by Fox, Cathryn
I kiss her cheek. “That’s right, little one. I’m going to be a dad again, and you’re going to be a big sister.”
“She’s going to be the best sister,” Ella says.
“With a mom like you guiding her, she’s going to be the best at everything.”
She smiles at the compliment. “The best things really do happen at Christmas.”
She’s right they do, but with Ella and Piper and our families, every day is Christmas for me. It might have taken us time to get here, but we eventually got to where we needed to be. Life might not always be fair and we have to fight battles, but eventually we’re all where we’re supposed to be, and I wouldn’t change the past. It made us who we are today, taught us about trust, values, and love.
I look at my beautiful, pregnant wife and my child. “I have everything I need right here, and then some.”
“Merry Christmas, Landon.”
I touch her stomach, the love I have for my wife, my daughter and my unborn child bubbling over inside me. “How about this,” I tease. “Next game, if I get a touchdown, I get to have my way with you.”
“Why would I bargain with you? What could possibly be in it for me?”
I flash her a smile. “If I don’t get a touchdown, you get to have your way with me.”
She smiles and puts her hands on my cheeks. “Sounds fair.”
I press my lips to hers. “Sounds like either way, I’m the winner.”
“So am I, Landon. So am I.”
Afterword
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading Fair Play, book one in my End Zone series. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I loved writing it. Please read on for an excerpt of Enemy Down, available June 2021.
Enemy Down
Interested in leaving a review? Please do! Reviews help readers connect with books that work for them. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.
Happy Reading,
Cathryn
Enemy Down
Maize
“Hot, right?”
I glance to my left, to lane number four as fellow track star—and my very best friend—Kaitlyn Collins catches up to me. I lift my face to the sky to take in the late afternoon sun. It might be early fall, but it’s always hot in Southern California this time of year. I swipe beads of moisture from my forehead and concentrate on my breathing and my pace. Our big meet is next week, and I need to take first in my category or…well, I can’t think of the consequences.
“The sun is going down. It should cool off soon enough,” I say, but before I get a chance to turn my focus back to my own lane, I catch her mischievous grin, and the wagging of her eyebrows.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?” I ask, instantly regretting the words spilling from my mouth. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Honestly, I’d have to be a total idiot not to know she’s talking about the football team, and their…oh, how does she describe them in their tight pants? Sexy, hot football butts. If you ask me, they all look like overstuffed sausages ready to burst wide open. I never did have a taste for sausages, except those flat breakfast sandwiches ones from my favorite fast-food restaurant.
“You don’t want to tap dat ass?” she teases. I take a deep, fueling breath and focus straight ahead, putting an end to this conversation. I am not discussing butts with her, or any kind of sausage. But will she let it alone? Hell no. This is Kaitlyn we’re talking about. She might want to work her way through the entire football team—bed every Falcon—but she can leave me out of it. I have more important things to think about than tapping any man’s ass. Wait, is that even a thing?
“What about Christian?”
“What about him?” I grumble.
Her grin widens and yeah, I get it. She caught me staring at the quarterback as he called out the last play. I’d give just about anything to run track somewhere else, but no, Kingston had to efficiently build the track around the football field, forcing me to stare at cocky Christian Moore like it’s my damn job. When it comes right down to it, I don’t have to stare. I don’t even want to stare. I hate that guy with the power of a thousand burning suns, and honestly, that might not even be enough sun to accurately describe the extent of my loathing.
Then why the hell were you staring, Maize?
Isn’t that the question of the century. But there is one thing I know. It has nothing to do with his butt in those pants. Almost nothing, or maybe everything.
“Christian is looking even harder this year, don’t you think?” She lifts her arm and flexes her impressive bicep.
I put on my best bored expression. “I wouldn’t know.”
I pick up my pace, hoping to leave my bestie behind, but she’s not having any of that. I might be the school’s top middle-distance runner, but she’s the top long-distance girl, and there isn’t a hurdle she can’t jump. My stupid gaze slides to Christian again.
Speaking of jumping.
Come on, Maize!
Kaitlyn kicks out those long athletic legs of hers and catches up easily. Not that I really thought I could lose her. We’re both attending Kingston College on sport scholarships. Most students here are on their parents’ dime, but we’re star athletes from the wrong side of the tracks. We met at Sweetwater High, an uber rich high school in So Cal. We both had to take three different busses to get there each morning, since it was outside our school districts. That’s where I met Christian too. God, just thinking about him makes me want to hurl. The guy singlehandedly ruined my life in senior year.
I cast Kaitlyn a glance, and as if being pulled by some greater force, my gaze once again slides to Christian, only to find his eyes locked on me—like he could feel me staring, feel me thinking about him. Holy shit. I tear my gaze away fast and suck in air.
“We still on for the mall later?” I ask, trying not to sound winded. I could run for hours without losing my breath, but apparently, all it takes is one direct look from Christian to steal the air from my lungs.
Get it together, girl.
Her pace slows, as she finishes her run. “Yeah, but I can’t be long. I have a group project meeting later.”
I toss my words over my shoulders. “Okay, I have one lap left. After I shower, I’ll meet you out front.”
She nods and wanders off the track as I keep running. I pick up the pace, wanting to feel the burn in my legs—and expel images of Christian from my brain. My lungs expand, and I enjoy the rush of endorphins racing through my body. Nothing, and I mean nothing—sex included—feels as good as running. Not that I’ve had a lot of sex. I’m practically a virgin. A few years back, my buddy Ryan—the boy next door back home—and I, decided we didn’t want to be virgins when we went off to college. So, we did the logical thing and had sex. It was awkward and fumbling, and it was over before it ever began. I’m not even sure I climaxed. Pretty sure I didn’t. I can barely get myself off with my own hand. Usually, I have to switch to battery operated, which I hate to do in an old house with nothing but seaweed between the walls. I have four roommates, and I’d die of embarrassment if they ever heard.
Dear Mom, thanks for that strict Catholic upbringing and all the teachers who body shamed us. At Sweetwater, our uniforms were constantly assessed. I was told numerous times my skirt was too high. Um hello. Tall girl. Long legs. Capri pants on other girls are like shorts on me.
I’m about to slow my pace, but the next thing I know, something big and hard hits me in the side of the head, and I lose all sense of balance. The direct hit, combined with my speed, sends me flying forward, and the sound of bones popping, and skin ripping as I hit the ground hard, reverberates around me, over the ringing in my ears.
My jaw skids shut with an audible click as my face hits the track, and I skid. It takes forever for my body to stop moving and the world to stop spinning. When everything slows, I lay on the ground face down, too afraid to breathe…to move.
What the hell just happened?
>
“Are you okay?” I try to move, to check my limbs, but whoever is hovering over me puts his hands on my back to hold me down. “Don’t move.”
Move? I almost laugh, because I’m not sure I can move and that seriously freaks me out. I turn my head to the side, and that’s when Christian puts his face down, right there, inches from mine.
“Maize, I’m so sorry.”
What is he talking about?
“My football,” he begins obviously reading the question in my eyes. “I don’t know. I threw it, and Kyle missed it, and then you were right there, perfectly aligned for it to hit. You weren’t there a second before. You must have picked up your pace.”
“Oh, it’s my fault, is it?” I manage to get out.
His brow furrows, and he shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I mean.”
Voices echo in my brain as everyone comes running, and embarrassment floods me. I need to get up, to move, to run all the way to Canada, never to be heard from again. I move my hand, and once again Christian presses down, to stop me.
“Can you stop doing that?” I whimper. “I’m fine. I don’t feel anything.”
His face twists. “Yeah, that’s because of the adrenaline rush. Give it a second.”
I swallow. Why do I get the feeling he knows something I don’t? “Christian—”
“You’re going to be okay,” he says, but the strain in his voice tells another story.
A burst of panic floods my body, and I slide my hand and touch my forehead to find an egg-sized lump. It’s possible I have a concussion. The world spins and my stomach lurches from the movement. Great, now I’m going to vomit in front of everyone. This ground might as well open up and swallow me whole.
“Here,” he says, and slides his jersey under my head to cushion it from the ground. I sink into the soft material, heavy with the scent of soap and…Christian. Okay, I definitely have a concussion, because no way on the face of this earth would I be reveling in the stupid aroma of his shirt.
Damn him!
A siren sounds and I try to shake my head no. All I need to do is get up, throw a little dirt on my wounds, and I’ll be okay. I give a very unladylike snort. That’s what my Mom used to say to me when I was little and hurt myself. Throw a little dirt on it. Mom and me, we were a team. Just the two of us against the world. We did things on our own terms, and asked for nothing. We worked for everything, or we went without.
“Maize, please,” Christian implores, his voice, heavy with worry, stills me. He drops to the ground, and lays on his side, his eyes locked on mine. Blue. My God, he has the most gorgeous blue eyes in the universe. I couldn’t see them that night we were locked in the closet, playing seven minutes in heaven. I wanted so badly to fit in with the ‘popular’ girls at Sweetwater. When Chelsea Haverstock invited me to her party, I was thrilled. Of course, I had no idea it would ruin my reputation and leave me friendless, except for Kaitlyn. She had no desire to be a popular girl. She knew mean when she saw it. Now I see it everywhere.
“I think your ankle is broken,” he says his voice low, like it will somehow soften the blow.
“No, it’s not.” I suck in a fast breath, determined to get up, but his big hand continues to push me down again and why the hell do I like that so much? What is wrong with me? I hate his face. I hate his touch, and I most definitely hate the way he’s pinning me down, and making me wonder what it would be like if he were on top of me.
“The paramedics are almost here. Let’s wait and see what they say.”
“I’m not waiting for anything.” No, I’m getting up, finishing my run, and meeting Kaitlyn for a fast trip to the mall for new laces. If I wait, they might tell me what I refuse to admit. If I refuse to admit it, then I won’t be off the team, my scholarship won’t be stripped from me, and I won’t have to move back home, having made nothing of myself. I have big dreams, for God’s sake. I want to be a lawyer, I want to right all the wrongs and help people.
His fingers splay on my back, teasing all my nerve endings until pleasure mingles with pain. I’m familiar with the sensations from running, and I have to admit, my body craves that rush. The next thing I know, I’m being checked out by two men, and nearly blinded by a flashlight. Everyone is moving, fussing about, and my head starts to pound so hard, nausea grips my stomach. If they would all just leave me alone, I’ll be fine. The two paramedics move me, and shift me to a gurney. I briefly close my eyes, wishing I was an ostrich and could shove my head in the sand. I might be an athlete, but I don’t love being the center of attention, and right now, every member of Kingston’s football team is staring at me—so are their girlfriends, and all the cheerleaders.
It takes great effort to go up onto my elbows, to check out my body, and a sound that seems to scare everyone around me crawls out of my throat when I glance at my foot, which is twisted in an unnatural way.
“No…” I whisper. “No, no, no.”
“Maize,” Christian says, and I turn to him as tears burn behind my eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” He puts his hand on my shoulder.
I swallow against the pain in my throat. Christian is a rich kid, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has no idea that his wayward football just put an end to my scholarship. How the hell am I going to pay for next term’s tuition?
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shoot back, and he withdraws his big hand from my shoulder, worry and guilt all over his face. “You ruined high school for me, and…” a humorless laugh crawls out of my throat. “And now, not only have you ruined my senior year of college, but you might have ruined my future too.” He rears back like I just slapped him. His mouth opens and closes, like my words have shocked him, but he knows what he did that day in the closet, what he’s done now. I hold my skinned palm up to stop him. “Just go.” He inches back, and I square my shoulders to pull myself together. No way, no how am I going down like this. I’m a fighter. A survivor. A girl who can stand on her own two feet—well, at the moment, on one good foot. As long as I can stand, I’ll do whatever it takes—anything—to stay in college.
Well, just about anything…
Also by Cathryn Fox
End Zone
Fair Play
Enemy Down
Keeping Score
All In
Blue Bay Crew
Demolished
Leveled
Hammered
Single Dad
Single Dad Next Door
Single Dad on Tap
Single Dad Burning Up
Players on Ice
The Playmaker
The Stick Handler
The Body Checker
The Hard Hitter
The Risk Taker
The Wing Man
The Puck Charmer
The Troublemaker
The Rule Breaker
In the Line of Duty
His Obsession Next Door
His Strings to Pull
His Trouble in Talulah
His Taste of Temptation
His Moment to Steal
His Best Friend’s Girl
His Reason to Stay
Confessions
Confessions of a Bad Boy Professor
Confessions of a Bad Boy Officer
Confessions of a Bad Boy Fighter
Confessions of a Bad Boy Doctor
Confessions of a Bad Boy Gamer
Confessions of a Bad Boy Millionaire
Confessions of a Bad Boy Santa
Confessions of a Bad Boy CEO
Hands On
Hands On
Body Contact
Full Exposure
Dossier
Private Reserve
House Rules
Under Pressure
Big Catch
Brazilian Fantasy
Improper Proposal
Boys of Beachville
Good at Being Bad
Igniting the Bad Boy
Bad Girl Therapy
Stone Cliff Ser
ies:
Crashing Down
Wasted Summer
Love Lessons
Wrapped Up
Eternal Pleasure Series
Instinctive
Impulsive
Indulgent
Sun Stroked Series
Seaside Seduction
Deep Desire
Private Pleasure
Captured and Claimed Series:
Yours to Take
Yours to Teach
Yours to Keep
Firefighter Heat Series
Fever
Siren
Flash Fire
Playing For Keeps Series
Slow Ride
Wild Ride
Sweet Ride
Breaking the Rules:
Hold Me Down Hard
Pin Me Up Proper
Tie Me Down Tight
Stand Alone Title:
Hands on with the CEO
Torn Between Two Brothers
Holiday Spirit
Unleashed
Knocking on Demon’s Door
Web of Desire
About Cathryn
New York Times and USA today Bestselling author, Cathryn is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and red wine. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cathryn can never find balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books that her readers will love.
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