“Is that good?”
Veronica nods. “It’s great. And the blood work from her newborn screening shows no infectious or congenital diseases. She was healthy enough to leave the hospital with her mother.”
“That would show if she had any drugs in her too, right??”
She nods. “It would. Tatum, Rose was a very healthy baby when she entered this world. Why don’t we take a good look at her now and see how she’s faring? Alright?”
* * *
An hour later, I leave the pediatricians office with a sleeping baby. Rose had to get some immunizations and they knocked her out and Valerie said she might sleep most of the day.
In the car, I text Jessica thanking her for sending me to this office, then I look at the texts Aria sent.
Aria: At least my face is cut out. No one can tell it’s me.
A minute later she replies.
Aria: That sounded rude. Your face IS visible. Are you ok?
Then three minutes pass.
Aria: Sorry. Did your parents see? Teammates?
Not wanting to talk it over through text, I decide to swing over to her studio. I drive through a coffee stand and get a few mochas, realizing I don’t even know what kind of coffee she likes. When I get to her studio though, I frown, not seeing her Jeep. Instead, it’s Cleo’s car in the parking lot.
I unbuckle Rose’s car seat and carry her into the studio.
Cleo waves at me as she finishes up the class she was teaching. As the students file out, she approaches. “Hey, if you’re looking for Aria, she’s not here.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I mutter, suspicion building in my chest. Why would she lie to me? “Do you know where she is?”
Cleo shakes her head. “No, sorry. But I can leave her a message--”
“Don’t bother,” I say, turning and walking out the door.
I’ve been fucked over enough already by one Ryan sister. I don’t have time for lies and deceit from the other.
Chapter Twelve
Aria
“I’ll give you three hundred for it,” the guy behind the dirty plastic window says, as he inspects my grandmother’s ring. The place smells like body odor, old leather, and mothballs. From the way the balding man sneers at me, I know I came to the wrong place.
“Never mind,” I say. “I’ll go somewhere else.”
“Fine,” he mumbles. “Five hundred.”
“I did some research, and I know that I can get at least five thousand for it. So, just give me the ring back and I’ll go--”
“Two thousand and that’s my final offer.”
“Twenty-five hundred cash,” I say. Sure, I could go to other places, maybe get an extra thousand, but it’ll take time and with the debt Ashley has already incurred in my name, I need the money now.
Desperately.
I already sold my Jeep this morning.
And while I want to cry for the loss of it, it’s the ring that I hate giving up the most. But what else am I supposed to do?
The man behind the window pulls his lips over his yellow teeth and makes a sucking sound, his beady black eyes narrowing on me. He turns to his computer and types something in, studying whatever comes up on the screen, before finally nodding.
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in and watch him count the money.
My phone buzzes and I read the text from Cleo.
Cleo: Tatum was just here. He seemed upset.
Shit. I told him that I was teaching her classes. I hate that I lied to him, but what was I supposed to say? Sorry, I need to go pawn everything valuable that I own so that the debt collectors don’t come and break my legs looking for their money.
I’m not sure if that stuff happens in real life, but considering my luck, and the shit that Ash keeps getting herself into, I wouldn’t be surprised if the mob was waiting for me outside the pawn shop.
After I stuff the cash in my pocket, I head to the nearest bus stop. I text Tatum as I wait for the bus.
Me: Sorry I missed Rose’s appointment. Are you at home? Can I come over now?
I can tell when he opens the text, but he doesn’t respond.
Me: Cleo told me you stopped by the school. I can explain...
Still nothing.
The bus approaches and I wonder if I should just wait for the next one and go home. But after the day I had, I really want to see Tatum, even if he’s upset that I lied.
So, I get on the bus and sit down, put my earbuds in, and scroll through the article that Tatum sent me.
Who’s your Daddy? The headline reads, and under it is a dozen more questions and speculations about whose baby he’s holding, and who the woman in the photo is.
The pictures are blurry and you can’t see my face, but I know that now that the paparazzi have smelled a story, they’ll be hounding Tatum. I’m going to have to be a lot more careful. Back to baseball caps and oversized sunglasses.
It’s almost six by the time I get off the bus. It’s been years since I had to take public transportation and I’d forgotten how slow it can be. But Tatum still hasn’t messaged me back.
I use the key he gave me to get into the apartment. It’s quiet, and I wonder if maybe he isn’t here. But then the door to his bedroom opens and he walks out wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair damp, his muscles gleaming with droplets of water.
I’m pretty sure I forget to breathe. “Oh...I... sorry... you didn’t answer my text, so...”
His eyes soften for a second before they turn hard. He shuts the bedroom door, and I see his jaw clench before he turns and motions me to the kitchen.
I follow him, my mouth watering at the sight of his bare back, and I almost forget that he’s probably upset with me until he turns, and I see the anger in his eyes.
“Listen,” I start to explain. “I know that I--”
“You lied to me.”
“I did, but--”
“What else are you lying to me about?”
“Excuse me?”
He takes a step towards me, and even though my own frustration is building because of his accusations, my core clenches at the pure, masculine magnetism of the man.
“I asked you what else you’re lying about.” He lowers his head, studying me, but all the softness is gone.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit, Aria. Where were you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I fidget and take a step back.
“It matters enough that you lied about it.”
“Fine.” I toss my hands in the air, my emotions bursting like a dam and I’m unable to control them, or the tears and words that flood out of me. “You want to know where I was? This morning I was at the car dealership, and this afternoon I was at a pawn shop.” I swipe angrily at my cheeks, wiping away the dampness.
He straightens, but his eyes are still narrowed on me. “Why?”
“Because not only am I paying off credit cards and loans that my sister opened in my name, but I also have to pay off her hospital bill.” I inhale a shaky breath. “And there’s the whole stalker dude who broke into the dance studio--”
“What the hell? Someone broke into the studio? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh. “You’re dealing with enough right now. I didn’t want to put anything else on you.”
“Who was it?” he demands.
“I don’t know who he was, but he was looking for Ashley.”
“Did he threaten you?”
I glance away.
“Aria.” His hands are on my shoulders. “Did he threaten you?”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly selling Girl Scout cookies.”
“Fuck.” He blows out a breath and drags his hand through his hair, but the movement only makes his towel drop lower on his narrow hips. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ve known one another for less than a week. What do you want from me?”
As I ask the question heat fills his eyes. I need to lo
ok away since it burns so damn brightly. It’s clear what he wants.
What we both want.
I step back because this can’t happen.
We can’t happen. I may have had a moment of weakness the other night, but I’ve had time to think about it. The last thing I need is another complication in my life. And that’s exactly what Tatum Madden is.
“Tatum,” I say, unable to meet those green eyes that want to pull me towards him like a damn magnet. “I know I kept this from you, but it’s how I operate. I keep my head down and my chin up and take care of things on my own. I’m sorry I lied, but...”
“Don’t do it again.” He steps toward me and I pull in a sharp breath. “I’m a team player, Aria. I don’t let the guys on the field down, and I won’t let you down either. But you can’t keep things from me. Not if this is going to work.”
I don’t even know what this is.
“I need you to trust me, Aria,” he says. He’s so close. Too close. But I want him even closer. Instead of giving in to the temptation, I try my hardest to rebuild the walls that he’s already started to demolish around my tattered heart.
“You’re lucky that people always have your back.” I steel my spine. “But not everyone is so fortunate. Trust is earned, not just given.”
“Why are you insisting on pushing me away?” He takes another step toward me. Close enough to reach out and touch. I want him to pull me in his arms and hold me tight. So tightly, I can’t breathe. Tightly enough to believe, even for a minute, that I won’t fall.
I push my hair away from my face, looking up at this man who is so connected to Ashley. My sister who has bulldozed my life in every single sense of the word. Who knocked me down and pushed me around, and dammit, I’m tired of losing out because of her selfishness.
Standing here, so close to the one thing I do want, the one thing she isn’t holding in her hands, makes me want to reach out and take it for myself.
To take Tatum for myself.
Take what I want.
What I need.
But before I can, he does.
He pulls me to him and kisses me and I don’t pull back. Don’t ask him to stop. I drop my purse and peel off my jacket and lean in.
The kiss is long, hot, and intense. But I want more. I whimper with the need for him to consume me -- completely.
“You sure?” he asks, his hand on my neck, his towel falling fast.
“Yes. Please, yes.” My words are a pant, a whisper. A plea for Tatum to take me away from the mess of the day -- of selling my Jeep and my coveted ring and knowing I’ll use every last cent to pay off my sister’s debts. I need to disappear in him right now.
In this.
So, we do.
He is naked and soon, so am I. We kiss, moving to the couch. His body is a chiseled piece of perfection and I know he has an injury but as I straddle him on the couch, he is nothing but ripped muscles and strength.
“God, you’re hot,” I moan as he dips his head and kisses my breasts, squeezes my ass. Everything has happened in a hurry. The last few days have been nothing but intense. Of course, this is going to go one hundred miles per hour too.
“And here I thought you liked me for my personality,” he teases. Dimples. Smiles. Green eyes. Hard, hard cock.
“You’re insane,” I whimper as I stroke him. He is thick and so, so hard. Everything about this feels right. I push any lingering thought of my sister being with him from my mind and give into what I want. It’s been so long since I let my body lead.
His hand runs between my legs. I’m wet and I can tell from his moan he likes how slick I am, how primed.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” he tells me as he rolls on a condom. I lift my ass as his big, thick cock eases inside of me. There is no pretense, no doubt what this is about. It’s about sex. About letting go. About giving in.
So, we do. Hard. Harder. I sink down against him, my arms wrapping around his neck as I move my hips in a circle, my breasts bouncing as I do. He massages them, groaning with pleasure as I ride him. Me, in the power seat, in control. It feels good. This is so not my regular mode of operation -- all pleasure, no pain, but I like it.
And so does he. Tatum’s eyes darken as he holds me at my waist, thrusting his big thick cock inside of me until I am moaning his name.
“Oh, T,” I whimper. “Yes.”
He smiles. “T, huh?”
“You like that?” I pant.
He nods. “You can call me any fucking thing you like.” He kisses my shoulders, my neck, his big hand cupping my full breast. “God, your pussy is so fucking tight,”
I laugh, shocked at the words on his mouth, liking this primal side of him. This hungry part of him.
He rolls me over onto my back, his cock still buried in me, and his fingertips circle my clit as he fucks me, as he makes me come -- head to toe. I arch my back as he expertly gets me off the same time he comes.
I’m panting as we finish, both of us silently letting our orgasms rock through us. He sits up, takes off the condom, his thick cock in his hand. Catching my breath, I sit with a cushion between us, neither of us talking. Part of me wants to crawl into his lap... the other part of me feels like that would be too intimate. Too real. What we just did wasn’t about tenderness. It was about the release.
Finally, he clears his throat. “That was intense.”
I snort. “That’s one word for it.” My pussy still throbs, as if asking Tatum to come back.
“What’s another?” He looks over at me and I don’t turn away.
“Nice.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Nice?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Talk like that and you’ll make me think you traded places with Charlie.”
“Who’s that?”
“The last girl to break my heart.”
“That wasn’t Ash, then?” I ask, hating that I even mentioned her name.
Tatum scowls. “I don’t even remember being with Ashley... and I never slept with Charlie.” He pauses, frowning. “And remind me again why we’re talking about other women right after we had sex?”
I groan. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Tatum shakes his head, reaching for my hand. I let him take it, let him draw me close. Let him hold me. “Nah, you’re not a glutton for punishment, Aria Ryan. You’re a kind heart in a cruel world.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tatum
Aria is dressed when I come back into the living room after checking on Rose and pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, drawing her back into my arms and kissing her forehead.
“Starving. But I should probably get going. It’s getting late and it’s a good forty-minute bus ride home.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I hate that you sold your Jeep. If you would have asked me for the money--”
She pushes away. “I’m not taking your money, Tatum.”
“Why not?”
“Seriously?” She shakes her head. “Look. What we did... it was fun, and probably really, really stupid. But just because we had sex doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”
“I know that.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “But we’re in this thing together, right? And I need you...” I clear my throat. “I mean, I need your help with Rose. You’re helping me, why can’t I help you?”
She looks away, but before she does, I see the emotion in her eyes. “I’m not great at accepting help.”
“Or trusting people,” I say, tilting her chin towards me, then brushing my lips against hers. She’s already gotten under my skin. I know I should keep things casual but I can’t deny the pull between us, the need to protect her, to keep her close.
Her fingers play at the edge of my t-shirt. “No. But I trust you.”
“Good. Then trust me when I tell you that I think you should move in here.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“You said that asshole broke into your studio, that he threatened y
ou. How do you know that he doesn’t know where you live? That he won’t break into your apartment?”
“Tatum--”
“No, listen to me. I’ve got more than enough room here, and think about it, how much easier will it be with Rose’s schedule?”
She chews on her bottom lip, then shakes her head. “It’s too complicated. We just had sex.”
“That’s your best argument?” I ask, chuckling.
“No. I mean, yes. But it’s a big one. I’m not your girlfriend--”
“I’m not asking you to move in here as that. You’ll have your own room, and I promise if you don’t want me to touch you again, I won’t.”
Liar, my head screams. I’m already dying to sink my cock back inside her sweet pussy. But I’m also willing to take things slow, even backtrack if I must if it means keeping her safe.
“And think about Rose. If that guy comes to your place when you’re watching her--”
“I’d never let anyone hurt her,” she says defensively.
“I know.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and cup her face. “But you moving in here is the right decision. You can save money on rent, and the Chrysler Pacifica I ordered will be here in a few days, you can use it--”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” My brows lift.
She nods, but I see the uncertainty that still lingers. “I’ll move in. But just temporarily. Once I pay off Ash’s debts, and you’re more settled with Rose, I’ll move out.”
“Okay.” I grin down at her. “Then it’s settled. What do you want for dinner?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “That’s all the conversation we’re going to have about it?”
I shrug and pick up my phone. “What else is there to discuss, other than whether you want Italian or Chinese.”
“Definitely Italian,” she says. “But seriously, Tatum, this is a big deal. What if I’m a slob, or I snore, like really loudly?”
Game Day Baby Page 7
