Game Winning Catch: (Secret Baby Sports Romance (Pass To Win #5)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  I was really angry with Chris back then. I felt abandoned, but too ashamed to continue trying to reach out to him. I figured that if he didn’t want my son and me in his life, then we didn’t need him.

  We talked about that time a lot after we got back together. He was having a hard time then too. He had never had feelings for anyone like that and he was devastated that he couldn’t see me. It took some time to get past the hurt, but once we understood what we went through, it was easy to forgive.

  My dad was now our biggest supporter, which was a dramatic shift from where he was just a year ago. After we got engaged, he was especially kind to Chris. I think he felt so guilty about splitting us up that he wanted to make it up to us by being extra nice. We didn’t blame him, though. Partially, his assessment of Chris was right, and who knows where we would be today if we hadn’t had to face some adversity first.

  “Did Chris like football this much at Michael’s age?” I asked Chris’s parents. Michael was only five, yet he frequently talked about where he would go to college to play football.

  “Yes,” his dad said, “but he wasn’t nearly as athletic as Michael is now.”

  “Really?” I laughed.

  “Really,” his mom added. “He was too tall and lanky as a young kid. I know he would be mad to hear me say this,” she said conspiratorially, “but he was an awkward kid and wasn’t very coordinated. He didn’t grow into his body until he started high school.”

  I laughed, not being able to imagine Chris as any different from his strong, confident self.

  “I love watching them play together like that,” his mom said. “Seeing him be such a great parent to Michael makes me feel like we really did something right.”

  “Of course you did,” I said.

  “There were times when we were a little concerned about him. I always searched the news for him, and I never liked when I saw what he was doing in his personal life. I just wanted him to find a nice girl to settle down with. You are above and beyond what I could have ever hoped for.”

  All this talk was starting to make me feel emotional. I blinked rapidly, trying not to spill any tears. Chris’s parents were the sweetest, and I wished that they lived closer. His mom had been a great help during the wedding planning and made the absence of my own mother so much easier.

  “Let’s get dinner ready,” I suggested, getting up from the table.

  Chris’s mom and I went into the kitchen to put the salads and fruit we’d prepared on the table.

  Chris popped his head in the room. He had a big smile on his face and sweat on his shirt. He resembled a kid at times. “Do you need any help?”

  I handed him a plate of raw meat, wrinkling my nose. “Go throw these on the grill, won’t you?”

  I washed my hands with soap and water while his mom looked at me suspiciously. I knew where Chris got his satisfied smirk from.

  We sat down to dinner and the guys, hungry from their game, tore through the food. I was lucky that Chris and I both made good money, otherwise the grocery bill would give me a heart attack. I wasn’t particularly hungry, so I just watched my growing family. As Michael got older, he started to look more and more like Chris. They even shared a lot of the same mannerisms. I knew that one day, Michael would grow up to be just like his dad, but hopefully with the sensibility of his mother.

  “I have an announcement to make,” I said to the table, suddenly feeling nervous.

  Everyone looked up from their plate, except for Michael, who took the opportunity to dish up more food.

  “I wanted to make sure everyone was here so I could tell you all, Chris and I will be adding another player to the team. I’m pregnant.”

  Our parents gasped with delight and even Michael smiled from ear to ear.

  I looked at Chris who was sitting there with his mouth wide open. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or upset, or just too shocked to move. For a second, I completely regretted telling everyone this way. Maybe I should have told him earlier, to figure out how he felt before telling everyone else.

  We had discussed having more kids, but not in any certain terms. We both wanted more, but were unsure about when the best time would be. A lot of guys in the league planned the births of the children to coincide with the offseason so they wouldn’t miss out on games, or worse, the birth of their child. I had given birth to his child once without him, but I certainly wasn’t going to again.

  Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face. His eyes were moist.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked him.

  He got up from the table and rushed over to me, lifting me out of my chair to twirl me around.

  “You’re having a baby?” he asked.

  “We are,” I corrected him. “Early next summer. You’re not upset, are you?”

  He looked me in the eyes, communicating his absolute elation to me, then kissed me hard on the mouth. “How could I be upset? This is incredible news!”

  Michael groaned at the sight of his parents kissing, which made the adults laugh.

  “You’re going to be a big brother,” I said. He sat up a little straighter, as to prove that he was up for the responsibility. “Do I have to share my room?” he asked.

  “No, but you better get used to the fact that you won’t be an only child anymore,” I said. “Your dad and grandfather spoil you rotten!”

  “Don’t worry,” my dad said to Michael. “We’ll still spoil you, and your new sibling.”

  The rest of the evening, we sat outside, enjoying the beautiful weather, talking about the newest Taylor to join the lineup. I knew that it wouldn’t be easy to take care of a new baby, especially with our busy lives, but I knew that anything was possible with my little team.

  Thank You

  Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality.

  Please see her Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of her titles.

  Sign up for her mailing list and find out about her latest releases, giveaways, and more. Plus, get a FREE book! Click here!

  For more information, be sure to check out the links below!

  @RoxySinclaire

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  roxy@roxysinclaire.com

  Also by Roxy Sinclaire

  Pass To Win Series:

  Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 1)

  Line of Scrimmage: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Book 2)

  Between The Tackles: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 3)

  Fourth and Goal: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 4)

  Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance

  Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

  The Devil’s Dream: A Dark Romance

  Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

  Deceived By The Hitman: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

  Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance

  Copyright © 2016 by Roxy Sinclaire

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © 2016 by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  Edited and Beta Read by Teresa Banschbach

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only
for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  1

  Yvette

  A scholar had once instructed the world to “never judge a book by its cover”. I, for one, agreed with that saying and all that it implies, but I knew the truth. That scholar lied. And they obviously had not been a female. If a person’s cover didn’t matter, then why did plastic surgeons make drastically more than teachers? Over the last week, I’d put a lot of effort into my cover. Wax. Paint. Pump out. Push in. Pout. I had to look good. For my first day at Hanson and Associates Law Firm, I’d made sure that everything about my cover screamed “read me”, “look at me”.

  My strawberry blonde hair was smoothed perfectly into a neat bun at the nape of my neck, not a single fly away strand could be found. There was not a blemish to be seen on my round face, no pimples, bumps, or bruises, and the simple shimmery nude makeup colors that I wore only enhanced the perfection. I had strayed away from my frumpy well-worn slacks and slipped into a new burgundy pencil skirt, silky top accentuated with pearl buttons, fitted jacket, and matching kitten heels. I wanted to look sophisticated when I walked through the prestigious halls of the esteemed law firm.

  The security guard licked his lips as I confidently walked through the revolving glass door. My heels plinked against the marble in the atrium of the gilded high-rise building, and I couldn’t help but look around me in awe.

  “Good morning.” I said in my sweetest voice. “I think that I may need your help.” It’s good to be friendly with security guards. They knew things, and could find out things that others weren’t privy to. It’s even better if they think that you may let them get a whiff of your lady parts. The information that the slightest suggestion of a private pussy session or a good dick sucking could pry from a man could be invaluable.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” he responded crisply, but then his eyes darkened a little and his voice grew softer. “How can I be of service to you?”

  “I’m Yvette Morrison, and I need to get to the twentieth floor. Today is my first day as an assistant to Mr. Dylan Hanson.”

  The flicker of playfulness that lit the guard’s eye was swiftly snuffed out at the mention of Dylan Hanson. The man became professional so quickly, it made me wonder if I had imagined the playful look in his eyes as he pulled out a key card for access.

  “Thank you.” I said, pasting on a smile.

  “You’re welcome?” he responded, not meeting my eye.

  I had won the position by prevailing against several other top students in my graduating class, and I wanted the first day to be as perfect as possible. I had tossed and turned throughout the night imagining my sunlit top floor office with a hive of legal associates awaiting my strategies and support on cases. After all, the lawyers at Hanson and Associates had thought that I was good enough to become a part of their team. It no longer mattered that throughout college, I had been looked over for groups and teams because I wasn’t flashy enough. I was too plain. A new position though warranted a new wardrobe and outlook on life. A bolder one. Being smart had only gotten me so far. Far enough to get a door shut in my face by firms that I truly respected and wanted to work for. So I became a new hire stalker. I had to know who the companies were hiring. There had to be some reason why they weren’t hiring me. When I began checking new hire profiles, a glaring difference became obvious: the new hires were either gorgeous women or extremely photogenic men. By the time an opportunity to interview with Hanson came up, I had gone to the mall and surrendered myself and my credit card over to the clerk.

  Mr. Dylan Hanson was nowhere to be found when I arrived on the twentieth floor. Instead, I was ushered on a brisk tour of the floor and bull pen where my cubicle was housed amongst nine other assistants to Mr. Hanson, by James—a tall, lanky guy.

  “So what do I do?” I asked.

  James violently shushed me and looked around the room.

  “First of all, never ever ask that question.” He pulled me in close, his eyes wild as though he were hiding from the big bad wolf.

  “Survival tip number one: If you are not busy, look busy.” He told me while his head still swiveled around the area. “Mr. Hanson has us working on important research right now.”

  I dug my fingers through my bag and pulled out my notebook and pen. I was ready to work, to dig in and support the team.

  “You must get these orders quickly and correctly and have them here before Mr. Hanson arrives, lest you wish to feel his wrath.”

  “Orders? What kind of orders? Restraining order, protective order—”I asked eagerly ready to jot down the information and leap into action.

  James blinked hard several times while adjusting his thick rimmed glasses as if he were trying to see the words I had just said to understand them better.

  “What? No. Coffee orders.” he corrected. “Listen, because we don’t have much time.”

  “How much time do we have? When will Mr. Hanson be arriving?”

  “When he gets here. No matter what time he gets here, the coffee should be waiting when he steps foot onto the floor.” He responded as though I were an idiot. “Now listen.”

  You only get one chance to make a first impression and obviously I wasn’t making a good one to my bosses.

  It mattered what my bosses at Hanson and Associates thought of me. That’s why the pained expression on the barista’s face when I spouted off mispronounced drink specifications bothered me. It was my first day and the associates had given me the most menial of tasks. Tasks that I were already about to mess up.

  “We don’t serve large.” She emphasized the last word as though it were bitter.

  I smoothed out a rumpled piece of paper that was slightly damp from the perspiration that had plagued my hands since I’d walked through the revolving door of the firm. James had sent me on a coffee run for a meeting that had no start or end time with an uncertain number of participants but was highly important. The entire walk over I practiced pronunciations and reviewed the massive order over and over while waiting in the snail paced line.

  “That’s what he said.” I had specifically wrote down the word large.

  “Do you want the Grande or the Venti?” she relayed through twisted lips.

  “Which is the largest?” I inquired. A knot of frustration crept up in the back of my throat as I took in a deep breath. My job depended on that stupid order, and I knew nothing about the high priced coffee franchise. College life for me, both undergraduate and graduate, had not included the luxury of over-priced coffee, but it seemed that the men and women of the law firm indulged.

  The woman wiggled her lip ring around as she rolled heavy black lined eyes in my direction.

  “Just hand me the paper.” she huffed.

  Twenty minutes later, I scooted through the glass revolving door, fished out my key card from my dangling purse, and balanced my way to the bank of elevators where a group of official looking people looked and smelled important.

  “That’s a point that we should bring up, Dylan.” An older gentleman said in voice that rolled like thunder.

  My face nearly dropped to the ground along with the three carriers full of the coffee I was juggling. I had to get the coffees to the floor before my boss.

  I strode to the stairwell and kicked off my shoes. I would come back for them later. Screw what I looked like right now, I needed this job.

  I moved with haste up the thick concrete stairs, thankful for my frequent participation in step aerobics. When I burst from the stairwell entrance all red faced and with slightly untidy hair, heads turned.

  In six steps, I make it to the elevators where James was already waiting, probably ready to tell on me if I hadn’t arrived.

  The elevator made a dinging noise before the doors opened.

  “Made it.” I huffed in rhythm with my thumping heart.

  James found Dylan’s coffee from the group of carriers and held it out for my new boss, as the rest of the group flocked to the conference room as tho
ugh James and I were invisible.

  Mr. Hanson’s disapproving radiant blue eyes raked over me and my shoeless, disheveled appearance. I wanted to cry. I had to dazzle this man somehow. I had studied his cases in class, researched statistics, and memorized the history of the firm’s massive rise to greatness under his father’s guidance. I had worked too hard to get this position to lose it over coffee.

  I made my face as pleasant as possible with a wide smile.

  The handsome Mr. Hanson only grunted in my direction, and then turned with his coffee in hand to meet up with the others.

  I could only sigh.

  After successfully retrieving my shoes from the floor of the stairwell, I dredged up the courage to find my long legged host, James. He had looked as pleased with me as Mr. Hanson. The pictures of Dylan Hanson online and in magazines did not do him justice. He was definitely a man best experienced in 4D. Sight, Sound, Touch, and Smell. The musky sweet smell of him still lingered with me even now.

  “James.” I whispered to the intently focused man. His cubicle was small and bare. No pictures, quotes, plants or sports memorabilia. All of the cubicles were that way, I noticed.

  He jumped in his seat and turned to face me with an annoyed look. He returned his gaze to the computer’s screen quickly.

  “What are we researching?” I questioned, careful not to ask “what do I do now?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” he replied in a near monotone voice. “If the meeting lasts another 20 minutes, you should be concerned with making your way to the Chai Thyme Station for coffee refills. Both Hansons like fresh coffee every hour during a meeting.”