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

by Ellie Hall

  “That’s a really cool idea.”

  “Xavier took the van one day and disappeared. I thought he was the right one. That I could trust him. The purchase was in his name because I hadn’t established my credit. Such a stupid mistake. He sold it. Ran off to Mexico with some girl. Talk about pathetic.”

  “I hope you mean him and not you.”

  She shrugged. “I was so gullible. Should’ve taken precautions. Been business smart.” There was more to the story—it turned out he was using her for her connection to her rich and famous parents, but when it became clear that she no longer had much of a relationship with them, he’d cut ties.

  “You were trusting. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “In reality, I invested myself in a guy instead of my future.”

  “But when you find the right one...”

  At those words, it was as if the bluebirds in Maggie’s belly devoured a vat of cupcake batter and then took flight. She tried to get them to calm down, but the way Declan was looking at her with intensity and tenderness sent those birds on a sugar high.

  “Did you try to start over?”

  “Why bother?”

  “Was it a dream of yours?” he asked.

  She nodded but wasn’t sure if he was referring to her mobile cupcake service or true love.

  “You shouldn’t give up on your dreams,” he said.

  “It’s not worth it.”

  “It’s always worth it. You’re worth it, Maggie,” he said and then kissed her on the top of the head before padding up the stairs.

  Maggie remained seated on the couch in front of the fire. Only, it was like Cinderella’s bluebirds lifted her up into clouds of fluffy buttercream. She was positively buzzing from head—where Declan had kissed her—to toe.

  Chapter 10

  Declan

  Declan wanted to smother Maggie with kisses, show her how special she was, and bring her dreams to life. But she was resistant, clouded by something that he couldn’t put his finger on. Like one of the onions in the stew he’d made, there was more to her, more she wasn’t revealing. Though she was more like a flower he wanted to see bloom than an onion.

  He clapped his hand on his face, awash with thoughts, with longing, with images of Maggie in his head.

  His mind churned all night, starting with his visit to see Aunt Sheila. She’d taught him to celebrate the passing from life to death—so long as the person had lived long and well. Even so, knowing that he’d soon lose her stung. But she’d soon meet her Lord and Savior and someday they too would be reunited in Heaven—if he atoned for everything he’d done. She’d taught him that death wasn’t the end. He had to believe that. He clung to the hope that was true with every fiber of his faith because the one person he’d known that deserved to live, had died. Siobhan. He wasn’t lying when he’d told Maggie it had broken him—though not what. Aunt Sheila and Jesus put him back together. But he still carried shame, guilt, and would never be able to forgive himself. It was no surprise that Cole hadn’t been able to do so either.

  That led him to think about his oldest friend—if he could call him that. He supposed that Cole’s troubled soul was finally at peace. Could Declan ever find peace and forgiveness? He doubted it and Maggie could never know what had happened. It was just as well she didn’t relay the entirety of the message. He didn’t want her to glimpse that part of his past.

  Then he circled back to Maggie. He felt strongly for her in a way that he hadn’t since Siobhan. It had been fifteen years. His first love. But never a day passed when he didn’t think of her. What would it mean to let Maggie into his heart? Was there enough room for both of them?

  Declan tossed and turned all night. At dawn, despite the hearty stew, Declan’s growling stomach kept him awake. When he was a lad in Dublin, so many nights, he went to bed hungry. Starving. For food, warmth, and love. Was his hunger just a reflex at being back in Ireland? A vestige of the kid he was the last time he was in the country? Certainly, he was plenty warm in the luxury townhome. As for love...?

  Maggie’s image with her summer strawberry blond hair, hazel eyes, and lovely curves sprung to mind. His lips blistered when he’d brought them to her head in a gentle kiss. He wanted to kiss her again, but he knew he’d have to earn it and show her that she was worth it. A plan formed in his mind. Thankfully, the pantry was fully stocked.

  He had the Irish stew recipe memorized thanks to Aunt Sheila. He’d gotten into the habit of making it for them when she’d return from working as a flight attendant back in Boston. But a carrot cake recipe was one he had to look up on the internet. Thankfully, he had the press and fridge stocked, including fresh carrots from the market.

  He mixed and stirred the ingredients, trying to be quiet so he didn’t wake Maggie up. At last, the cake came out of the oven, filling the air with the scent of caramel, cinnamon, and spices. Next, he put together the cream cheese icing. Nothing about carrot cake made sense. He’d put carrots in the stew, after all. Then again, nothing about him and Maggie made sense either, yet somehow, he felt like maybe they were meant to be together.

  At last, she appeared, still wearing her Disney sweatshirt. “It smells like...” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open like she might just drool. Still fuzzy from sleep, she looked adorable.

  “Carrot cake,” he announced, gesturing to it on the table. He’d just managed to get it frosted and topped with a sprinkling of toasted walnuts before she appeared.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked. “It’s not the official carrot cake day. That’s in February.”

  He chuckled inwardly. Of course, she’d know that. “I figured we could have it for breakfast.”

  “We can’t eat cake for breakfast.”

  “My house my rules.” He winked. “Plus, it’s the Official Maggie Day.”

  “What?” A crease formed between her eyes like she was confused.

  “Yep. It’s on the Irish Register of official days.”

  “Really?”

  He smirked. “Is now.”

  The concern on her face bloomed into a smile. “Well, I suppose it’s only fitting considering it’s my birthday.”

  “What?” he asked, echoing her question from a few moments earlier.

  “I thought maybe you knew or that Katerina told you.”

  He lowered to the chair at the table. His eyes narrowed as he remembered why the name Katerina sounded familiar. Wolf thought she was hot but bossy. Then again, he probably liked that about her. “The headmistress,” he declared.

  “And my boss.” Maggie sat down opposite him.

  “Since it’s your birthday and the official Maggie day, I give you the day off.”

  “I have a month-long contract with you. We’re barely two weeks in. Afterward, I’ll get some time off.”

  “My house my rules,” he repeated.

  She eyed the cake. “How about an hour? I take an hour off.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “We can start there, but we’ll see about any further negotiations.”

  “By the way, I gave you a stellar report yesterday and not because I was feeling guilty about lying. At least you didn’t fire me for not telling you everything from the voicemail. You were the picture of kindness and compassion—especially with your aunt.”

  “I figured it wouldn’t go over well if I walked in and squirted her with water guns.”

  Maggie laughed.

  “Ah, so am I forgiven for my grand entrance?” he asked, smirking.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Is the way to your heart carrot cake?”

  “And laughter.”

  “I knew it was worth it to make you laugh.” He jumped up from the chair and tore through the kitchen looking for a candle until he found one. “I owe you a birthday wish,” he said before breaking into the happy birthday song and serenading her. Declan drew her from the chair and they danced around the kitchen. Then, without letting go of her hand, he cut a slice of cake and fed her a bite.

  Sh
e giggled and smiled, her cheeks growing rosy. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he couldn’t sit still. Nor could he let her go.

  As they sashayed across the tile floor, her palm pressed against his provided him with an anchor he’d never before had when in Ireland.

  Her smile brought him joy, along with her laughter. Her eyes sparkled as he hoisted her onto a chair, spinning around like a delighted madman, singing at the top of his lungs. He was like a man in a musical, only this was real life and he couldn’t imagine wanting to give Maggie anything other than the happiest birthday.

  After releasing the last note of the song, he took her by the waist to lower her back down to the floor, but he didn’t let her go. He held her so that they stood face to face. The charge rushing through him turned into tingles. It was as though an electrical force drew them closer until the space separating them was narrow enough for little more than a whisper.

  “You have a bit of frosting on your lip,” he said.

  Her mouth parted. Her eyes met his.

  He closed the space between them as he kissed her lips.

  She was sweet, tentative, but gave back as the moment stretched into another and another.

  His heart raced as though it was expanding, growing, making room for her when before it had been a small, closed thing, protecting what precious love he’d once had.

  He lowered her to sit on the table.

  She circled her arms around him, but they didn’t break contact as the kiss continued.

  His palms skimmed her silky hair before gripping her jaw in both hands as he deepened the kiss.

  She curled into him, cementing the intensity between them.

  His pulse went mad as it throbbed with a simple truth. Declan loved Maggie Byrne.

  At last, they parted and she whispered, “I don’t need a birthday wish. I got what I wanted.”

  He smiled a real smile for the first time since arriving in Ireland, maybe for the first time there ever.

  They shared the rest of the slice of cake.

  “This has to be the happiest birthday I’ve ever had.”

  “But there’s more. It’s only just begun,” he said.

  “I took an hour off work. I don’t think I should take any more time.”

  “That’s okay. I have to go on a shopping spree and you have to help me because I’m looking for clothes that are—” His gaze trailed the length of her, sizing her up. “Well, your size.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He nodded.

  She cocked an eyebrow, “So you’re saying that you have a pet llama who wears my size clothing?”

  He bent over with a laugh. “I like this playful side of you.”

  “It’s my birthday. I try to let my hair down. But you can’t take me on a shopping spree.”

  “I can,” he said with a wink. “Go on, get ready. I’ll have the car pick us up in thirty minutes.”

  She sighed like that sounded about as appealing as falling in a fountain while dressed as Cinderella and having it captured on film. But she went to the adjacent flat nonetheless.

  A half-hour later, Maggie and Declan swept into the day. Like the moon the night before, the sun sparkled on the water in the harbor.

  “I always liked it here. I’ll have to show you around later. It doesn’t seem like a whole lot has changed.”

  “Why don’t we do that now instead of shopping?”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  “I don’t need anything,” she countered.

  “I came from the humblest beginnings and I want to spoil you.”

  Her expression flickered like a candle guttering from an ill wind.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She gazed out the car window.

  “Let me treat you. It makes me happy.”

  She still didn’t turn back to face him.

  He laced his fingers around hers, drawing her away from whatever had dimmed her light and toward him.

  She blinked back sadness as though chasing away a memory. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever casting a shadow over Maggie’s sunny personality. She was so perky, cheerful. She celebrated all the official days of the year and tolerated his nonsense. However, since they’d arrived in Ireland, she seemed slightly sullen. Maybe it was that she still felt bad about not telling him about the voicemail. But he’d forgiven her. Maybe she couldn’t forgive herself. He understood that perfectly. Or perhaps it was a memory of losing someone like Aunt Sheila. He understood that too.

  At last, she spoke. “It’s just that birthdays are hard. In fact,” she bit her lip, “I stopped telling people when mine was a long time ago.”

  “But you told me. Does that mean you trust me?”

  She nodded slowly as though just realizing it then.

  “Maggie, you said wherever I go you go.”

  “I guess that makes me your ride or die,” she breathed as though maybe she knew what that meant to him, but how could she?

  It was her birthday and yet she was giving him the biggest gift. Her.

  He leaned in and kissed her again with all the love in his heart. He just hoped it was enough.

  Maggie proved to be a tough customer, but he managed to sneakily purchase several of the outfits she’d tried on in the various shops on Grafton street.

  Whatever she was supposed to be teaching for the etiquette lessons were out the window, but he was the picture-perfect gentleman—he could be when he wanted to be with thanks to Aunt Sheila, so Maggie wouldn’t have been able to find any flaws anyway.

  After lunch at a fish and chips place, they toured the city. They visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral, strolled through the Trinity College grounds, stopped to see the Book of Kells, and then arrived outside a bakery. The scent of loaves of bread and cakes filtered from inside.

  Maggie gazed wistfully through the shop window. Balloons reached the ceiling and the strains of happy birthday came from a little kid’s party.

  After hearing her story about the lousy ex-boyfriend who’d dashed her mobile cupcake shop dreams, it likely wasn’t because she was particularly hungry or in need of more cake.

  She wore a sad smile when she turned to him. “Want to go visit your aunt?”

  “But it’s your birthday.”

  “She’s family. Plus you said that you talk to her every day. While you’re here and while she’s still here, you should visit her every day.” The gravity in her tone kept him from asking if she was sure she wanted to do that. “I’d also like to hear a few more stories.” She patted the buttons on his jacket and started off as though it had been decided.

  It meant everything that she wanted to visit his aunt. The hospice was only a short walk away and it had started to drizzle so they hurried along the street.

  Aunt Sheila was delighted and regaled them with stories—including one about Declan’s eighteenth birthday. “We flew standby to Bermuda—” she started.

  “Mind you, I’d only been on a plane once before when I flew with a one-way ticket from Dublin to Boston so that trip was a big deal,” he interjected.

  “I wanted to show him that there was more to the world than the mean streets where he grew up. Nothing against these streets. They’re home, but he’d found his way to the worst of them.” Aunt Sheila slowly shook her head.

  “You helped me find my way out.”

  “And,” she pointed a crooked finger at the cross over her head.

  “And big J,” he said.

  Aunt Sheila smiled. “My intention was to show him that by focusing on faith, working hard, and being the best version of himself, all things were possible. He could be a pilot, live in a place like Bermuda, or—” She coughed fitfully.

  Declan finished for her, knowing exactly where she was going with the story. “On our flight back we were rerouted because of a storm.”

  “Oh, the strings I had to pull for that one.” Aunt Sheila smirked.

  “So there wasn’t a storm?” Maggie asked.


  “The Carolina Storm and the Boston Bruisers at the Super Bowl.” Declan smiled.

  “Pulled some strings for those tickets too. And since he’d moved to Boston, he’d become quite the American football fan. Good at it too.”

  “So you basically had a birthday extravaganza.”

  “I wanted to make up for lost time. We had eighteen years’ worth of birthday celebrations to pack into four days. That’s how long I had off from work.”

  “She’s a saint,” Declan said, smiling fondly at his aunt.

  “Well, I’m not so sure about that yet.” She coughed again.

  Declan’s heart hiccupped. He knew she only had so much time left.

  “It’s Maggie’s birthday. Let’s hear about her best birthday memory,” Aunt Sheila said.

  “Today. Today has been the best day,” she answered. That sad smile was back.

  “She’s the sweetest,” Aunt Sheila said to Declan. Then turned to Maggie. “No, I mean from when you were a lass. What did your parents do for you? They’re big on birthday parties over there in the States.”

  Maggie shook her head slowly.

  Aunt Sheila entered a violent coughing fit and a doctor came in to check on her. Once she was settled, Declan said goodnight so she could rest. Concern for his aunt pierced his chest and worry about Maggie filled his mind.

  Chapter 11

  Maggie

  During the next week, Declan had to increase his workouts since he intended to stay on the team and start training for the upcoming season. He also attended a few press events. More than once, it was obvious he restrained himself from the usual hijinks the Boston Bruiser’s wide receiver was known for. However, he handled his public appearances without any commentary or instruction from Maggie. It almost felt like she wasn’t on the job. Rather, she was traveling around Ireland with her boyfriend. Him.

  The highlight of the next week was the frequent, stolen kisses from Declan when they were alone. She never knew something as simple as a pair of lips pecking her cheek, the space behind her ear, her temple, forehead, the top of her head, her lips...could ignite her in such a way. She hadn’t stopped grinning in days and felt like she was living in a fairy tale.