Roughing the Kicker (Saints and Sinners Book 1)

by Eden Butler

  “That kind of thing doesn’t just die, and if it does, then it wasn’t love at all. I’ll remind you also, that you’re paid a lot of money to do your job. I don’t have to tell you what that job is, but I damn sure know it isn’t you berating a rookie in front of her new team.”

  Coach watched him close. Reese’s eyes were darker than her father’s, but the shape was the same. Ryder hadn’t seen them in so long he forgot how similar they were, and the thought made him feel useless and stupid. Coach squeezed his shoulder one last time and walked to the door, stopping to rest a hand on the knob before he turned to look at him.

  “I taught you strength and skill, but I also taught you honor and loyalty.” He opened the door, giving Ryder his back as he continued. “Maybe you remember how to use both.”

  10

  Ryder

  The camp never started on time. Willie was perpetually running behind. That meant the

  rec center didn’t get opened in time, which meant the equipment manager and his crew from the Steamers were just finishing unloading pads and balls and cones that marked distance when the kids from the Little Steamers organization had started to trickle through the front gate.

  It was almost a welcome occurrence, something that didn’t do much to dim the good mood Ryder was in as the kids and his fellow teammates started to arrive. This would be better, he promised himself. Greer wouldn’t be around this time distracting everyone, and there would be no reason for Reese to force a wide, ridiculous smile while she threatened his anatomy.

  Besides, today’s camp was all about setting up the teams. That was something Ryder lived for—teaching the kids in the organization what they needed to know to win. More than that, he liked seeing the joy brightening their eyes when they caught a good pass or intercepted a ball that Ryder had thrown down the field.

  It almost distracted him completely from the clusterfuck he’d started with Reese.

  Almost.

  Nothing, he decided, would distract him from the lecture her father had given him, though. The man was just too scary.

  “Mr. Glenn!” Ryder heard, smiling when Jack Timmons, a skinny fifth grader from Craig Charter came running right toward him. It was Jack’s second year with the Little Steamers, and he still had that excited, obvious smile on his face anytime Ryder saw him.

  “Hey, man,” he greeted, kneeling down to shake the kid’s hand. Despite his small stature—barely reaching four feet—Jack was a pistol, and he had one hell of an arm on him. “You ready to practice?” Ryder laughed when Jack’s smile grew even wider.

  “Born ready,” the kid told Ryder, and the quarterback laughed again, high-fiving him.

  “Good. Let’s get you set up.”

  For the next half-hour Ryder moved around the field, greeting kids that had been part of the program for years, some following in their siblings’ footsteps. There was a rivalry between Wilkens’ team, nearly all female and Uptown kids, and Ryder’s, who came from lower income homes and single-parent families. It was a competition that extended to the Steamers’ sidelines, when Wilkens would taunt Ryder as the quarterback practiced his throws. It was good-natured, and Ryder found it fun to mess with the guy, something he looked to do just then as he hung back, waiting on the parents to finish paperwork and the kids on his team to get sorted into groups.

  He looked around the field, frown forming on his mouth when he didn’t spot Baker, Wilkens, or even Pérez, who usually had command of their own teams. Then, Ryder held his breath, realizing that Gia was probably around, watching, wanting to know if this camp with the kids would turn out better than the last one. Reese might have put on a smile while she berated him, but Ryder knew Gia caught on to their distance and the way they ignored each other, a fact that was confirmed when he spotted the two flags at the end of the field. Glenn flew right next to Noble and lines of kids waiting for their shots on each had already formed. Gia, it seemed, was determined Reese and Ryder would work together and get along while they did.

  Reese stood in front of her flag, smile wide, brilliant, her hair down around her shoulders, the bangs pinned back as a small army of Wilkens’ players, all female this year, hovered around her. The girls seemed to have question after question, none of which Reese seemed able to answer. She’d open her mouth, start to speak, but then another excited little player would interrupt, tugging on the fitted tee or at the waistband of her jeans to get her attention.

  Ryder thought of rescuing her. He even took three steps toward her, but then Reese held up her hands, quieting the small players before she had them all sit, those small girls forming a circle around the Steamers’ new placekicker.

  “Now,” Reese said, attention on the small faces that watched her intently. “Let’s talk about what it takes to be a good kicker.”

  They listened. The girls seemed to utterly absorb every word Reese uttered. Ryder moved to his flag, motioning for his kids to organize, and shot her a smile. It was a cordial, friendly gesture that he hoped she knew was some small peace offering. He wouldn’t be shouting at her today.

  He watched her between the drills and exercises he put his players through. A side-eye view told Ryder that his kicker was handling herself well. She immediately got the girls lined up and showed them how to kick hard and low and fast. There were some awed, amazed gasps from the girls, even more from the other kids around them, and pretty soon, Ryder had to pull back a few of his players from Reese’s demonstration. When that didn’t work, he set up his runners and QBs next to Reese’s girls and they double-teamed, something he knew would probably keep Gia from bitching at them.

  Reese and her kids worked in pairs, running, kicking as Ryder’s kids ran for passes and threw to their teammates near the end zone.

  “You’re good at this,” he told her, earning a shrug and a wave of the hand he guessed meant she thought her ability was no big deal.

  “Learned from the best,” she told him, and he nodded in agreement that her father had been the best coach he’d ever had.

  The complementary practices didn’t bother him. Neither did the unofficial racing that Ryder’s kids and Reese’s came up with while they moved over the field. What did bother him was when a few of his QBs gravitated toward Reese’s group, lining up to kick the ball. He tried not to feel too betrayed when Jack joined them.

  He couldn’t blame the kids. Reese was engaging. She was animated, and, Ryder guessed, she was an anomaly that everyone wanted to see. Maybe they thought of her as this new, shiny toy the Steamers were testing out. Maybe they imagined they could learn the basics and then improve with her guiding them.

  Ryder hadn’t been able to forget about that Sunday afternoon in the gym. He told himself it meant nothing, was nothing, because Reese was nothing at all to him. But then a flash of emotion swirled and taunted Ryder. He’d walked into his kitchen that night and swore he smelled the peach-sweet scent of her. He imagined her with him, working and training, but then the second it entered his mind, he squashed it.

  There was too much risk involved in wanting her. There were too many injuries to his heart from the past they shared, and Ryder was convinced no one or nothing was worth risking it further.

  Not even the woman surrounded by awed, open kids.

  “Good,” Reese said, patting a young girl with pigtail braids on the shoulder as she demonstrated a kick. “You just landed a prime spot on my team.”

  “Don’t play favorites,” Ryder whispered to her, stepping close so he couldn’t be overheard.

  “Me?” she asked, eyes wide. She looked back at her group and frowned. “You think they think I’m—”

  “I’m messing with you, Noble,” Ryder said, earning an eye roll for the admission.

  “Yeah,” she answered, walking away before he glanced over her shoulder, “that’s what I thought you’d say.” And Ryder didn’t think she was talking about football.

  Later, when the teams were settled, signed up, and leaving, when their fellow teammates were packing up, Ryder c
aught up to Reese as they started for the parking lot.

  “You were good with them,” Ryder said, slowing to Reese’s side as they ambled from the field. Out on the street, the fans gathered, and he spotted Pérez and Baker moving toward them, pens in hand. Reese followed his gaze, her eyes curious, a little nervous. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “None of the media or fans can get into the parking lot.”

  “Oh, I was just wondering how many of them would tell me to make them a sandwich.”

  Ryder winced, stopping Reese from walking any closer to her car. “Hanson is an asshole.”

  “Agreed,” Reese said, tugging up the strap on her bag. “But he’s not the only one.” She moved the tip of her shoe against a piece of loose gravel, a distraction that made her look nervous. Reese inhaled, seeming to steady herself with one long, large breath before she spoke. “Thanks.” Ryder frowned, not sure why she thanked him. “I mean, you didn’t have to lay into Hanson that day he tried filming me at practice.”

  Maybe it was his worry over the team and their new kicker. Maybe there was some long-buried sympathy he felt for Reese. More likely though, it was Coach’s words that had penetrated. The guilt he’d mustered in Ryder lay thick in his gut. It had only grown wider, heavier in the three days since the old man visited him at the stadium. He hadn’t been wrong. No matter what had happened between Reese and Ryder, the quarterback needed to remember what he’d learned from her. He needed to remind himself that once there had been love and respect between them. He needed to remember that she’d felt his sister’s loss just as deeply. He was her captain. He needed to honor that title.

  Something came over him, had Ryder softening his voice. “When are you gonna learn, Noble? I’m your captain. I. Have. You.”

  She looked surprised, eyebrows shooting up like she wasn’t sure he’d correct her. “You got my back?”

  He didn’t hesitate, shrugging like she should know he meant it. “That’s what I said.”

  “Well.” Again, Reese shuffled some of the loose gravel on the ground, staring at it as she spoke. “Thanks, Ry.” Ryder blinked, surprised when Reese jerked her gaze up, looking worried and embarrassed all at the same time. “Sorry. I just…”

  He shook his head, silencing her apology. “I like it.” The smile stretched across his mouth without him meaning it, and Ryder deflected, scratching his neck as he looked across the parking lot at the fans along the fence line. Two of Greer’s friends, both WAGs, watched him, their attention moving between Reese and Ryder and he sighed, figuring just talking to his kicker would drum up drama he’d never be in the mood for.

  He ignored their long looks, glancing back down at Reese, remembering his admission of liking her calling him by that nickname again. “Ry,” he said, laughing. “Reminds me of when you were just my kid sister’s annoying friend.”

  “I wasn’t annoying,” she started, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth when Ryder shook his head at her. She had to remember the shit she and Rhiannon did just to get under his skin. Reese lowered her shoulders, smile quick and sweet. “Okay, fine,” she said defensively, “but so were you.”

  “Maybe.” Ryder liked this. He remembered it. The teasing, the irritating attitudes. They’d always given it back and forth anytime she surfaced at his folks’ place or on the field at practices, especially when Coach would invite him to his place for Sunday dinner. Reese had always been there, in the middle of his conversations, disrupting his life in one way or another, but back then, he hadn’t minded it so much. Before that lake party, before he realized she wasn’t just some annoying kid part of the landscape of his life, they’d been friendly, if not friends. He’d missed that. Despite how things had ended with them, he still had missed his friend Reese.

  Watching her now, Ryder realized he could have done serious damage with that kiss and knew he needed to explain himself. He bit the corner of his mouth then took up messing with the loose gravel, too, not realizing he copied her when he did it. “I…I think I should apologize. For…the gym.”

  Reese shrugged, stepping back a little, watching a group of kids being hustled into a minivan as she spoke. “It was a hard day, for both of us.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “I know you didn’t,” she answered, attention back on him again. “Neither did I.”

  He pushed back the small flush of disappointment that he shouldn’t have felt and nodded. “I just…Rhiannon…I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d loved his sister, more than he’d ever loved anything, and didn’t think that would ever stop, even though he wished it would because the pain of her being gone was too much to take sometimes.

  When Ryder stayed silent, grinding his back teeth together to keep from blurting out all the hurt he’d so expertly bottled up for ten years, Reese reached for him, grabbing his hand to pull back his attention to her. “I miss her, too. So much.”

  Ryder stared at her fingers on his hand, the long joints and square nails, wondering why that brief touch felt so good. So comfortable. He’d spent so long hating her, laid so much blame on her shoulders. Maybe he’d done that because it was the only way past his pain. But Ryder had been so blinded by his own loss, he’d never given much consideration to Reese’s. Seeing her Sunday, her tears and guilt forcing her onto that treadmill, slowly trying to kill herself changed that.

  He didn’t answer, for fear the tears in his throat would burst forward and spill from his eyes. Instead, Ryder squeezed her hand back, nodding a goodbye, and started for his car. He got five steps away when Reese called his name. He turned, lifting a chin at her.

  “You think, maybe,” she started, walking closer to him, “one day when we aren’t driving each other crazy, that we could be friends? Just…just friends?”

  Ryder smiled, the tension in his throat lessening. Loyalty. Honor. Friendship. Those were big words with bigger meaning. Looking at her, Ryder wondered what would happen if he associated those words with Reese again.

  He nodded, liking the sound of each word, liking more the way Reese watched him, expression open, a little impatient. He liked that look on her. He’d missed seeing it. “Yeah,” he told her. “I think I’d like that.” Funny thing was, he meant it.

  11

  Ryder

  He wanted her. That sweet curve of her back on display, the shimmer of her skin against the water as she stood there rubbing soap all over her body—it was a flame, and Ryder was a punch-drunk moth.

  “I should walk away,” he said, knowing something about this moment was familiar. Had he been here before? Had this already happened?

  Ryder didn’t know. He didn’t much care. All he knew was that Reese was standing in front of him, body naked, skin wet, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That hadn’t changed, and when she held out her hand, beckoning him forward, he knew the wanting would never leave him.

  “This…isn’t right. You and me here like this,” he told her, not stepping away despite whatever stupid protests left his mouth.

  “Ry, this is the only right thing left in my world.”

  How could he refuse her then? How could he walk away?

  He wouldn’t even try.

  Reese fit against him like a lock to key; easy, still, her body kissing against his, her mouth and nipples wet and ready and right then, all his for the taking.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said, her voice different, sleepy sounding and higher than normal, but Ryder didn’t care what she sounded like. Those three words were enough to make him move, pulling her close, hands smoothing up her back, lifting to her long hair as she arched.

  “Then come here, baby.”

  They hit the floor, away from the showers, and Ryder pulled Reese with him, finding a soft spot on the bunch of folded towels near the free weights. She climbed over him, body still damp, hair a jumble of wet waves that tangled in his fingers when she slid on top of him completely.

  She was naked and got him that way with one smooth rub of her hand along his shorts, and t
hen that hand gripped his aching cock, throbbing and pulsing between her fingers.

  “I love the way you touch me.” He always had, and at those long, sure swipes, Ryder jerked against her, hips grinding, coming up to meet her, his body so desperate to be inside her again. “En—enough,” he said, stilling her hand with his fingers on her wrist. “Slide on top of me, baby. I need to be inside you.”

  “Shit…” she said, that sleepy voice more alert, excitement rising an octave, breathy as she rushed to slip a condom over him.

  Her ass was smaller than he remembered, the sides wider, but any thought of the differences now to how she had been at twenty got forgotten when Reese got to her knees, rubbing her pussy against his dick, holding it upright as she teased them both.

  “Do it,” he told her, fingers twisting against the towels beneath him as that sweet, hot pussy got wetter. “Do it now, baby.”

  “Fuck yes,” she hissed and dropped the teasing, slowly angling him until she was opening, sliding down, and each fraction of an inch felt hot and wet and so fucking good. “Oh, God. How did I go so long without this?”

  “I don’t know,” he ground out, one hand on her hip as she worked over him. Ryder hissed himself, loving the feel of her, how she moved her hips in a figure eight, up and down, looping side to side, walls clamping. “Fuck, it’s been too long.” He lifted his hips, steadying her as he pumped into her, fingers digging into her perfect naked flesh.

  “Oh, God, baby. Yes,” she said, hovering now, steading herself on her feet, meeting him as he continued to shift upward. “Too…too long,” she managed, palms flat against his chest. “A week is too long…” Then she moved faster, pulling one of Ryder’s hands against her breast, wanting him to touch and squeeze and tease her, too, as her walls tightened, clamped harder, and her screams were deafening, loud as she came.