The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances

by Lucy McConnell

  He often used noise-cancelling headphones when travelling for away games. The hordes of reporters said some nasty things that were hard to ignore. Blocking them was better than punching them in the face for commenting about his mom. Not that anyone could find a truthful negative name to call her. For a while there, after he’d made it to the pros, his dad put together a fantastic smear campaign—the kind that created monsters out of men.

  It was a miracle he hadn’t been cut from the team because of the drama, and it took years of exemplary behavior for the fans to see that the true monster was his dad. Of course, they didn’t know the full extent of his monstrosities, and London would keep it that way.

  Today wasn’t his best day, and London felt himself dragging into the darkness his father always managed to bring into his life. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by; the man was a walking ooze of sadness that spread to London despite his efforts to keep it away. What he needed was some ooze repellant.

  Something small and warm touched his arm, making him jump out of the deep hole of contemplation like a rabbit out of a fox’s den. “Aah!” He yanked the ear protectors to hang around his neck and glared down at Maia.

  Maia? His heart paused, waiting to see if this was for real.

  She giggled. That throaty, downright attractive giggle that undid him. Every. Time.

  “What the …?”

  She saluted. Her right hand wore a lime-green gardening glove. “Sergeant Maia reporting for clean-up duty, sir.”

  He glanced over her shoulder to see April, the traitorous personal assistant, and another woman also wearing gardening gloves. They too wielded brooms and a dustpan.

  Maia’s down-home wholesome smile lit her face. “I brought new recruits.”

  London’s brain smoked as he tried to make sense of Maia standing right here in front of him, wearing a sweet little dress and a can-do attitude. “Are you serious right now?” He took her slim shoulders in his big hands and kneaded her arms in an effort to convince himself that she was real. “You seriously flew to Texas to help me clean up Mom’s flower shop? That might be the biggest, grandest, most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  She squirmed. “Technically, I was already in Texas when I heard about what happened.”

  Wait—she was in Texas?

  “Yeah—but she made the driver break the law at least seven times on the way here,” added the gray-haired woman he didn’t know. She flicked her high ponytail over her shoulder and huffed. “And she put him to work.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, sending London’s gaze that direction.

  A small, round man knelt in a gray driver’s uniform, prying up the cracked pathway stones with a screwdriver. He already had a small pile of them to his right.

  London tipped his head back and laughed before pulling Maia into his arms and hugging the stuffing out of her. She’d come. She came. She saw his need and she brought her bright, smiling face right on over without hesitation. Well, maybe she’d hesitated, but he didn’t care, because the end result was that she was here. During the frog and princess movie, he’d debated asking for her phone number. He was going to do it, too—the bright sparks between their clasped hands were like a coach on the sideline yelling at him to get a move on. Only, Coach wasn’t screaming at him to tackle a receiver; he was prodding London to keep Maia from slipping away.

  And then he’d gotten the text from his mom about the break-in and had to dash to make the late flight to Dallas out of LAX. He hadn’t even stopped at the hotel to pick up his suitcase, instead arranging for it to be shipped.

  “London!” Maia squeaked.

  He lifted her off her feet and spun her around. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “What’s going on out here?” Mom called as she entered the yard from the shop. He carried Maia over to his mom, walking backward so he didn’t give away the surprise, and set her down gently.

  “Look who came to help.” He beamed as he stepped aside to reveal Maia. He couldn’t help but smile with all his soul. Maia was here. She’d come—for him.

  Mom yelped and threw her arms around Maia. “My darling girl! What are you doing here? Let me look at you.” She released Maia from the rocking hug and cupped her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here. Look, London, Maia!”

  London chuckled. “I know.” He’d forgotten how much his mom loved Maia all those years ago. They’d soaked each other in like long-lost besties. Mom had had to be careful with her affection in front of Dad, but she didn’t hold back when she had the chance. And Maia never held back. She was brave with her love, no matter who was watching. He’d admired that about her.

  “What are you doing here?” Mom clutched both of Maia’s hands with her own.

  Maia laughed away the happy tears gathering on her lower lashes. “Well—”

  “Do not cry and ruin all my hard work,” threatened the new girl. She and April were picking up the broken path pieces the driver set aside and dumping them in the rubber trash can. He, having removed what needed to go, was busy pouring sand into the holes and leveling it off. London was impressed.

  “That’s Kristi, my stylist.” Maia indicated the spunky one in gloves with a tip of her head.

  London furrowed his brow as he looked at the small crew Maia hauled around with her. A personal assistant, a stylist, and a driver who apparently was a stonemason in a past life. They chatted together, happily working on making The Flower Pot a better place. They were exactly the type of people Maia would attract. Light attracts light. And they filled this place with their glow, banishing the darkness Dad had left in his destructive wake.

  “Anyway, I was doing a segment with Waking Up with Dallas and someone mentioned London going to the premiere with me, which brought up London playing for the Titans, which brought up the story they’d done on your store.” She paused to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry, Karen. You don’t deserve this kind of random violence. I hope they catch whoever did it and throw the bookshelf at them.”

  “I think you mean throw the book at them,” London corrected.

  “No, I think a whole bookshelf would be better.” Maia smirked and brushed her palms together. “So, where should we start?” She looked around, seeing her little group of followers diligently putting the place back together. “Oh, they’ve started without me.” She frowned at her entourage.

  Karen kissed her on both cheeks. “You’ve already been a huge help, just showing up and making us all smile again—you’re a special kind of sunshine.”

  “I’ve missed you.” Maia hugged her fiercely. “I want to hear everything you’ve done over the last ten years.”

  To her credit, Mom’s smile didn’t falter. How she managed to keep the abuse, the police reports, the court dates, and general misery behind that smile was beyond him. “That’s going to have to wait until we have time for some herbal tea and girl talk.”

  “It’s a date.” Maia nodded.

  London took Maia’s hand and tugged her toward where he was rebuilding or fixing the tables. “You can help me with construction.”

  Karen made her way over to the man on the floor. “Can I get you all something to drink?”

  Their answers were drowned out by the air compressor as it kicked on. Maia covered her ears and yelled, “What are we constructing?”

  He flipped off the compressor and his ears rang. “Several of the tables were destroyed or broken. I’m putting them back together.”

  “We’re putting them back together.” Maia grinned.

  “You’re in a dress.”

  “Pft. Didn’t you see Jurassic World? Women can save the world in heels and dresses.”

  He rolled his eyes, feeling playful. “Name one other woman who can do battle in a dress.”

  “Wonder Woman.”

  He lifted one eyebrow in challenge. “You call that a dress?”

  She giggled, and his heart about jumped out of his chest in an effort to be closer to her. “Fine, miniskirt. B
ut it counts.”

  Basking in her happiness was like walking onto the perfect day at the beach—warm, clean, inviting, and filled with the promise of fun. He pulled her to his chest and hugged her again. “You’re still stubborn.”

  “And you’re still buff.” Her hands flattened against his chest.

  He laughed. “It’s part of the job.” Everything was just right when Maia was in his arms. That’s just all there was to it. He hadn’t gone to the premiere believing that there could be anything left between them, not after the heartbreak he’d caused. But standing here in his mom’s yard, holding Maia against him and feeling her pulse pound in time with his, he believed in second chances.

  She sucked in a ragged breath. “We should probably get to work.”

  His arms went slack. They used to be on the same wavelength—being able to hold a conversation with little more than eye contact and the touch of a hand. But if she was thinking about working, then they were most definitely not thinking about the same things.

  He took the ear protectors off and placed them on Maia’s head. They were much too big and flopped down, dragging her hair over her eye. She laughed and pushed them back up. With a slight adjustment, they stayed in place.

  “What are you going to wear?” she yelled.

  He chuckled and pulled one earpiece out to the side. “You don’t have to yell. I can still hear you.”

  “Oh.” She puffed her bangs off her forehead and he let the earpiece settle back in place.

  “I have an extra set in my tool belt.” He turned on the compressor and picked up his tool belt, securing it around his middle.

  Maia’s eyes rounded and she glanced quickly away.

  “What?” He looked himself over.

  “Nothing.”

  Oh no she didn’t. He folded his arms to wait her out.

  “Stop that!” She swatted at him.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop with the Mr. November impersonation.” She fanned her face. “You’re overheating Texas.”

  Mr. What?

  She shoved him, though it didn’t move him at all, and neither did it help clear up his confusion. “If I wanted a calendar full of football players in tool belts striking poses, I’d ask for one for Christmas.”

  Now it was his turn to blush. “I’m not trying to pose for you.” What did she think, that he couldn’t wait to flex? That he was some kind of mindless football player who only cared about his next set of squats and a protein drink?

  She sighed. “That’s what makes it so impressive. You can’t help it.”

  Okay, that might have melted him. He’d forgotten how easily Maia handed out compliments—like she had no filter. Which was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place. Every day he watched what he said, where he stepped, who he talked to for how long—even how loudly he chewed his food. He was constantly aware of his body, his voice, and his actions. Not Maia. She was free. Free and flying through life. Man, she was beautiful.

  Is beautiful, he amended as he watched her capture her tongue between her front teeth as she examined his work.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maia kept her gaze on the planks, certain that they were much safer, even with their jagged edges, than seeing that look in London’s eyes again. How one man could possess that much magnetism was well beyond the laws of physics. It was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. And, to be fair, the adult versions of London and Maia were strangers.

  Except he didn’t feel like a stranger. Being with him was as easy as singing through warm-up scales. They’d always been able to talk and tease, and their grown-up selves hadn’t forgotten that fine art.

  His touch was familiar and yet it sent her heart into a crazy samba, complete with sashaying hips and hand flourishes. Man, it was hot in Texas!

  “Will you hold this down so I can nail it in place?”

  Maia glanced at the tabletop, where several other boards had already been set as she held the board down. “How’d you do this before I got here?” she asked over the pop-hiss of the nail gun.

  He smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, he popped nails into the other end and reached for another board. Maia dropped her chin to her chest to hide her grin. He’d invented a job that would keep her close. While she was mildly insulted to be of less use than a clamp, she was thrilled he wanted to be with her.

  The table itself was kind of ingenuous. He’d dismantled several wood pallets, probably ones that would have been thrown out. The table base was just wide enough that he didn’t have to cut the pallet wood at all; he could just lay the slat on top and secure it in place.

  They were running out of boards. Rather than interrupt London’s rhythm, she headed over to retrieve a few more slats, grateful she wore gloves because the wood wasn’t exactly manicure friendly.

  She lifted as many as she could and hurried back. On the way, her wedge rolled on an uneven paving stone, causing her to fall forward and to the side. The wood fell from her hands as she scrambled to catch herself. Instead of hitting the ground, she slammed into one of the damaged tables, her palms burning on impact.

  A moment later, the reality of something in her thigh lit up her pain receptors. She bit down the scream and breathed like a raging bull through her nose. Moving in any direction was impossible. Forward would send the wood deeper into her flesh. Backward would release a flood of blood. And either side would tear a larger hole. Her legs were numb and her head went fuzzy.

  “London?” she called, her voice sounding far, far away. In a haze of pain, she watched as blood oozed out of the wound, soaking the light wood. Her arms began to shake. “London?” The volume increased, fueled by irrational thoughts of dying right there. Although passing out was a real option.

  The air compressor shut off just as she called his name one more time. He turned to her, made a quick assessment, and hurtled two tables to wrap his arm gently around her for support. Heavens, he was big and strong and so heart-meltingly tender.

  “Holy …” He stared down at her leg. “How in the …?”

  Maia gritted her teeth as tears blurred her vision of his neck. There was a thick vein just under his beautiful skin that throbbed quickly.

  “We’ve got to pull it out.”

  She fisted her hands, unable to lift them off the wood for fear of falling farther forward. “I can’t.”

  He cursed. “April!” His bellow could be heard two states over.

  April jumped. “Sheesh. You don’t—” Whatever reprimand she was going to hand out died on her lips.

  “Go inside, get a package of clean paper towels and my mom.”

  April nodded once and was off faster than the Road Runner.

  Sweat pooled in unmentionable places. The driver and Kristi rushed over.

  “What can I do?” asked Allister, the driver.

  April arrived, panting, and thrust the package of paper towels at London. He handed them off to Allister, who watched with great concern. “Open those.”

  Allister tore the plastic and did his best to keep his dirty hands off the white towels.

  Mom arrived with a first aid kit and did a mom-like inspection. “This isn’t going to cut it. She needs stitches.”

  “Yep.” A rim of white appeared around London’s pressed lips. “Okay, honey, I’m going to take you off of there.”

  Maia tried her best to hold back the ocean of fear. The pain was already intense, and she didn’t think she could stand taking it up a notch. A whimper sounded in the back of her throat.

  London clenched his eyes shut. “I can’t do this if it’s going to hurt you.”

  Karen leaned across the table from the side so she could put both her hands over the top of Maia’s and make direct eye contact. Her soft, earthy scent mixed with a peony-based perfume overpowered the tangy smell of fresh blood, allowing Maia to draw a full, deep breath. “You’re strong, baby girl. You can do this. Trust my boy. Okay?”

  Maia blocked out all the worried f
aces around her as London’s firm hands encircled her leg. His fingers were long and strong and warm against her trembling skin. She needed him so badly right now, needed his inner strength. He’d always been tough, always been able to take a hit on the field and come right back. He was a fighter. She imagined herself alongside him on the field, and drew on his bravery. With a small nod, she whispered, “Do it.”

  London pulled her leg free. There was a moment of reprieve as her body adjusted to the change, and then a volcano erupted in the wound, spewing hot blood over the edge of her jagged skin. She trapped her cry of agony behind her teeth, muffling the sound but not extinguishing it.

  London scooped her into his arms and pressed his forehead to hers. “Hang in there, honey. I promise it’s almost over.”

  Maia wrapped her arms around his neck, doing all she could to focus on the feel of being in London’s arms. She pressed her palm to his cheek, willing her mind to block out the pain.

  Allister used a white towel to apply pressure to the wound. She hissed.

  “Aw, love.” London’s voice sounded like he was coming undone. He needed her to be brave, and that fueled her resolve.

  She lifted her head off his shoulder. “April, call ahead to the hospital and tell them we need a private room.” The press would go nuts if they found out. They’d probably find out anyway, but there was no sense clogging up the emergency room entrance with paparazzi.

  London lurched into a fast walk towards the parking lot. Allister, the driver, hurried to keep up so he could keep his hand over the gash. The poor guy had to take three steps for every one of London’s. A trickle of sweat traveled down the side of his face. April, Kristi, and Karen all followed closely behind.

  “Kristi, head back to the hotel and pick up a change of clothes. Find me some flats and loose-fitting pants.” She had to walk out of the hospital on her own two feet. Days and days of promotional appearances stretched out before her. Her mouth became a desert just thinking of standing onstage tomorrow night.

  “What should I do?” asked Allister.