Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance

by Sosie Frost

  Provided he continued to greet meet me in such an excited manner.

  It seemed likely. And irritating.

  Lachlan waved us towards the cluster of Rivets hanging near the bar. Most of the guys took their seats for the karaoke show. Rory spooked the rest, like she was about to haul them onto the bar and snap on a rubber glove. No one wanted to be the first player benched because of an injury we couldn’t even see. The league’s neurological fellowship made everyone paranoid.

  Including me.

  “You make quite the impression, Doc,” I said.

  Rory wasn’t as thrilled. “I’m only trying to help—them and you.”

  She wouldn’t be helping if she forced me to hang up the cleats. “Forget the job tonight. I’m just here for a beer and a nice dinner with the most beautiful woman in this bar.”

  “Right…and what are the chances you remember the five words I gave you during the exam?”

  “You’re off the clock, Doctor.”

  “I didn’t check my lab coat at the door.”

  “Give me time. I’ll strip you by the end of the night.”

  Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

  Rory’s eyebrow arched, and I nearly apologized. I didn’t know if it was a side-effect of the injury or proximity to a pretty girl, but the last thing I needed was to look like some horn-dog asshole.

  Still, I liked that shocked smirk of hers.

  The bravest of the players approached us. Jack Carson hopped a booth and shook my hand.

  “Jude! Great to see you. Are you cleared to play yet?”

  I respected Jack—and I liked him more now that he seemed to settle down and take the game as seriously as I did.

  I nodded to Rory. “That’s up to the doc. Cross your fingers for me.”

  Jack grinned. “I’ll do more than that—I’ll beg. I need this man on my team. The thought of Jude Owens in my backfield? Jesus.”

  A beautiful black woman appeared at his side, rolling her eyes as she grabbed the iced tea pitcher for her table. “If he’s coming on too strong, smack him. Sometimes it’s the easiest way.”

  Jack surrendered with his arms up. “I’m man enough to admit when I’m star-struck. This is Jude-fucking-Owens!”

  The woman winked at me. “Oh! So you’re the one he’s been talking about. Jude this, Jude that. He won’t stop talking about you and the running game. I swear, if Jack wasn’t married to me, he’d propose to you.”

  “Either way, I’m on my knees,” Jack said. “Though you’ve never complained about that, Kiss.”

  The woman extended her hand with a flustered smile. “Hi. I’m Leah, and now you know entirely too much about me.”

  “I’m…Jude.” I guessed they knew that—the entire league knew that. “And this is Doctor Rory Merriweather.”

  The introductions were cut short as the rapid flashing of a camera blinded everyone at the bar. Lachlan’s wife, Elle, popped up beside us.

  “Lachlan’s about to make an ass out of himself singing some karaoke.” She quickly changed the batteries in her camera. “I’m not missing a minute of this. You guys coming?”

  Leah waved a hand, beckoning over the other couple waiting for drinks.

  I didn’t need a mnemonic device to remember Piper Madison—now Hawthorne, her married name. For all twelves seasons of my career, Piper’s father served as my agent. I practically watched Piper grow up. Never thought she’d marry a man like Cole Hawthorne. Neither did her father.

  However, it wasn’t Rory’s presence that kept The Beast from joining us.

  It was mine.

  The last thing I wanted was to be the source of another man’s guilt. Granted, Cole’s temper often got him into trouble, but that was part of the game. The life we chose was brutal and violent. I wouldn’t fault a man for doing his job.

  Piper forced Cole to the bar, and she gave me a hug.

  “I can’t tell you how excited I got when Dad said you were signing with the Rivets,” Piper said.

  “You actually like football? When did that happen?” I asked.

  She tugged on Cole’s arm. “I have a reason to watch now.”

  I offered my hand to Cole. “I’m glad we’ll wear the same colors this year.”

  Cole averted his gaze as he shook my hand. “Yeah. Right.”

  Jack grinned. “I got a good feeling about this season. I can feel it. Jude’s gonna bust this offense wide open. Rory, you gotta clear him soon so we can get to practice.”

  Rory shifted, her voice soft. “We’ll…have to see.”

  The team quieted, and the excitement fizzled out. Jack cleared his throat.

  “So…will you guys join us? Tonight is year two of our newest tradition. The rookies—and Lachlan—get a choice. Serenade us…or have their hair buzzed. Either way it’s a good time.”

  Not exactly what I had in mind. I gestured to Rory. “We were actually planning to…catch up.”

  “Table’s big enough—” Jack offered, but Leah elbowed him in the side. Whatever impression she got was the wrong one. “Oh! Yeah, sure. You guys have fun.”

  Rory’s eyes widened. “Oh no. It’s not like that. We’ve known each other forever—”

  Piper winked. “Nope. Don’t explain a thing. It’s about time Mr. Most Eligible got a little action.”

  “But, it’s not like—”

  Elle waved for everyone to scatter. “Come on, Lachlan’s up. Make hay while the babysitters and grandmas have the kids.”

  That got the couples moving. The team rushed to their seats.

  So did Rory. She hid her face and collapsed in the booth furthest from the bar.

  Shy was cute. Embarrassed was not.

  “Doc, I’ll have you know, I’m a pretty good catch,” I said. “You could do a lot worse.”

  “I already did.” She shook her head. “And you’re only a catch if you let yourself get hooked.”

  Like I hadn’t heard that before. “Not interested.”

  “Why not? That plenty of fish in the sea line? They’re talking about you.”

  “Well, they can keep trolling.” I handed Rory a menu with a suave smile. She wasn’t buying it. “There’s only one woman I want to entertain tonight, and she’s sitting across from me.”

  “And this flattery has nothing to do with the concussion evaluation, does it?”

  “Please, I’m nothing if not a gentleman. We’re just catching up. Having a good time.” The menu was too tiny, the lights too dim, and my vision blurring this late in the day. I’d wing it and have a cheeseburger. “Besides, what would you be doing tonight if you haven’t given me this honor?”

  “Do you want the polite answer I’d give on a date, or the truth?”

  “You’re talking to me, Rory.”

  She poked at the napkins, ripping one from the metal container. “Well, to be honest, I’d be at home fretting. Pacing. Generally reevaluating every conceivable aspect of my life.” She waved the shredded napkin at me. “And don’t you give me that look. If you were in my shoes, you’d be doing some serious introspection too.”

  “Good thing I’m not pregnant.”

  “That’s a shame. I could publish your case in a medical journal. I’d never have to worry about my career again.”

  “I’ll do whatever is biologically feasible to help you. It’s not often I actually like one of my doctors.”

  “But I haven’t given you my verdict yet.”

  And I hadn’t even begun to change her mind. “Pleasure before business, Doc.”

  “That doesn’t sound very Jude Owens,” Rory said. “You’ve always been work, work, work. Work some more. Lift weights, eat right, go to sleep by nine, conditioning, training, studying…”

  And look at how far it had gotten me. “Even the best of men need a night off. I choose to spend it here, with a beautiful woman.”

  “Appreciating the finer things since your injury?”

  And realizing how much I’d missed. A waitress interrupted us, taking our drink
orders. We shouted our requests as the team cheered. Lachlan dove onto the stage and called for his rookies to take seats front and center. The bar dimmed, and a spotlight encased him in white.

  “Lemme show you how this is done.” Lachlan took the microphone and blew a kiss to his wife. The music keyed up, and Elle hid her eyes as Lachlan’s hips rolled to a raunchy rendition of Heartbreak Hotel.

  “Huh.” Rory propped her chin on her hands. “Dinner and a show.”

  “Never say I can’t give a lady a good time.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you give your ladies a great time.”

  She smiled. There was a thrill. Little Rory, almost flirting?

  Nope. She buttered me up just to bust my balls.

  “If there are ladies,” she said. “Either you’re playing hard to get, or you strike out a lot.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” Especially with the string of one-night stands that had entertained me over my career. “Besides, I don’t bother with romance. Football is my only desire.”

  “Wow, I hope you use a lot of lube.”

  I laughed. “You get knocked up with one baby, and suddenly you’re all corrupted.”

  Rory grinned. “I’m not the one pleasuring footballs over women.”

  “And here I am, trying to be a gentleman so I don’t offend you with the wild details of my last conquest.” And hell if I could remember when that was. “I don’t date much.”

  “Never found anyone that’s tickled your fancy?”

  “Plenty of women have tickled other places than my fancy.”

  She plugged her ears. “I so don’t need to hear about it.”

  “Oh really?” I pointed to her belly. “And you’re gonna tell me that’s the result of a couple Eskimo kisses and a bit of sunshine?”

  “Would you believe the stork?”

  “I don’t want to imagine you with a man. Why the hell would I picture you with a stork?”

  “I don’t need a PhD to tell you that’s not how…” She lowered her voice. “Babies are made.”

  I could have used a doctor to show me though.

  I cringed. It didn’t stop the heat from flowing to an unwelcomed spot. Maybe Rory was right—my head hadn’t been screwed on tight enough. I shouldn’t have had those thoughts about her.

  Fortunately, Rory squirmed in her seat and hid behind the menu. I grabbed mine, but I stashed it in my lap instead.

  Rory hummed. “Do I want a burger, a cheese quesadilla, chocolate cake, or a salad made of pickles and tomatoes?”

  “Get ‘em all. See what you like.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’d be like nailing a neon sign with a flashing arrow to my uterus. I’m trying to keep the…” she whispered the word, “pregnancy a secret.”

  “You don’t have to keep the baby a secret with me.”

  She batted me with the menu as the music lulled. “Shush! Don’t even mention the word. From now on…call it a football.”

  “What?”

  “I’m carrying a football.”

  “Make sure you wash the lube off of it first.”

  She batted me with the menu again but smiled politely as the waitress returned to take our orders.

  “Burger please,” Rory said. “But no condiments on it. Or cheese. And don’t even let it near any onions.” She bit her lip. “Can you put some ice cream on the side of it?”

  I stared at the menu. “And I’d like a cheese quesadilla, piece of chocolate cake, and any variety of pickled vegetable you have in the restaurant.” Damn it. I ordered for Rory but forgot what I wanted. My mind blanked, and I pointed to the first thing I saw. “Poutine.”

  What the hell was poutine?

  The waitress didn’t question our orders. Then again, McCrees was a common Rivets’ hangout. She was probably used to pregnant woman.

  That didn’t mean I was. “So this football…you still haven’t said who…handed it off to you.”

  Rory’s teeth clamped down on her straw. Message received. “It was a mistake. And I should’ve known better, but I thought we’d just…go for it.”

  “Does he know about the football?”

  “The signals didn’t get crossed, if that’s what you mean. He doesn’t agree with my play call. Would have preferred that I…punt.”

  “And so he’s left you alone on the field?” My words sharpened. That was twice I’d gotten aggravated this evening, but at least this irritation was justified.

  No one treated Rory like this.

  Rory bit her lip. “When we played the game, he rushed to the line. I thought we plugged the hole, but a rusher got through.”

  “And then he dumped the ball back on you after he scored.”

  “Look, I can handle it,” she said. “Sure, my life is a little out of bounds now, but I’m not going to fumble. As long as I keep the game plan a secret for a bit longer, I’ll come out with a winning record.” She sipped her water. “I’ve just gotta remember not to spike this football.”

  I stared into her eyes for a moment too long—savoring her determination, her grace, and her bravery.

  “I’m sorry, Doc…” The silence stretched. “Are we still talking about a baby…or is this another cognitive test?”

  Rory shook her head. “I’ve got it under control. I don’t care about the player involved.”

  “He’s a football player?”

  “No. I meant he’s…someone who jumps in and out of bed with women. It was my fault for not realizing his reputation.”

  “This isn’t your fault. This guy needs to step up.”

  “Getting him involved would be chaos. We talked, and I’m going to do this myself. I have to focus on the fellowship now. It’s too good of an opportunity to waste, and if anyone learns about the pregnancy, I’ll lose this chance. The fellowship will take my spot and award it to one of the dozen others who applied.” Rory rubbed her tummy. “One of the men who wanted the gig. Just because they have a penis, they think they can practice medicine better than me. Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve got a nine-month study buddy with me now. She’ll come in handy.”

  I chuckled, but Rory hadn’t moved her hand. Her fingers drew little circles over her flat tummy.

  “Is it a baby or a genie?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “The way you’re rubbing,” I said. “Looks like you expect the baby to pop out and grant you three wishes.”

  Rory jerked away, checking to see if anyone else had caught her motion.

  “Relax,” I said. “I think most people walk out of here clutching their guts. You’re fine.”

  She sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You know…I could use a genie about now.”

  “Got a wish you want to make?”

  “Don’t you?” Her smile was a gentle tease.

  “Only one,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  “You first.”

  Rory shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I want my fellowship.”

  “That’s fair.”

  She met my gaze with a temptingly arched eyebrow. “And I know what you want.”

  I hoped not. Rory was far too innocent to read the thoughts that stiffened me head to groin.

  “You want to play football,” she said.

  “Eight years of higher education really pays off, huh?”

  Rory rolled her eyes. “You’re not subtle, Jude.”

  “I don’t need to wish for it.” I pointed at her. “I just need clearance to play.”

  “You know what my answer will be.” Rory shifted, pretending to watch the six rookies perform their rousing rendition of It’s Raining Men. “Don’t put me in this position, Jude.”

  “I’m only asking for a chance.” I grinned as the waitress returned. “Don’t make the decision now. We haven’t eaten yet.”

  Rory stared at her burger and quesadilla, but her fork sunk into the cake first. She gave the chocolate a tentative lick.
/>   Lucky cake.

  I stared at my food. Apparently, poutine was made of French fries, brown gravy, and…

  “Oh God…” Rory covered her eyes. “What is that?”

  “Cheese.”

  “That’s not cheese.”

  “You gotta get off your tuffet, Miss Muffet.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They’re cheese curds. Want a bite?”

  “Dear God, no.” She turned away from the bowl, but, after a long moment, she shrugged. “It smells good. Just don’t let me see it.”

  I loaded a French fry dripping with gravy onto her fork. A bit of cheese melted onto the bite.

  Rory hummed as she swallowed. “That’s really good.” The fork returned. “Can I have another?”

  “We’ll share it.”

  I reloaded the fork with another French fry and all the gravy it could sop up. She took her bite, groaned a beautiful sound of contentment, and dipped a finger in her chocolate icing.

  “I know,” she said. “I’m a freak.”

  “You’re not a freak,” I lied. “I’m just glad you’re smiling.”

  “Well…this is kinda fun.”

  “Yeah?”

  Her tongue licked at a spec of chocolate still sweetening her finger. She gave it a lap and nearly stopped my heart.

  “You’ve always been fun, Jude. It’s why I once had a…” She gave a nervous laugh. “No. Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously. It’s the hormones talking.”

  “I’m interested in what they’re saying.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Besides feed me, take a nap, throw that up, and freak out about losing your slipper?”

  “All valid concerns.”

  She looked away. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. Your last concussion was absolutely frightening. I watched them load you into the ambulance, Jude. On the stretcher.”

  “And I recovered.”

  “People don’t recover from injuries like that. It doesn’t take a neurology specialty to realize it. And I think if you were really honest, you’d agree.”

  I usually loved silence, but this moment lasted too long.

  I flinched as Lachlan keyed up a song that set my teeth on edge.

  “This one is dedicated to our newest running back!”