Swooning over the Football Billionaire Groom (Sweet, Christian Football Bad Boy Romance Series Book 1)

by Ellie Hall

  “And you trust me with that?”

  “I trust you because you didn’t jump on the opportunity to use the fact that you had my phone against me.”

  “Why would I do that? Who would do that?” she asked.

  She was smart and perceptive but had no idea how ruthless people who wanted a piece of fame and fortune could be. As much as the media gave to his career, they could just as easily take it away. He kept up the bravado with Coach Hammer, but he knew all too well the point that the commissioner was trying to make. He didn’t want the team to be cast into the shadow of the real scandal of his past.

  “Please?” he said. The desperation in his tone jolted him with a shock of unreality, but so had the call he’d received years before from that same number. Declan wasn’t the kind of guy to say please or to be vulnerable with a girl. Maggie drew something out of him much like Siobhan had—the real him.

  “What if the call is good news. Something pleasing. A charity event or birthday invite or visit from an old friend?”

  He tucked his head back and snorted. “You’re right. I guess I just expected the worst.”

  “Someone once told me that life is the way we perceive it. If we expect bad things, well, that’s what we’ll see. If we anticipate good stuff, we’ll get more of that.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile.

  “Makes sense.” She passed him the phone. It was as heavy as a sack of bricks. He’d know, his old trainer used to have him haul them.

  She inclined her head, indicating he listen.

  He passed it back to her. “Can’t.”

  “Won’t.”

  “You won’t listen to it?” he asked.

  “I mean you can listen to it. You’re choosing not to. You won’t.”

  “Fine. I can admit that. I’d just rather not. Even if it’s good news.”

  “How about this? We’ll play rock paper scissors. Best of three has to listen to the message.”

  “Okay. I’m good at this.” Declan was a winner. Only, this was a game of chance. He tried to get into the mind of his opponent. Was Maggie a rock, paper, or scissors kind of gal? On the outside, she seemed like paper, but on the inside, she was solid, especially given that bit of wisdom she dropped about perception.

  Sure enough, she went with scissors. He opted for rock.

  “Rock beats scissors,” he said.

  They tucked their hands behind their backs. He went with scissors the next time and she opted for paper.

  “I won, but now we’re tied. Whoever wins the next round has to listen to the call,” she said.

  They repeated the motions. Declan produced scissors. Maggie did paper.

  “I won,” he said, hopping to his feet and doing a victory dance.

  “You know that’s obnoxious,” she said, but she was smiling.

  He passed her the phone suddenly feeling hopeful. Maybe it was a call about a birthday or visit or something involving cake.

  She tapped the button and held the phone up to her ear, listening.

  Her eyes dimmed. Her shoulders dropped. She tried to keep her face like stone, like rock, but he could see it crumpling like paper.

  And at that moment, it was like he was stabbed and sharp pain filled his entire body all over again.

  Chapter 7

  Maggie

  Someone with a thick Irish accent left the message Declan must’ve instinctually known he probably wouldn’t want to hear.

  Maggie cleared her throat. “She said you should call. It’s important. Right away. No matter what time of day or night.” The lie slipped off Maggie’s tongue except that last part was true. There was no way she could tell him that there had been an accident. That someone might not make it. She passed him the phone. “Important could mean any number of things. A house warming party, a new addition to the family...” She bit her lip. The caller’s grave tone suggested it was bad.

  He stepped back. “You sure?” he asked as though not quite believing it.

  She thrust the phone in his direction. “Go ahead. Call.”

  “Nah. It’s too late. I’ll do it in the morning.” He took his phone.

  “Promise?” she asked, not sure she’d made the right decision. “Promise that you’ll call right away.”

  She didn’t mean to lie, but couldn’t very well tell him the content of the message. It wasn’t her place. She hadn’t finished her cupcake but had actually lost her appetite.

  Declan glanced at the number on the screen as though debating whether to listen to it himself.

  A rush of panic swept through Maggie.

  He clicked delete.

  Relief that he wouldn’t know that she’d lied replaced her worry. But then guilt sank like a boulder in her belly. “We should head back,” she said.

  He tucked his phone away. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” But the guilt started eating her up. “Promise me you’ll return the call,” she repeated.

  He nodded and then spotted her cupcake. “You’re not going to finish that?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  He gobbled it up, every last crumb. His smile told her it was delicious and that everything was okay between them. And that he didn’t know that she hadn’t conveyed the entirety of the message. They neared the exit to the hallway.

  “I’m kind of surprised that we get along so well. It’s easy to talk to you,” he said.

  A dark thought crossed Maggie’s mind. But it was hard to lie to him. She felt like telling him the truth, right there. That someone had overdosed on drugs. She bit her lip.

  “Oh, here,” he said, passing her phone. “Almost forgot.”

  She took it from him.

  “By the way, you look beautiful in the Cinderella costume, but I also liked the photo of you lounging by the pool.” He winked.

  “You looked through my camera roll?” she asked.

  “You can’t blame me for being curious.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “What’s on deck for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “We’ll be reviewing digital etiquette.”

  “Perfect. Now that we have each other’s numbers, we can practice.” He winked.

  He’d been so unexpectedly sweet since they’d arrived in the kitchen. He’d left an imprint everywhere their hands had touched: palms, fingers, knuckles. And the kisses he’d given each of them after he acknowledged the viral video sent a rush through her veins, all the way to her chest and belly. The bluebirds had gone bonkers.

  “Anything else on the docket so I can be prepared, Coach? Any more midnight escapades around the school? Is there more cake in our future?” Apparently, he’d forgotten all about the message or her answer had placated him. He slid right back into Declan the showman.

  “We’ll cover how not to make a grand entrance.”

  “But that’s what I do.” He flashed a cocky smile.

  “Not anymore and not according to your coach and commissioner.”

  “Well, I don’t imagine they said anything about making a grand exit. I’m good at that too.” In one swift motion, he picked her up under his arm and hurried down the hall.

  “Put me down,” she hissed. “I’m not a football.”

  “Woods is going long. Will he make it to the endzone?” he whisper-shouted.

  They rounded the corner, went up a couple of flights of stairs, and he still carried her as though she were light as a feather, er, football.

  “If I tell you what kind of cake is my favorite, will you put me down?” she begged with laughter in her voice.

  Declan came to an abrupt stop, setting her on her feet. They were toe to toe. She had to lift her gaze to meet his since he was nearly a foot taller. He smoothed a few of her perpetual fly away hairs. His lashes brushed his cheeks as he gazed at her. His lips quirked.

  He was hardly out of breath from his race up the stairs, but she sensed the heat from his pulse.

  “So?” he asked.

  Her eyes searched his. She’d n
ever met anyone like Declan but feared she could lose herself in him, probably like Tess, Kate, and Brandi had done.

  She swallowed hard. His gaze alone could have destroyed her. But it was his lips at that moment that threatened to undo her. Then they moved. “So, what kind of cake is your favorite?” His voice was low, husky.

  “Carrot cake.”

  He cracked a smile. “You were afraid I’d laugh, but strangely, I’m turned on.”

  Her eyes widened. That wasn’t what she expected him to say, but more to the point, she wasn’t expecting to agree—not about the cake, but about being attracted to him.

  Maggie hurried into the Regency suite without another word.

  On the other side of the door, she caught her breath even though he’d been the one to carry her all the way upstairs.

  In an exhausted daze, she promptly collapsed in bed.

  Maggie’s jet lag sent her directly to sleep and woke her up earlier the next morning much earlier than she’d have liked. As she recalled where she was and what had happened the evening before, she groaned. She was attracted to her pupil. They’d shared a moment. More than one. She’d lied to him. She’d left a mess in Florida and found herself in another one. Her father had merely sent her a thumbs up and a smiley face when she told him she got a new job and moved to Concordia. Why was that her life?

  As she got ready for another day, she imagined Declan doing everything he could to break the rules of etiquette at dinner the night before, most notably chewing with his mouth open. That was a definite turn-off. But it didn’t do the trick. She thought of him sucking his teeth, slurping his water, and belching. He hadn’t done the last one, but if she could picture it happen, perhaps it would dampen her desire to hold his hand again, to feel his lips move from her knuckles to her mouth, to be swept away by Prince Charming. Because he was charming that was for sure.

  As she quickly scrolled her phone for any news, messages, and to find out what official day it was—official hug day—she passed a report about moon-gate. No, Declan was vulgar, rude, and gruff. She squared her shoulders, banishing further thoughts of him from her mind and marched into the hall all business.

  Maggie arrived five minutes early to the classroom indicated on her schedule. She gave Haleigh a quick text update, leaving the details of the night before out. She added that it was official hug day and sent her friend a virtual hug.

  Declan appeared, exactly on time. She ignored the slant of his green eyes, the cut of his cheekbones, and the fullness of his lips. She focused on the crazy hair, the wild beard, and that his shirt was untucked.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” she repeated, also ignoring the crimp of excitement that rushed through her at the sound of his voice. “According to my notes, we need to cover grooming habits, dating, and I think we should continue reviewing table manners.”

  “Good, I’m starved,” he said.

  His eyes cut to her and all she could think about was their midnight rendezvous in the kitchen. Suddenly, she was hungry too.

  For the remainder of the week, Maggie and Declan worked on deportment, greetings, digital manners, and how to carry on a conversation without flirting. Maggie’s cheeks were tomato red practically the entire time. He was incapable of not flirting at least with her it seemed.

  One morning, they went to the salon at the school for a makeover and to study grooming habits. He walked out of that room with a hair trim and his bushy beard shaved, gone, caput, revealing smooth cheeks, a strong jaw, and a tiny dimple on one side. She had a full body flush. The makeover didn’t help matters.

  Later, Haleigh texted, asking her how things were going. I miss you and your random cake deliveries.

  I miss you too! Things are going fine, Maggie replied.

  Fine as in Declan Woods is a total stud? Why didn’t you tell me you were working with the famous football player?

  How did you know? Maggie texted back.

  Deductive reasoning. Nadia is still dating the guy from the Miami Riptide. She’d mentioned she was glad he didn’t have to go to reform school like the guys from the Boston Bruisers. Then she went on to tell me that Wolf, the guy her cousin was coaching, was driving her nuts.

  So how do you know I’m coaching Declan?

  You mentioned his Irish accent but not how he’s so good looking. Are you totally swooning over there?

  He wears the tackiest outfits—designer stuff. He also sometimes spits when we’re outside. Gross. Oh, and sometimes he doesn’t wear socks. Also, he’s not very good at spelling. She listed off everything she could think of to counter the fact that Haleigh was correct. She was indeed attracted to Declan and even more so since he’d clean up his appearance.

  Haleigh sent back a laughing emoji and then a heart-eyed emoji. Don’t even tell me you also don’t have a list of things that you like about him.

  She didn’t. Not really.

  His smile.

  His laugh.

  His good looks.

  His desire to have a good time.

  The way he looked at her like he saw her.

  No, not a thing.

  Okay, if you and Nadia get a football player, you need to hook me up too. Okay?

  You don’t want one. Trust me. Maggie wrote back.

  Does that mean you have one? Haleigh replied and then ghosted from the conversation.

  Everything that wasn’t on her hate list, was on her...no. It wasn’t a love list. She didn’t love anything about Declan. She couldn’t. There could never be anything between them especially since he was a celebrity and even more so since she’d lied about the message.

  Even though Declan could easily slip into what she’d dubbed his famous-face when he pulled out the bravado and charm, he’d passed his lessons with flying colors. He was a great student, had cleaned up, and was ready for the next phase of coaching.

  On Saturday morning, Katerina called all the etiquette coaches and football players into a parlor room. In the span of a week, Maggie had been busy, but she’d also met the other women and the guys they were assigned to.

  Katerina had Wolf as a pupil who seemed to be a bit of a player, off the field especially. However, if anyone could handle him, it would be her.

  A British woman named Pippa had been assigned Chase. It appeared as if they’d known each other previously.

  Everly was paired up with Grey, whose name was very fitting. It was like he’d stepped into a sunless, shadowy place. Everly had worn a look of concern on her face all week, but whether it was because Grey was difficult or for some other reason, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  The guys were talking and joking around when Katerina called for attention. “I have good news. All of you passed the first review.

  “Now, you’ll have lessons in the field—”

  “The football field?” Wolf asked.

  Katerina glowered. “You will have the offsite opportunity to apply what you learned in the classroom to real-life scenarios.”

  “We’re done here?” Declan asked, casting a furtive glance at Maggie. But his phone rang with the crowd cheering ringtone. He clicked it off. “Sorry about that. I thought I’d silenced it. Maggie’s made sure I knew to do that in meetings.”

  She nodded in affirmation.

  “But I thought it was a month-long program,” Declan said.

  “Sounds like you like it here, dude,” Wolf said.

  “Nah, I think he’s pumped that we finished early. Take that, Coach Hammer. We’re proper gentleman,” Chase said around a laugh.

  Katerina snorted. “You’re done at the school, yes, but not with your coaching. Your etiquette teacher will be your constant companion wherever you go and whatever you do for the next three weeks.”

  Whatever the other guys thought of it, Maggie wasn’t sure, but Grey stiffened and didn’t take his eyes off Everly.

  The coaches addressed their pupils and Maggie made her way to Declan not exactly pumped, as Chase had said, to be leaving the relative
peace at the Blancbourg school and following Declan’s footsteps into the limelight.

  He had his back to her and was gazing out the window. He must’ve sensed someone behind him, turned, and lowered his phone from his ear. His expression was in pieces. She knew right then that the caller from Ireland had finally gotten in touch with him.

  He muttered a word that likely had never been heard in the esteemed and proper rooms of the finishing school.

  Katerina’s sharp eyes darted in his direction. “What have we said about language?” she asked. “No cursing.”

  Declan rushed from the room.

  Maggie followed, but he wasn’t in the hall.

  The other guys must have been preoccupied with the fact that their hopes were dashed and they had to fulfill the full month of lessons and didn’t notice Declan’s sudden shift in mood. Nor did they join Maggie as she looked for Declan.

  She checked his room, but he didn’t answer when she knocked. Then she went to the gym, but he wasn’t there. Finally, she poked her head in the kitchen and found him seated on the stainless-steel table with a spoon in a tub of ice cream.

  She slid onto the table next to him. “You know how I said I like cake? I bake it whenever I’m celebrating or the opposite.”

  “What’s the opposite?”

  She gestured to him. “When I’m upset.”

  He set down the carton and nodded like he understood that she recognized how he felt. “Some guys work out when they have something big on their minds. Others run, punch stuff. I usually do, but...” He lowered from the table. “The headmistress said we have to take our lessons into the real world. I have to go to Ireland.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You can’t come.”

  “Why not?” Her head tucked back with surprise. Though she shouldn’t have been. She knew the gist of the message. Likely, he did now too.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to let the guys down.”

  “Do you mean if you screw up, all the guys are off the team?” she asked, paraphrasing what he’d told her. “Then don’t screw up.”