was in the hotel.

  Much though she hated it, she pulled her mouth from his and turned her head to the side. He immediately trailed his lips and tongue down her throat, making her shudder.

  “We need…to go…” She didn’t have enough breath to finish the thought.

  “I know,” he said into her neck.

  “Matt’s in your room?”

  “Yep. Can’t in your truck.” They’d tried hooking up there before, both back in college and again recently. But he was simply too big a man to make it feasible in the confined space.

  An idea popped into her head. It wasn’t perfect—in fact, it was risky—but that sort of made it exciting. “Stairwell.”

  He stilled for a moment, lips resting over the pulse pounding in her throat. “If we go up a few floors, stay in this back hallway, yeah, that should work.”

  Someday they needed to discuss the ridiculous situation of grown adults having to sneak around to find a place to have sex because he had a curfew. But today was not that day. Because today they were doing the actual sneaking.

  He gave her another firm kiss on the lips. Then pulled back, releasing her hair. He took her hand and led her toward the door that accessed the stairs. He walked so quickly, his long legs eating up the space, she had to jog to keep up. She laughed awkwardly, a secret thrill going through her that he was this desperate for her.

  Inside the concrete stairwell, the door slammed shut with an echoing bang.

  Quinn paused. “Shit, that better not lock. I can just see trying to explain to Coach that no, really, I was back in time for curfew, I was just locked in the stairwell because I was making out with you.”

  “Probably wouldn’t do wonders for my reputation if I vouched for you in this case.”

  His face grew serious and he watched her for a long moment. Long enough that she finally asked, “What?”

  He shook his head, as if shaking off thoughts. “Nothing. Come on.” He squeezed her hand and led her up four flights of stairs.

  “You think we’re good here?”

  She removed her gloves and shoved them in her coat pocket, then unzipped her coat. “As good as any other floor.”

  As he watched her shrug out of her coat and drop it on the floor next to them, his eyes grew more and more heated. His voice was practically a growl when he held out his hand and said, “Come here.”

  She went willingly. Gladly. And instead of devouring her with another wild kiss, Quinn pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and settled his cheek against her hair. Something inside her broke open, something she couldn’t identify immediately and didn’t want to dwell on. So she simply wrapped her arms around him in return and held on.

  Chapter 20

  Christmas fell on a Wednesday, which left Christmas Eve on the Dragons’ usual day off of Tuesday. Since neither Natalie nor Quinn was spending the holiday with their families, it seemed natural to spend it together.

  Natalie was trying desperately not to read into their spending so much time together, but every day she struggled more. Most of the time she was able to keep herself from thinking about it, but sometimes the thought crept in, unwelcome, and she couldn’t deny it.

  She was falling for him. Hard.

  Again. And she would undoubtedly get her heart broken again. He probably wouldn’t believe her, but leaving him had broken her heart. Watching him self-destruct on a national stage had done it again. But, hey, third time was a charm, as the saying went.

  “Pretty sure Matt needs to become some kind of celebrity chef when he’s done with football.” Quinn set down his fork on his empty plate. “That’s the best apple pie I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “He really does have a talent for it,” Natalie agreed. Matt had made Christmas Eve dinner to take to his old house to eat with Celia and the girls. He hadn’t offered an explanation for why he’d cooked at this house, nor had Natalie or Quinn asked. They were just glad he’d made enough for the two of them.

  And since Matt had left a little after noon, Natalie and Quinn spent almost the entire day lounging around together. Having sex, sure, but also hanging out. As had become more and more their pattern.

  It was reminiscent of how they’d been together in college, which both terrified and thrilled Natalie.

  She was in so much trouble.

  She needed a little break from their intimacy. So she got up from the couch and headed for the dining room, where she’d left her bag on a chair. “I should check my email.”

  “Come on, if I can actually take the day off, you can too. I’m supposed to be getting myself in playoff shape.” He twisted around to look at her, giving her that cheeky half smile that instantly made her wet, her nipples hard, and everything inside her soft.

  “I know you think Crosby works you guys hard, but he’s got nothing on Ellen.” She pulled her laptop out of her bag, along with her notebook and pen. She returned to the couch and settled in again, leaving just a little more space between her and Quinn than had been there before. She could play it off as needing more room for her laptop, needing some elbow room to type. But really, that space was for her heart.

  “There’s not even a game I can watch,” Quinn complained good-naturedly. “I guess if you’re working, I’ll grab my playbook. If we’re gonna get that top seeding, I better be overprepared for the Vipers’ defense.”

  Natalie paused in opening various windows so she could appreciate his cute ass as he walked out of the room. Even in loose-fitting sweatpants, the man had cheeks that wouldn’t quit.

  She didn’t actually have any writing she needed to do today. It had just been an excuse. But she might as well check her email. Knowing Ellen, she would take twenty minutes to eat dinner with extended family tonight, but otherwise not stop working.

  Sure enough, Natalie had one original and three forwarded emails from Ellen. Two of the forwards had to do with end-of-the-year business she needed to address with human resources. Stuff she couldn’t take care of until Thursday anyway since the offices were officially closed. HR actually got time off.

  The last forward was an article that had appeared on a gossip website’s sports section, a detailed profile of a player’s wedding and honeymoon. Ellen had added the message “This is what we were going for. In the future, let’s not get scooped by these guys.”

  Irritation flashed over Natalie’s skin. Never mind that it wasn’t actually getting scooped when the story was about a completely different football player. It was a site she wouldn’t consider a competitor since they mostly covered Hollywood and the royal family.

  This was what she got for checking her work email on a holiday. But since she’d already thrown herself into the deep end and was already annoyed, she might as well read Ellen’s other email.

  It started with “Where the hell is my Quinn Lowry profile?” At least Ellen didn’t beat around the bush about what she wanted. As if there’d been any doubt. She went on to rant that there was only one game left in the season, and still no story about Quinn’s comeback. She was mad other outlets had written stories about it, though she conveniently overlooked that none of them were broad, long-form profile pieces like she was asking for. They simply talked about statistics and how he had done coming back after two years out.

  Because Natalie spent so much time with Quinn, she knew those reporters hadn’t gotten more than a few quotes and comments from him. No one had sat down with him and thoroughly interviewed him.

  She wanted to scream at her laptop or throw it into the fireplace. But that would only scare Booker, who napped in front of the hearth, and require her to get a new laptop.

  So she sat staring at her screen, trying to calm down enough to formulate a response.

  Quinn’s footfalls on the stairs pulled her out of her head. He stopped on the bottom st
ep when he saw her. “What’s up?”

  “Just a frustrating email from my boss. Trying to come up with a response that isn’t ‘fuck off.’ ”

  He dropped down on the couch next to her and leaned over to kiss her temple. A casual, familiar gesture of affection. Natalie’s heart squeezed.

  “Sorry she’s being a jerk.”

  His simple kindness warmed her so much, she smiled despite her crabby mood. “It’s not a big deal. We all have work frustration.”

  It occurred to her that when he leaned over, it would only take one glance at her laptop for him to realize the email was about him. Inevitably his name would jump out at him. And while there was no real reason to keep it a secret—covering the team and its players was, after all, her job—she wasn’t comfortable with him knowing her boss wanted her to do another profile piece on him.

  She shifted on the couch, leaning back against the arm and stretching her legs out along the cushion. Her feet rested in Quinn’s lap. He probably took it as a flirtatious gesture, and it was in part, but it also served to ensure he couldn’t look over and see her email.

  After twenty minutes of hair pulling, cursing at her laptop, growling at her laptop, and massaging her temples, Natalie finally sent her reply. She told Ellen she thought a story about Quinn’s comeback including a playoff run would be more powerful and distinguish her piece from the others that had already run. “Just working out a few details with Lowry,” she lied.

  Blarg, she hated lying. To Ellen, to Quinn, to anyone. To Quinn most of all, though she wasn’t exactly lying to him so much as minimizing. At some point with Ellen, she would either have to refuse to do the article or she would have to find a way to get Quinn to agree to it.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” He absently rubbed her leg, his hand sliding from her ankle to her calf and back again.

  She shut her laptop and set it on the coffee table. “She wants me to write so many fluff pieces. I didn’t get in to sports writing so I could write about where players go for their honeymoons. There’s nothing wrong with people writing those stories, but I don’t want to be the one doing it.”