He shakes his head when I don’t answer. “Come on,” he says with a touch of disappointment in his voice. “I’ll help you into the seat.”
I know exactly what I’ve done. I’ve made a complete idiot of myself and acted like every other girl that gets within a mile of him. He’s probably tired of women drooling and becoming tongue-tied. Hell. I check the side of my mouth. No drool, thank God. He places his hand out and I take it. He’s not looking at me when he opens the door. “Sorry about that,” I say. “You’re larger than life and I had a fan moment.” I step onto the side runner. He releases my hand and places his fingers around my waist, lifting me upward so I slide effortlessly into the seat.
Adding to the awkwardness of my uncensored eye fuck, his unique smell permeates inside the cab of his truck. I refuse to call it a scent. To my thinking, a scent is perfume-y. This is something way more. It’s like he’s out in the woods trying to attract a female to the strongest mate. I can’t even describe it other than to say that it works. God, does it work.
A minute later, he’s in his seat and looking at me. “A fan moment, huh?”
“No worries, I’m over it. When I meet players like Killian MacGregor or Matt Ryan, expect the same reaction. I’ll actually count on you to give me a signal if I start drooling.” I chose the number one and two quarterbacks in the league for a reason, and it’s fun to watch Aiden’s lips compress in distaste.
“Killian and Matt? I’ll remember that, but no way will I help you with your drooling problem when it comes to them.” He lifts his hands and his finger touches the side of my mouth. “I’ll help you with your drool only when it’s me.” He wipes the corner of my mouth. I know there’s nothing there and he’s teasing me. This softer side of him won’t help me fight the attraction simmering inside me. Right now, my body is on fire and a zing travels along my nerve endings and goes straight to my lady parts. I’m failing every “girls can play football too” rule there is. My infatuation needs to stop right now. I slam my jaw shut, barely missing my tongue and lean away. “Don’t think you can seduce me out of playing for the Pronghorns.”
His hand drops and his face goes blank before he busts out laughing. “I actually hadn’t thought about it, but now that you’ve put it in my head… we’ll see.” He throws his truck in gear and drives us away from the hotel.
Crap, I think I just challenged him.
Chapter Eight
Aiden
She leaves me unbalanced, which doesn’t happen often. She’s so damn beautiful in a non-conforming kind of way. It’s like she’s unpolished and rough around the edges. It makes her sexy as hell. There have been a lot of women since I went pro but none has had this effect on me. I do my best to pay attention to the road so I don’t drive on top of another car when she wiggles a bit and brings her lipstick out of her back pocket. This time it’s bright pink. I use the truck’s brake a little too forcefully at the light. She glances at me before pulling down the visor and flipping up the mirror.
Christ.
I’m heading to my mother’s house with a hard dick. Music. We need music. I hit the button on the steering wheel and Hank Williams Jr. fills the cab.
“Who’s this?” she asks after running the tip of the lipstick across her sexy mouth.
That question deserves the quick “you’ve got to be kidding me” glance I give her. “Who do you listen to?” I ask without answering her ridiculousness.
“My favorite is Lady Gaga but Pink is up there. Country-western has never been my thing.”
“You’re in New Mexico now, so your ‘thing’ needs to change.” Lady Gaga, I think to myself. I wouldn’t even know what station to pull up.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”
I give her another glance and my eyes go straight to her damn pink lips. “Comes with the territory,” I say and look back at the road.
“I get it. The quarterback thing and all but I bet you’ve been bossy your whole life.” She thinks she has me figured out and she’s in for a rude awakening when she arrives at my mother’s house.
One country song leads to another and her foot begins tapping against the floorboard. It makes her leg bounce, and when I glance over, her boobs are doing the same thing. This entire evening is a bad idea and I have my younger sister to blame.
My mother called this morning and told me to invite Jordan. It didn’t matter how many objections I threw out, my mom’s voice got firmer and she refused to take no for an answer. Me, bossy? If so, I come by it naturally.
I exit the freeway and we leave the city behind. I had a house built for Ty and my mom when we first moved here. I felt bad for uprooting them from California when I took the contract with the Pronghorns. I chose a plot of land outside the city because Mom and Ty prefer the countryside. Mom also insisted on decorating one of the five bedrooms for me so I could stay over when I wanted. She has a room set aside for my older sister, who also has her own place in the city.
My mom has always considered Sunday a family day. If you know what’s good for you, you arrive on time and worship her cooking. My mom and sisters begin working in the kitchen early on Sundays, so Steph drives herself over. Mom banned me from the kitchen after my last failed attempt at spaghetti. The smell of burned noodles and garlic bread lingered in the house for a week or so, she told me. I have no problem doing dishes. Ty and I have a system, so it goes quickly.
I pull into the circular driveway. “It’s beautiful,” Jordan whispers.
The front yard has levels. Each with different types of vegetation in various stages of bloom. On the left of the stairs that lead up to the front door, water flows down a channel to the ground level. There’s a small pond at the bottom and its primary purpose is to pump the water back up so it’s in constant motion. At night, lights embedded in the concrete light up the waterfall. As gifts go, this house for Mom originated from years of hard work. Her hard work. Before Ty came into her life, she raised us on her income alone and worked extra hours so we could do the things that mattered to us most. For me, that was football. Even when she had to miss games because of work, she sat me down and had me go through the entire game for her. She made it possible for me to live my dream.
Before we climb half the steps, the front door flies open and Candice screams, “She’s here, she’s here.” Candice is wearing one of her ever present sports jerseys and short-shorts that Ty should refuse to let her walk around in. They are way too revealing.
I grab Jordan’s arms so she doesn’t fly down the stairs and break her neck when Candice throws herself forward. “Uh, hi,” Jordan says with a smile. Candice is a foot shorter than Jordan but she’s on a higher stair, so only six inches separate their height at the moment and her head lands against the tops of Jordan’s breasts.
“Hell,” I whisper under my breath.
Candice moves back, taking Jordan’s hand to lead her up the steps. “I’m Candice. Sorry you had to ride over here with crabby pants. Since you’ll be playing with him, you should get used to it. If you think it’s bad now, just wait until the season starts. We’re all crossing our fingers and toes that the Pronghorns at least break five hundred this year. Even my mother gets a dose of his snarly behavior when they lose. Maybe you can convince him that football is a team sport and he is not God.”
That’s my baby sister, and poor Jordan is getting a full serving.
We move farther into the house and my mom and Steph stroll out of the kitchen. Ty walks down the stairs and joins us. I make the introductions and they hug Jordan in turn. She laughs and smiles but I can tell she’s a little out of her comfort zone. It’s about time. Even catching her staring at my body didn’t faze her for long.
“This is beautiful,” Jordan says as we pass a large elephant made from sheet metal that stands four feet high.
Steph blushes and Candice takes over. “Steph’s the artist of the family. If it’s in the house and made out of metal, she’s responsible. I play softball, that’s my gift. I’m a shortstop
and backup catcher. Dad’s my coach.” She looks at Ty with pride.
My mom breaks in, thank God. “We’re eating at the kitchen table tonight because we want you to feel at home and the formal dining room is just that…formal. We use it mostly for holiday dinners. Ty is grilling chicken and I have salad and pasta in the fridge.”
We enter the kitchen, which is the true center of my mother’s house. It has a separate bar area with stools and a television. There’s also a television on the back of the partial wall behind the bar that faces the kitchen so she can see games from either side. The TV facing us is on without sound. It’s a replay of the final game of the women’s softball college World Series. It was a great game and I know that because Candice watches it endlessly.
Off to the left sits a large table backed by huge windows that overlook the back patio into the backyard, which is also on an incline. I pull out a stool at the bar for Jordan.
“That’s so cute,” my sister says.
“It is kind of cute,” Jordan answers as she takes the seat.
I walk to the fridge and grab four beers. “Want one?” I ask while plotting a way to kill my sister when no one is looking.
“Sure,” Jordan replies and winks at my sister.
“I’ll take one too,” Candice chimes in.
“Over my dead body,” I grumble and hand beers to Jordan, Steph, and Ty.
My mom heads into the kitchen as she is more than accustomed to the ongoing verbal jousting between me and Candice. She pulls out a large bowl of homemade bread dough and begins making dinner rolls. “I won’t ask the same questions as the media, so tell us about yourself, Jordan,” Mom requests.
Candice responds before Jordan speaks. “I couldn’t find your college stats on the internet. It sucks that community colleges don’t post like they should.”
Jordan wiggles a bit and slips her phone from her back pocket. She scrolls through a few things and hands the phone to my sister. “Here are my stats.” Candice takes the phone, sits down at the table, and goes into silent mode as she scans through the information.
This makes it possible for Jordan to answer my mom without interruption. “I’ve lived with my father up until coming here. My mom died a few years ago and I want him to move out here with me.”
Mom walks over and gives Jordan a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry about your mom. That must have been incredibly sad and difficult.”
“It was,” Jordan says in a deeper than usual voice. “I miss her and I worry about my dad.”
“Does your dad still work?” Mom asks as she heads back to the rolls.
“He’s a computer analyst and he hasn’t retired yet. It’s what keeps him going right now, so I haven’t bugged him too much.”
“It’s hard,” Ty says. “Moving was a big decision even when Aiden signed with the Pronghorns. Now, though, it feels like home. We’re thankful he insisted and for the warmer weather.”
“Yes, I need to invest in shorts. The Bay Area isn’t exactly known for its warm summer nights.”
Candice looks up from the phone. “What if I take you shopping next week? I know all the best places and I bought these shorts for a great price.” She stands and twirls around.
“That’s because there is no material to them,” I say with a pointed look at Ty.
He holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me. The last thing I’m doing in this family is telling one of the women what to wear or not to wear.”
“She’s sixteen.”
Candice glares. Jordan hides her laugh behind a swallow of beer. She should know her damn pink lips touching that bottle are killing me.
Candice hands the phone back to Jordan. “You need to work on your on-side kicks,” she advises like she’s been playing the position her entire life.
Jordan nods. “You’re right, and my number one goal this year is to do just that. Thankfully, Lane Grisham, our punter has a good record with kickoffs in general and on-side kicks. I’m hoping he can give me pointers. In all fairness the team hired me because I score.”
I almost cough into my beer. She’s been playing community college ball. Her scoring average will drop at an alarming rate if she makes it to the first regular season game. It won’t just be our players gunning to get her out of the lineup. Ninety percent of the red-blooded men in the league will be after her. It comes down to how good she can take a hit. My gaze sweeps her body and I don’t see any part of her that can take the punishment required.
“Where are you staying right now, Jordan?” my mother asks.
“The hotel the team put me up in. I looked through the paper today for apartments and had no luck.”
Steph’s eyes are glued on the TV, which has gone back to live television. “That’s you isn’t it, Jordan?”
Jordan looks up. “Oh, shit.” She covers her mouth. “Sorry about that. Someone recorded what happened at the store yesterday. Crap, I had no idea.”
I pick up the remote, go back to the beginning of the segment, and turn up the volume.
Mike Goodwyn’s voice fills the kitchen. “It seems that players and fans alike are not happy with the Pronghorns’ ridiculous publicity stunt. It’s so bad, a fan tried to knock some sense into Little Miss Muffet’s head. Sadly, someone’s grandma had to come to her rescue or the Pronghorns’ new kicker might have broken a fingernail.” The entire time he talks, a video replays behind him that shows a man purposefully shoving Jordan. I’m seeing red and Goodwyn isn’t finished with his tirade. “Playboy Bunnies make a decent living and deserve more respect than a woman who thinks she can tackle the pros and be a…” He laughs long and hard. “I can’t even say the words,” he says to his co-host before looking directly into the camera. “Jordan Givens needs to go home and let the grown men do their job.”
“That ass,” my mother mutters. She walks over, grabs the remote from my hand, and shuts off the television. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Jordan. The man who pushed you and Mike Goodwyn both need an enema to clean out the backlog of shit in their intestines. It would improve their temperament greatly.
Jordan giggles and for the first time, her lips don’t affect me like they usually do. I want to knock some heads together and it must show in my expression. Slowly everyone in the room glances in my direction. “Excuse me,” I say as calmly as I can and leave the room before I explode. A man laid his hands on Jordan and she never said a word. I want to kill someone. It’s a toss-up between Goodwyn and the asshole who assaulted her.
Chapter Nine
Jordan
I cast a stricken look at Pamela, Aiden’s mother. She’s a gorgeous woman with sun-streaked brown hair cut short around her jaw. I absolutely know where Aiden gets his good looks. You see it clearly in all three of her children. I’ll admit Ty’s handsome for an older man but their large, expressive eyes and bone structure come from their mother.
I stand from the bar stool and take a step after Aiden.
“Let him cool down,” Pamela says.
I stop and turn. “He shouldn’t need to cool down. It’s over and done. I don’t care what that jackass on TV says.”
“The man in the store put his hands on you. That’s wrong.” Ty gives me a look that shows he’s almost as angry as Aiden. “I think I’ll go join Aiden for a few minutes.” He walks out and I’m left with the women.
I’m not sure what to say. “He didn’t hurt me,” is all I can think of. I’m also relieved I told my father about the incident. I’m sure it will be on every sports channel by tomorrow.
Candice looks down the hallway where her father and brother disappeared before turning back to me. “I wish Aiden would have stayed in here. I haven’t seen him flip a gasket in a long time. Remember when that guy flashed me and my girlfriends at the park, Mom?”
Pamela gives an exaggerated shudder. “Yes, I had to buy a new coffee table for the living room.”
“He broke a coffee table?” I ask. It’s not the image of the calm, controlled Aiden I’m accustomed to.
&nbs
p; Candice laughs and looks at Steph. “What about the time he put his fist through the wall because that boy you were dating wouldn’t leave when you told him to?”
Steph adds to the conversation with a laugh. “He came running down the stairs and threatened to take the guy’s head off. When the jerk puffed up and stood his ground, Aiden punched the wall. ‘That’s what your head will look like in thirty seconds,’ he told him.”
The women laugh while I listen as they recount story after story of Aiden and his temper. Some end in physical fights but in most, Aiden destroys an inanimate object. I don’t quite see the humor in this that they do.
Pamela must notice my expression because she tries to explain. “Aiden was the man of the family until Ty came along. Even as young as he was he took the job quite seriously.”
I’m turned toward Pamela and there’s a loud pop from someplace behind me and I jump.
“No worries. Dad and Aiden are shooting cans off the upper deck,” assures Candice.
“With a gun?” I ask at the same time I hear another pop.
Candice shrugs. “It’s just a .22 rifle. We have cans tied to a tree twenty yards away.”
“I’ve lived in California my entire life. They have very strict gun laws and I’ve never owned one or fired one.” I explain this with another cringe at the next shot.
Pamela pulls fresh rolls from the oven and brings a plate over with a separate plate of butter. “We’ll teach you to shoot the next time you come over. If you want to live in New Mexico, you at least need to know your way around a gun. Now dig in and I’ll go tell the men to start the barbeque or the women will be taking over their domain.”
Pamela walks out and I’m left with Steph and Candice. “My brother has the hots for you big time,” Candice says with glee.
Goal (Completion #6) Page 5
