The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances

by Lucy McConnell

  “Do you picnic in the stadium every day?”

  “Naw, today was a once-in-the-off-season opportunity. I may have to volunteer with the custodial crew to pay back the favor.”

  “You’d look cute pushing a broom around. You wanna come inside and clean the kitchen?”

  He pulled back so he could look in her face. “Are you inviting me in?” His eyes grew heavy with suggestion.

  A slow burn started in her lower belly. “I—I—”

  His composure cracked and he smirked. “I’m kidding. I’m not that kind of a guy. Really, you think I put out on the first date?” He pushed her shoulder playfully.

  “Do you … put out?” she asked. Throughout the afternoon she’d learned quite a bit about him, some of it surprising. She hadn’t thought he was the type of guy to seduce women—he always seemed to take their kisses seriously, like they meant something much more than a cheap thrill. Like she was worth more than her kisses.

  His smirk melted away, replaced by a look of thoughtful sincerity.

  She looked down, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. That was too personal for a first date.”

  His large hands settled on her waist. “No, honey. I do not put out.”

  She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.

  His eyebrows lowered. “And put out is a bristly phrase coming out of your perfect mouth.” He traced his thumb over her upper lip, sending a shiver up her spine. “Please, don’t feel like you can’t ask me a question. I will always tell you the truth.”

  A shadow crossed his eyes, one she’d seen long ago. A shadow that hinted at a darkness inside London she could never touch. It was gone as quickly as it came, making her doubt if she’d seen it in the first place or if her memory had put it there.

  Choosing to go with the whole first date/getting reacquainted theme for the night, she pushed her worries aside and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Good night, London.”

  He held her to his ever-loving, perfectly shaped chest. She loved the hardness of his body and the way it contrasted with the softness of his heart.

  “Good night.” He kissed her cheek.

  She hobbled through the door and turned so she could smile and wave at him before shutting it all the way.

  “Did you have fun?” asked April. She hopped off the couch and followed Maia into her bedroom, pulling the comforter down. The kind gesture wasn’t lost on Maia. April took on tasks above and beyond her written job description because she was a nurturer. She would have made a fantastic pediatric nurse.

  Maia stared at her shoes, reliving the feel of London behind her, strong and solid. “I did.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  Maia sat on the bed and hugged a pillow to her middle. “Of course.” They were starting anew, beginning again, testing uncharted waters—together.

  April pushed her glasses up her nose. “Well, I’m not sure when that’s going to happen—unless he plans to tag along with us tomorrow.” She picked up the other pillow and began to fluff.

  Speaking of uncharted waters, Maia hadn’t had a serious relationship while dubbing the film. In truth, she hadn’t had much of any kind of relationship before then either. Between filming and the premiere, she’d gone out with a couple guys, mostly Hollywood types with high-profile names. They were good guys. Most of them were regular people looking for a match. Maia hadn’t been into any of them enough to be their headlining woman. If she’d learned anything, it was that two high-profile people dating are to the media like honey to a bear. And like a bear, reporters would tear her apart if they got wind of drama.

  “He won’t be tagging along.” She smoothed the pillowcase with flat hands. “We’ll work something out, I’m sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll just wait to hear.”

  “What did you do tonight?” Maia asked.

  “I binge-watched Stranger Things.”

  Maia covered her ears. “No spoilers.”

  “On my honor.” April laughed as she held her hand up in a scout’s salute. Her laughter died off slowly. “Aaron called.”

  A sense of urgency entered the otherwise peaceful room with its white comforter and softwood flooring. Aaron was her liaison with the studio. He was, in a word, uptight. “What did he want?”

  “To talk to you, of course. I told him you were recuperating.”

  Maia bit back a curse. She ran her fingers over the bandage on her thigh. She should have been recuperating. Instead, she was out chasing a childish crush on the football field. When would she ever learn? She touched her lips; London loved to brush his thumb over them, and she loved the feel of his finger on her lips. As long as his touch lit a fire inside of her, she’d be subject to his charm. “Thanks. I should be ready to go tomorrow.”

  “I’ve already booked a horribly early flight for all of us.” April paused. “You’re supposed to dance onstage with Franz in two days.”

  She chewed her thumbnail. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t pop these stitches. The plastic surgeon will kill me.”

  “Not to mention the studio. You weren’t supposed to put yourself in danger.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t like I meant to run into a jagged piece of wood.”

  “You meant to go to a crime scene.”

  “When you put it that way, it sounds horrible. Let’s work on your version of the truth before Aaron calls back.”

  It was April’s turn to roll her eyes. “There are financial penalties to breaking your contract.”

  “I’m not worried about the money.”

  “How about your career? You worried about that? Hmm?”

  Maia knew all the clauses in her contract, both the written and unwritten ones. If she played by the rules, other parts would come her way. If she was hard to work with or earned a reputation as a party girl, she’d be dropped. “I am. Today was a one-time opportunity to play hooky.”

  April studied her for a moment before she headed for the door. “For what it’s worth, I’d play hooky for a guy who looked like that, too.” She shut the door behind her, and Maia was left alone with her thoughts.

  As great as London’s physique was—and it was great, like, really great—his body wasn’t the thing she liked the most. She liked that he’d thought through their date, given meaning to their time together, tried and succeeded at being romantic. There was no way he could have known Ed Sheeran was on her playlist, and yet he’d chosen that music for her. And then there was the whole symbolism of the fifty-yard line. He’d gone deep for the meaning behind their picnic and come up a winner in her book. She dropped into the fluffy pillows, too overcome with the giddiness inside to keep herself up.

  After replaying the whole day—twice—she allowed herself to think of the next step. The problem they were going to face would be falling too fast into a relationship. Parts of London were as familiar as the lines on her palm; others waited to be discovered. They needed to take their time and go slow.

  Her phone buzzed a text. She dove to retrieve it from her purse, biting her lips at the sting in her thigh. She rolled over with a groan, holding the screen above her face.

  Is it too soon to text? I thought it probably was, but I’m home and I brushed my teeth and I was shutting off the lights and thought maybe you’d be up.

  She giggled. I’m up.

  Whew. What are you doing tomorrow?

  Traveling. She added a frowny face emoji.

  Harsh.

  You know it.

  When are you coming back?

  She pulled a pillow under her head. I’ll have to ask April.

  I’ll ask her.

  Maia’s eyebrows about jumped off her forehead. She rolled to the side, looking for the bottle of Advil on the nightstand. Keeping on top of the pain was so much easier than catching up to it. She swallowed two pills, dry, and her phone buzzed.

  Groan. It will be forever.

  Sorry! I don’t set the schedule. She worked to access the bandage. She was supposed to
change the dressing tonight before she went to bed.

  I get that—Titans rule my calendar during the season.

  An ice cube of worry worked its way down her back. Their lives were so full. By the time she was done with the majority of her promotional tour, he’d be playing ball. Hypothetically, she could follow him from game to game or meet him in Texas when he was home. Her limbs grew heavy with the weight of it all. She rubbed her eyes. Things would look easier in the morning. She was tired and sore and needed sleep.

  Her phone chirped and Aaron’s face appeared. Fighting the panic that now had her wide awake, she typed: Boss man is calling. Gotta go, before clicking over. “Aaron! It’s good to hear from you.” She forced her voice into controlled cheerfulness. She was supposed to be sick, so too much enthusiasm would be a signal something was off.

  “You too, Maia. I was beginning to worry when your assistant insisted you were napping into the evening.”

  Aaron could have been the voice for Darth Vader, minus the creepy breathing. That would have made talking on the phone with him way weird. “No need to worry. My throat is already feeling great.”

  “I’m glad. You don’t sound sick.”

  “Nope. I’ve hardly said a word to my staff all day.” She prayed that a grammatically correct statement would pass at the Pearly Gates.

  “Good. Save your voice.”

  “I plan on it.” She stared down at the white bandage, so bright against her dark skin. “Thanks for being so understanding about this little layover.” And not sending someone to check on me.

  “We don’t want you to get sick, Maia. You’re important to us.”

  “Thank you. I feel the same way about the studio. The movie was a huge opportunity I don’t take lightly.” She pulled back the bandage, cringing as it tugged at her skin. What she found was a tangle of black thread and skin covered in a thin layer of shiny glue. The doc swore his strange configuration would minimize scarring. She hoped it would hold out.

  “I know you don’t. If you’re ready, we’ll be on a plane tomorrow morning.”

  “I think April has already made flight arrangements.”

  “I’ll have my assistant call her and get the specifics. That won’t give you much time. Chicago is a matinée.”

  “I don’t need a lot of prep time—it should be fine.”

  “If you’re sure …”

  “I’m sure. And I’ll make sure April texts you updates.”

  The tension seeping through the phone line like the smell from a backed-up drain disappeared. Aaron’s voice lightened as much as Darth Vader’s could. “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

  “Great. Thanks for checking up on me. I’ll talk to you later.” They said a quick goodbye and Maia tossed her phone to the side, ticked. Not so much at Aaron, although he was pushy and insistent, and she didn’t buy his claim to have worried about her as much as he worried about Princess Fenella. No, she was more ticked at herself for signing a binding contract that took her away from London right when she’d found him again.

  She sighed. Maybe it was for the best. She could use some help taking things slowly with him—he was too darn irresistible for her own good.

  Chapter Seventeen

  London was back at his mom’s flower shop. The place had been mostly cleaned up. They’d hired Maia’s driver, Allister, of all people to finish the repairs on the brick walkway. He spent his off hours on his knees doing a better job than the first installer. Mom felt safe around him, and London liked that he’d been there when the store was closed, keeping an eye on things.

  Though short, Allister was street tough. His intimidating edge probably helped him as a driver for the rich and famous. However, he also melted like a ten-year-old when Mom presented him with a plate of homemade cookies.

  Today was all about finishing the last of the pallet tables and filling the yard with flowers once more. The first thing he’d done when he arrived was take the pallet that had injured Maia, and any others with sharp edges, out to the dumpster. He then called to have it emptied ASAP. After that, he donned his tool belt and got to work.

  About an hour later, his phone rang and he sent it to the Bluetooth device around his neck so he could continue working. “This is London.”

  “Hello, London. This is Maia.”

  He set his tools down. “Well, hello there. Where are you?”

  “I am in a land far, far away.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “I know. I thought you’d appreciate the sadness factor.” Her chipper-ness was, once again, a bright spot in his day.

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Manageable.”

  “You’re so tough.”

  She laughed lightly. “Like someone else I know. What is it they call you? The Warrior?”

  London’s blood ran cold. He’d gotten the nickname in college because he’d been in a fight, and he showed up to a game the next day with a split lip and bruised cheek, among other injuries Coach didn’t know about, and didn’t complain once. He’d snagged two interceptions that game. They said he was unstoppable.

  “I’m guessing that’s because you conquer your opponents,” she added.

  “Among other things.” He hated that the pain made him focus, reminded him of all the times his dad had pushed him to be better. The game was a turning point for him. He vowed never to need pain to play his best; to prove he was better without his father than he’d ever been with him.

  “Oh?” Her tone was flirtatious. “What other things?”

  “I guess I can be relentless.”

  She laughed lightly. “You guess? Why don’t we call and ask Mrs. Beiste what she thinks?”

  “She gave me a C- because I missed a quiz for an away game. Teachers are supposed to work with student athletes when they are excused for school activities.”

  “You laid on the floor in front of her desk and refused to move until she let you take the quiz.”

  “It worked and I got a B+.”

  She chuckled. “Relentless.”

  He grinned. “You’re as bad as I am. The only difference between you and me is that you convinced the world to call you princess.”

  “Oooo, don’t call me princess! It sounds like ball gowns and seven golden forks at dinner.”

  “I seem to remember a certain princess wore a certain gown to the premiere that almost ate me.”

  “Some warrior—couldn’t even defend himself against my dress.”

  “That dress was a dragon,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. Maia’s peal of laughter was well worth the false irritation. “Where are you, Maia? I’ll be there before the clock strikes midnight.”

  “Why, are you afraid I’ll turn into a pumpkin?”

  He tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s all a dream and the magic will disappear. I want to hold you.”

  She gasped. “It is such a good thing we are miles apart right now.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because you are awfully hard to resist.”

  “It’s my general air of rugged handsomeness.”

  “Among other things.” Her words hummed in his ear as if she’d whispered them, her lips brushing his skin. He shivered with pleasure.

  Maia continued, “We need to take this slow.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “You will—listen.”

  He let out a low growl.

  Maia giggled. “Stop it. You sound like a beast. Hey, that could be your new nickname.”

  “Already taken.” Knox Sherman, the Titans’s running back, was nicknamed The Beast, and London had no desire to get on the guy’s bad side by charging into his territory. Everyone on the team, and half of Texas, knew not to step into Knox’s space without his permission—and he didn’t give permission.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Her fingers snapped. “Too bad.” She took a deep breath. “T
his is going to get really real for a second, so hang with me. I may have been thinking about you for the last ten years—on and off. You know, here and there.”

  London leaned against the table, enjoying every moment of Maia getting real. Short of admitting her undying love for him, admitting she’d thought about him while they were apart was the best news he’d heard in a long time. “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “Well, you said you wanted a new relationship, and I do, too. Only… a new relationship is difficult because we are pretty comfortable around one another.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem.”

  “How could you miss it? We’re in danger of burning ourselves out.”

  He shook his head before she stopped talking. “That’s not going to happen, Maia.”

  “If we move too fast and don’t build a foundation, it will. I’ve seen it happen with my mom over and over again. She goes on one date and suddenly has a boyfriend—one she usually helped support, by the way.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to mooch off you.”

  “I know you’re not after me for my money, London. But I don’t want to be my mom.”

  “Is that why no one knows your last name?”

  The silence stretched between them like a crazy-house mirror reflection. London held perfectly still, unable to see his next move.

  “I was better off without it.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Maia. But you could have turned around everyone’s idea of what the Esposito name stood for; I never looked at you and saw your mom.”

  “That’s probably for the best; because you kissed me, and if you pictured my mom, that would be weird,” she joked.

  London laughed with relief. “Yeah, I kissed you. Every chance I got.” Not every chance, his mind argued with him. Thankfully Maia didn’t echo his thoughts by saying them out loud.

  “Yeah, you did,” she said dreamily.

  He did a fist pump. That’s what I’m talking about. Dreamy Maia was one of his favorites.

  “Which is another reason we should stay apart for a few days between dates.”

  He groaned. “You’re killing me, beautiful.”