Goal (Completion #6)

by Holly S. Roberts

  Goal

  Holly S. Roberts

  Goal

  Holly S. Roberts

  A Completion Novel

  Copyright © Holly S. Roberts 2017

  Previously published as: Like a Girl

  Edited by Michelle Kowalski

  Cover by Fantasia Frog Designs

  wickedstorytelling@gmail.com

  http://wickedstorytelling.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be multiplied, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by whatever means. Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the writer.

  This eBook is licensed for your use only.

  This is a work of fiction. ALL characters are derived from the author’s imagination.

  No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.

  Chapter One

  Jordan

  My agent, Larry Modiess, looks up from the papers in his hand and quirks his lips. “It’s a done deal, Jordan—sign, sealed, and delivered. You’re officially a New Mexico Pronghorn, the team with the lousiest record in the pro league.” His hand slams against my back. He looks like he wants to hug me, so I step back and try to act manly. He’s four inches shorter than I am, balding, and outweighs me by a hundred pounds. Think big teddy bear with a backbone of steel when it comes to negotiating sports contracts.

  Larry’s words culminate the longest journey of my life—countless meetings and more sleepless nights than I care to count. The journey isn’t over. There will be more rounds of meetings, situating myself with the team, and dealing with the media. I also need to inform my father that I’ll be moving to New Mexico. We lost my mom two years ago and I’ve been living with him ever since. My plan is to convince him to move in with me in the near future. Doubtful he will but I’ll try.

  Coach Alan from the community college is someone else who needs to know. Without him, this wouldn’t be happening. He gave me a chance and I’ll never forget the risks he took. I have a long line of people I’m grateful for. Alan, my father, and Larry are at the top of the list and then there’s Reg and Laura. They’re my best friends and will have my back no matter what.

  It’s hard not to think about the money too. Plenty of pro kickers have signed better deals than the one I’ve just committed to, but at least I can put a roof over my head along with buying food and clothing.

  I should also thank the league for the new extra-point yardage rule that moved the ball to the fifteen yard line for field goals and the twenty-five yard line on touchbacks. Kickers who can score with the new rules are in high demand and that’s why the league is giving me this opportunity.

  Who am I kidding? The league isn’t giving me a chance, the Pronghorns are. They were part of the pro league expansion three years ago. Long story short…the Pronghorns suck. They also have an extremely young team, or so I tell myself. Hiring me as their kicker is nothing more than a publicity stunt to keep their losing record from being the headline. I don’t care. This is my chance to play with the big boys and by damned I intend to do it.

  Larry can’t stop grinning, and I’m sure my expression matches his. “When do they expect me in Albuquerque?” I ask as calmly as possible.

  He rests the paperwork back on his desk and flashes more teeth. “Three days, kiddo. They’ll meet with you privately on Wednesday and Thursday they’ll hold a press conference and inform the team. I’m flying with you and will stick around for a few days to make sure you have your cleats on the ground.”

  Larry is like a second father to me. He has high-profile clients way bigger and better than I am, but he’s gone out of his way to put this deal in motion and lock it up tight. It’s nothing short of miraculous.

  To hell with it.

  I squeal and throw myself into Larry’s arms just like a girl, because dammit, that’s what I am.

  ∞∞∞

  Dad took the news as expected. He’s proud, scared, and knows how lonely he’ll be without me. I nudged him about moving to New Mexico, but he’s not ready to leave the house he shared with Mom. My mother was diagnosed with cancer my junior year in high school. Her illness gave me the excuse I needed to stay close to home and play soccer for the high school girls’ team instead of a travel team. I wish I could say my heart was in that sport, but one look at the football field’s lights and the roar of the crowd on Friday nights and it all crashed in around me that my heart was actually out on that field even if my female body watched from the sidelines.

  The varsity football coach caught me kicking a football through the JV field goalposts one day after soccer practice and walked over to me. I was a sophomore at the time. “How far away can you kick the ball and get it through the goalposts?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Without a defensive line running at me—fifty-six yards.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Let me see what you can do at fifty.”

  I placed the ball on the tee, kicked, and watched it sail through the goalposts. Coach Gleason put me on the team to the dismay of my soccer coach and many of the male football players. Leaving soccer was a no-brainer. My passion had always been football. I played City Junior League with the boys until I was eleven years old. When that last season began, parents complained that I would be hurt playing with boys that age and the league’s board gave me the option of switching to cheerleading. This would never happen. My mom and dad fought the ruling but the league refused to let me play. I took up soccer and dreamed endlessly about football.

  Coach Gleason didn’t stop at making me a great kicker. He made sure I knew all the ins and outs of the game and instilled the backbone I needed to apply for the kicking position at the local community college. The day before college tryouts, my mother was hospitalized. Hospice stepped in with a plan of action to keep her comfortable until the end, which wasn’t far off. I was angry at the world and marched onto the field with a combination of rage and self-pity.

  I’ll never forget the laughs and jeers from the other players. I ignored them and I also ignored the strange looks I received from the coaching staff. All but Coach Alan. He nodded my way and then treated me like the other kickers trying out. I didn’t miss at ten, twenty, or fifty yards—each kick was successful. Slowly, other coaches took notice, watching and whispering among themselves. I channeled my heartbreak over my mother’s illness and left everything I had on that field. My anger at the world helped me land the kicking position and taught me a valuable lesson. Football is an aggressive game and you play hard or go home.

  I play hard.

  My mom died three weeks later. I sat quietly by her bed reading football manuals and sports magazines until her final hours. My dad and I held her hands and spoke to her while she passed. I was shattered by her loss and worried about Dad. He and Mom married young and they were still in love after twenty-six years of marriage. Their love was exactly what I wanted in a relationship. For my athletic dreams to come true, though, I put romance on hold. The college football season helped me get through the rough days after Mom’s death. Dad made every home game and cheered loud enough from the stands that I always heard him. We both needed football to help cope with our loss.

  As the only girl in college football, I received national recognition from a weekly news show that interviewed me. This happened after our first game when I scored an extra point and two field goals. The sensation of a female kicker wore off quickly in the community college world and I settled down to play the sport I loved.

  “You hanging in there?” Larry asks from the seat beside me.

  We’re flying first class, which seems so weird. I’
m accustomed to bending my long legs practically to my shoulders in coach.

  “I’m terrified,” I reply truthfully.

  His laugh belts throughout the cabin and several people turn and look. “You and me both, kiddo. A lot’s riding on this.” Larry’s wife left for parts unknown when his three daughters were young, and he raised them by himself. Not easy in his high-dealing sports world but he managed. One of his daughters is a captain in the Army, one is a stay-at-home mom, and the youngest is still in college with her eyes set on the space program. Larry understands what it’s like for women in male-dominated fields. He told me once that his girls were just as worthy as men when it came to doing the same job. He lives by that and helping me proves it.

  The billion-dollar world of professional football changes slowly. When they first gave into pressure and hired female journalists to cover teams inside the locker room, all you heard about was the harassment women put up with. Detroit Tigers’ Jack Morris went so far as to say he refused to talk to women when he was naked. “Unless they are on top of me or I am on top of them,” were his exact words. Yeah, that went over well with the female crowd. Not!

  I understand what I’m up against. I’ll make it because I never back down from a challenge. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared to death, because I am. A week from now will be better, I tell myself. One week.

  A driver meets us when we step out of the terminal. He’s holding a sign with my name on it. The entire deal with signing me has been on the hush-hush. The first round of secret negotiations stated clearly that if any information leaked to the press on my end, the deal was null and void. Right now only my father knows. I’ll call Coach Alan, Reg, and Laura as soon the press conference is over.

  We arrive at the corporate building next to the stadium about thirty minutes later. It took longer to get out of the airport traffic than it actually did to navigate the roads to the stadium. I step out of the town car and breathe deeply. The stadium sits a hundred yards away. My eyes travel the tall outer walls all the way to the retractable roof.

  This is now my home.

  Even in the warm air, chills run across my arms and the butterflies in my stomach begin flapping their wings. The city—actually the entire state—had big hopes for the Pronghorns. I seriously doubt I’ll have any impact on the status of the team’s public perception. I’m here to do one job—kick a fifteen ounce ball through two posts set eighteen and a half feet apart.

  No worries, I tell myself. You’ve spent the last few years doing just that. You got this.

  Chapter Two

  Aiden

  I remember turning twenty-three and beginning my first season as a starting quarterback. The powers that be considered twenty-three young for a starter. Now, three years later, I feel old. From the wear and tear on my body and my mental state from losing game after game, I don’t have the same excitement as I’ve had in the past.

  As team captain, it’s my job to pump up the players for the coming season. I’m hoping the new kicker the front office signed will help us out. The entire process has been shadowed in mystery for some ungodly reason. We have a player or two who are gay. They keep it on the down-low. I truly don’t give a damn about who they have in their bed. Play your position, give it your heart, and screw anyone you want. With consent, that is.

  This doesn’t mean all the players feel this way. By my thinking, the idiots need to get over it and move on. I haven’t seen a sexual pass in the locker room or heard of one. Maybe the new kicker is openly gay and the organization expects some backlash from players. Again, I don’t care if he’s green with three eyes. If the man can kick a football through the goalposts, that’s all that matters.

  “Mornin’, Aiden,” Jim the security guard says as I walk through the front doors of corporate.

  “Good morning, Jim.”

  “Winning’s in the air, boss,” he adds as I head to the elevator. God, I hope he’s right.

  The building isn’t tall, four stories only, and meetings on the fourth floor are always important. The first practice of training camp is in three days. Maybe my energy level will pick up then. We’ve made some good trades since the end of last season, and our defensive line should be able to hold their end of things this year. My body is suffering and the sacks are getting to me. Something needs to give. With a new offensive guard and tackle weighing more than three hundred and twenty pounds each we have a shot.

  I rotate my shoulders in the swanky elevator. No pain. At least for now. I’ll check in with that in a couple of weeks. The doors open and I walk down the hall to the double doors leading into a large conference room where the meeting is taking place. Rick Dove, the chairman and owner of the team, is sitting at the head of the table. Kendal Gillum, our legal counsel, and his assistants (whose names I can’t remember) are on either side of him. Chris Palco, the western regional scout; Buck Mitchel, the head coach; and Roger Morely, the special teams coach, take three of the other eight chairs.

  This is unusual, and suddenly, I don’t feel so good about the situation.

  Rick waves me over. “Welcome, Aiden. Have a seat. Our new kicker won’t be here for another five minutes or so and we want to be sure we’re all on the same page.”

  Rick is in his early seventies, in good shape for his age, and someone I like. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and never played football. Lacrosse was his sport. His family money allowed him to build the team once the league expanded. I’ve never doubted his love of the game or his decision-making abilities even without a football background. Unfortunately, we’ve had injuries to key players and we can’t seem to bring ourselves out of the string of bad luck we’ve faced.

  “Yes, sir,” I say and nod at everyone in turn. I take a seat one down from Roger. I expected Rick, Buck, and maybe Roger. Meeting with legal counsel is never good in my opinion and having three in the same room is downright scary.

  “We’re excited about this, Aiden,” Rick begins.

  I look around the room and the last thing I feel is excitement. “We’ve needed a decent kicker for a long time,” I say, keeping my tone steady while I play along.

  “We need you to be the calm one in this situation, Aiden.” Rick pauses and then continues when I give no response. “There will be media attention that we haven’t seen since our first kickoff.” He gives a short chuckle. “Scrap that, this will be bigger.” He looks down at the large folder in front of him. “Does the name Jordan Givens spark any memories?”

  The name does, but for the life of me I don’t know why. It’s not a football name I’m familiar with. Even thinking about the new crop of seniors in college leaves a blank. For some reason, my mind moves to soccer. It would make sense, though I doubt one of their pansy-ass players could handle the football grind, even a kicker’s job.

  “No matter, here she is now.”

  I turn and his words don’t register because my dick immediately comes to attention at the sight of the woman walking through the door. This doesn’t happen to me. I’m not some cross-eyed, orgasmic teenager, but Christ this woman is an eyeful. Her brown hair is free and wild around her shoulders, her suit jacket, which is way too hot for our weather, hugs her curves. She has the face of an angel with rounded cheeks giving her an innocent quality. Long eyelashes accent large expressive hazel eyes. And lips. Hell. Plump and prissy is the only way to describe them. They beg to be kissed…no, bitten. There’s nothing angelic in the lush, red curves of those lips. I want them wrapped around my—. Hell, I need to stop this.

  We stand. I drag my eyes away from the woman who’s causing me mental and physical havoc and try to make sense of the man who is old enough to be my father standing beside her. Is he her father? He’s our new kicker, and I place my hand on the table to keep from swaying. I can’t believe we’ve sunk this low. He must be paying us to play and he’s in the worst shape of any player I’ve ever seen. Where did they find him? The grandfather league?

  Rick walks forward and takes the gorgeous woman into
his arms for a quick hug. She appears startled by his behavior. His hands on her pisses me off, which is the dumbest reaction I could have. Rick turns to our new kicker and puts out his hand for a quick shake before placing his arm around the woman.

  “Aiden,” he says to me while walking the woman forward, “meet the first female kicker in pro football.”

  For a minute, the world shifts on its axis and my testicles immediately recede. They climb so far up inside me I need to swallow them back down. He can’t be serious. Can he? Female kicker? My mind is playing tricks. Her gaze stays glued to mine and I realize I’ve blown the Mr. Cool reaction I’m known for. Get your shit together, Patrickson, I admonish myself.

  “I’m Larry Modiess, Jordan’s agent.” Larry puts his hand out and we shake. “You’re with Neil Bronson. He and I go way back.” He doesn’t wait for a reply and continues shaking the hands of the other men in the room while I stare at Jordan. She holds my gaze and a moment later, anger replaces her stilted smile. It’s obvious she doesn’t care for my stunned regard, and her shoulders stiffen. Her unforgettable lips purse and draw my attention. My cock comes back to life.

  “There’s the man we’ve been waiting for,” Rick says.

  I peel my eyes away from Jordan and notice Jim Blevins, the media relations manager, walking into the room. “Sorry, Rick. I was held up in traffic.” He glances past me. “Jordan, how does it feel to be a Pronghorn?”

  Thank God he’s not asking me. Right now I think it feels like I jumped into a pit of vipers. I need to hold onto my shit until I can process what’s happening.

  “Nice. Real nice, Jim.” Her low, sexy voice brings me out of the hole I’ve been slowly crawling into. No one seems to give a damn that I haven’t said a word. Wait until the team finds out. The front office will have a herd of raging bulls running through here. Or, more likely, mass exodus. A female is the last thing this team needs.

  Jim speaks again and I try to follow what he’s saying. “I’m glad to hear that, Jordan. Let’s all have a seat and I’ll go over our press release and what’s expected of you at the press conference I have planned for tomorrow.” He waves toward the table and everyone begins to sit.