Johnny Deeper: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Rose,” Dr. Jones says. She smiles wide and offers a kind nod to John as we step into the ultrasound room. “I’ll be right back and then we’ll get started.”

  “Thank you,” I say, sliding into the chair and putting my feet up. I let out a long sigh, relishing in the moment to relax a little. Only twenty weeks in and I’m already exhausted all the time. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when my girls are finally here.

  Yes, John. We are having girls.

  I raise my shirt to expose my belly as John sits down by my right side with a permanent smile etched onto his face.

  “They’re boys,” he whispers, reading my mind.

  I open my mouth to argue but the door bursts open.

  “Did I miss it?!”

  I grin at Daisy in the doorway. “Nope, you’re just in time.”

  Dr. Jones walks in behind her and smiles. “Daisy, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hey, Dr. J!” she greets. “How’s life treating you in front of the stirrups?”

  John deflates and looks at me. “What is she doing here?”

  I wince. “Did I not tell you she was coming?”

  “No, you did not.”

  “Whoops.”

  Daisy slides over an empty chair and sets it on my left. “Excuse me, halfback,” she says as she plops down into it. “I’ve been through this before, so I know more than you do. Also, Rose and I share DNA. These babies are as much mine as they are yours.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how any of that works.” His brow furrows with confusion and he looks at the doctor. “Right?”

  Dr. Jones shrugs as she snaps on her gloves. “Okay, let’s take a look inside, shall we?”

  John takes my hand and squeezes tight. He winks at me; one final, silent way of telling me he’s right but I know he’s wrong.

  Daisy snatches my other hand and grins across my exposed belly at John, squeezing my hand even tighter than he is and I suddenly feel like I’m about to be torn apart like a wishbone.

  Dr. Jones slathers my belly with gel and readies the wand. I look at the screen and take a deep breath, biting my lip as butterflies wreck my insides. John kisses my hand with excitement in his eyes, barely able to contain it as his toe bounces up and down on the floor.

  “Okay…” Dr. Jones sets the wand against my belly and shapes instantly flood the screen.

  I squint, trying to make out what’s going on but it looks more like a paranormal crime scene than a uterus, so I just sit back and wait.

  “Penis!” Daisy flails at the screen. “Sorry, but that was totally a penis.”

  John chuckles. “Do you always get this excited when you see one?”

  “Oh, shush,” she snaps back.

  “Is she right?” I ask Dr. Jones.

  She nods. “Yep. Looks like we’re having boys!”

  John pumps his giant fist. “Yes!”

  I feel a stab of bittersweetness. “Man, my instincts suck. I could have sworn they were girls…”

  He lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Hey, now you know that you can always trust my instincts. John Kirby will never steer you wrong.”

  Daisy rolls her eyes.

  “Uh-oh.”

  The three of us stare at Dr. Jones, our necks twitching in her direction so fast they could snap.

  “Okay, Doc,” Daisy says, “I’m usually not one to tell people how to do their jobs, but I don’t think uh-oh is the kind of thing you should say when you’re looking inside a belly full of babies.”

  “Well... it’s a good uh-oh, not a bad uh-oh,” Dr. Jones says. “I misread the ultrasound last time.”

  My heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” she smiles, “you’re having triplets. Not twins.”

  “Triplets?!” Daisy gasps.

  I look at John’s sagging face, his jaw slacked open in silent shock as he stares at the screen.

  My eyes fill with tears. “Are you sure?”

  Dr. Jones adjusts the wand, tilting it to show a better angle. “Looks like she was hiding behind her brothers…”

  I clench John’s hand. “She?”

  “Yep. Two boys… and a girl.” She points at the screen. “Right there.”

  I lean forward as the third form takes shape. “Whoa…”

  Daisy shakes my shoulder. “We’re having three babies!”

  “Uh-huh…” I try to say something else, something more intelligent, but my tongue speaks only gibberish.

  Triplets. Three babies. Two boys. One girl.

  Oh, my god…

  John smiles at me. “May I have a moment alone with my wife, please?” he asks the room.

  Dr. Jones slides out of her chair. “Sure. I’ll give you a few minutes and then we’ll try and narrow down that due date.”

  John glares at Daisy.

  Finally, she sighs and lets go of my hand. “Fine. I’ll be right outside.” She plants a quick kiss on my forehead, lets out a happy squeal, and follows the doctor out.

  As soon as the door latches closed, John darts forward to kiss me. His body rumbles with laughter and I see a few tears growing on the edge of his eyes.

  I punch his shoulder. “I told you I felt a girl!”

  He smiles wider. “I will never doubt your women’s intuition or your motherly instincts ever again.”

  “Me neither!” I laugh.

  He cups my face and kisses me again. “I love you, Rose.”

  “I love you, John.”

  He leans down, quickly kissing any part of my exposed belly not caked in goo. “And I love you, and you, and, especially, you.”

  “Two boys and a girl,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, sorry,” he says, sitting back down. “I’m fertile as fuck.”

  I laugh again as tears pour from my eyes. “How are we going to do this?” I ask, holding my wet cheeks in my hands.

  John takes my wrists and pulls my hands down. “We’ll have plenty of time to panic later, Rose,” he chuckles. “For now, let’s just be really happy.”

  “Okay,” I exhale.

  “I mean, look at us,” he says. “We’re badasses. If anyone can handle three babies, it’s us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Nope.” He takes my hand again. “But I can’t wait to try.”

  We entwine fingers. “Yeah,” I say. “I can’t either.”

  “But you know what I am sure about?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sure… that this girl… will be way cuter than Junior’s girl was.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I guarantee it,” he says. “With your gorgeous looks and this handsome mug, there’s no contest.”

  “I’m gonna tell him you said that,” I tease.

  “Pfft. I ain’t afraid of Junior.”

  “What about Eliza?”

  He hesitates. “Maybe a little.”

  I lie back and exhale the laugh from my lungs. “Two boys and a girl…” I say it again, still not quite believing it’s true.

  “So, what will she be?” he asks. “A Dana or a Ramona?”

  I draw a line across my upper belly, feeling the life stirring inside for a brief, fleeting moment. “I think she feels like a Dana…”

  John nods. “I think so, too.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “So, should we call them back in here?”

  I look at my husband, once again sensing a bit of movement inside of me, and I smile. “No. Just a few more minutes…”

  “Perfect.”

  He kisses me again and I kiss him back, letting the moment last for a little while longer.

  Please enjoy

  Whiplash: A Sports Romance

  as a bonus read!

  Thank you for reading!

  xoxo

  TK

  WHIPLASH

  A SPORTS ROMANCE

  TABATHA KISS

  Copyright © 2016 by Tabatha Kiss

  All R
ights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form

  without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

  No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related.

  WARNING: This novel contains explicit descriptions of

  erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,

  including perverse adult language.

  Reader discretion advised.

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  WHIPLASH

  A SPORTS ROMANCE

  BY TABATHA KISS

  If I’m a player…

  Then she’s the coach.

  ELIZA

  My dad doesn’t want me socializing with the team.

  But I’ve never been much of a daddy’s girl.

  Junior Morgan thinks he can flash a wink and get me in his bed.

  I won’t make it so easy for him.

  Sorry, quarterback. You want me?

  You’re gonna have to earn it.

  Let’s play.

  JUNIOR

  The new coach doesn’t want the team involved with his daughter.

  But I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

  Eliza Pierce thinks she’s won her little game.

  I’m not giving up so easy.

  Sorry, honey. I know what I want.

  You have no idea who you’re playing with.

  Bring it on.

  A handsome playboy. The coach’s forbidden daughter.

  College football’s Most Valuable Player has met his match!

  SEPTEMBER

  Chapter 1

  Junior

  “Cary Pierce?!”

  Ty nods, his eyes never leaving the road in front of us. “That’s what I heard.”

  I blink, forcing my vision to focus but my head still spins. “No way. That’s impossible.”

  “Before he retired, he said he’d like to coach a college team.”

  “Most professionals say that on their way out,” I argue. “They usually don’t. There’s no way Cary Pierce is our new coach. Why would he even bother with a shitty school like ours?”

  Ty grins and tilts his head, taking his eyes off the road for several dangerous seconds to glare at me. “Wanna bet?”

  I’ve known Ty for two years now, ever since our freshman year. This is his gotcha face; his I know something you don’t know face.

  “What do you know?” I ask.

  “Make a right turn,” his phone speaks, highlighting an upcoming road on the GPS map.

  Ty barely slows down in time and makes a hard right turn. The car lurches and my guts shift as I grip my seatbelt a little tighter.

  “I know,” he begins, “that my cousin, the real estate agent, just sold a big house just outside the city —” he points the map, “this big house — and had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before he met his client.”

  I pause. “Really?”

  He nods. “But we went out for drinks last night and he said he’d fucking kill to be in my cleats right now because our new coach is a retired, four-time pro football champion—”

  “You are so full of shit, dude,” I scoff.

  “Hey…” He holds up his hands and the wheel curves gently left, sending the car along with it. “Don’t believe me if you want but you’re gonna be sucking my dick later.”

  “Just watch the road, man,” I urge, shifting in my seat to get a little more comfortable.

  A suit and tie isn’t usually my style but the invitation the team received insisted on us looking our best to meet the new coach in order to pay respect to the last one — Marty Duncan. He’d been the university football coach for the last two decades until he finally keeled over last week — just two weeks before the first game of the season. The gentle, relieved sighs of the school board could be heard throughout campus for days as they celebrated the idea of bringing in some new blood after begging him to retire for years.

  But Cary Pierce blood? Not a fucking chance.

  Still, a bit of doubt seeps in as we round the dirt corner and the house comes into view. Scratch that — it’s not a house, it’s a damn mansion with a large, black gate surrounding it.

  “Holy shit,” I say. “I didn’t even know this was out here.”

  “Me neither,” Ty mutters.

  We come to a stop at the front gate where a security guard emerges out of nowhere. He grins at us as Ty rolls down his window, flashing a pair of old, stained teeth. “Welcome, boys!” he greets. “Come to meet the new coach?”

  “Yeah,” Ty says, scavenging into his back pocket for his invitation. He holds it out and the man waves us through.

  “Have fun!”

  The gate slides open slowly, adding even more annoying anticipation towards finding out who this mysterious new coach is. As Ty drives forward, his smug grin dances a little more on his face. Could he be right? Could we be driving towards professional football royalty right now?

  I shake the thoughts away. We’re smack in the middle of a damn fly-over state. Cary Pierce is from New York City and he probably retired there as well, along with his millions.

  “Whoa-o-o!” Ty laughs as we swing into the circle drive. His eyes flash around, taking in the perfect lawn and the huge fountain at its center.

  Even my jaw sags a little. I grew up about a half a block from the bad part of town in a neighborhood that pretended to be nicer than it really was. My family got by just fine but never in a million years did I think I would ever step foot in a place as nice as this.

  A man in a vest charges down the front steps and meets us at the end of the drive, signaling for Ty’s keys as we climb outside.

  Ty passes them off, his grin stretching out even longer. “Valet parking,” he remarks, staring at me.

  “It’s not Cary Pierce’s house, man,” I say, although I’m not even sure what to believe anymore. The valet drives off and I chuckle. “For all you know, that guy just stole your car.”

  “Pfft,” Ty laughs. “Joke’s on him. Thing ain’t worth shit. He did me a favor.”

  I chuckle and the front door opens before we even reach it.

  “It’s about time, guys! The team is waiting on you!”

  My jaw drops and I glance over at Ty as his mouth slides into a thin smirk.

  Cary Pierce. The Cary Pierce. Four-time champion Cary Pierce, a man I’ve looked up to since I was ten years old, is standing in front of me. He looks exactly the way he did when I was a kid with the small exception of his black hair looking a little thin around the edges and the slight wrinkles taking hold of the skin around his eyes.

  No fucking way.

  He waves us in with a thick hand. “Well, don’t just stand there.”

  We step forward and Ty takes the lead, shoving forward to shake hands with a legend. “It’s awesome to meet you, sir,” he says. “I’m Ty Fisher.”

  “Fisher?” Pierce asks. “You know a Sal Fisher?”

  “Sal’s my cousin.”

  “Good man! He gave me a decent deal on this house.”

  “And what a beautiful house it is!” Ty winks.

  Pierce gestures him inside and his eyes fall on me. “And you must be Junior Morgan.”

  I blink, taking his hand. “How did you know?”

  “Process of elimination,” he shrugs. “You’re the only one I haven’t met yet — and you’re gonna have to work on that grip if you’re going to be my quarterback.”

  My cheeks bleed red. I just gave the world’s daintiest handshake to Cary freakin’ Pierce.

  “Sorry, sir!” I laugh, giving him a hard squeeze. The steel band of his championship ring press
es into my skin.

  “That’s much better! Maybe the tales of your legendary arm are true after all.”

  He pats my shoulder and I feel like a little kid. He’s so much taller than I thought he was. I’m 6’2” myself, making him nearly 6’6” by my estimation and close to two-hundred and fifty pounds. He’s a damn truck.

  “Well, I don’t know about that—”

  “Never tone down your strengths, Junior,” he says, leaning in. “Even if you have to fake it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shakes his head. “None of that sir stuff. Coach is fine.”

  I beam like a damn jester in the presence of the king. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Come on out back,” he says. “We’ve got a lot to go over tonight.”

  Ty and I follow him through the foyer towards the back, passing through a huge kitchen before stepping out onto the lawn. The air is thick with the scent of barbecue and burning charcoal. A perfectly landscaped garden rests in the center, along with a large pool and a pool house on the other side of it.

  Our teammates linger around with sodas and plates stacked with burgers and chips. Ty instantly darts over to grab his own plate while I stand back, taking in the moment.

  I’m in Cary Pierce’s backyard.

  “Hey, Junior.”

  A light hand brushes my shoulder and I lock eyes with Bob, our assistant coach. He’s been around the university for nearly as long as Duncan was. “Hey,” I greet him.

  He chuckles at my expression. “Bit of a shock, eh?”

  “More than a bit!” I laugh. “I thought for sure you’d be our new coach.”

  Bob waves his hand. “With this old mug? Nah… I mean, I did, too, but when the school board called me about this… I didn’t argue with it. It’s what’s right for you boys.”

  I nod. It hasn’t sunk in at all yet. Cary Pierce is our new coach.

  “Hey, guys!” Pierce’s voice booms across the lawn, instantly grabbing our attention. He claps his hands together and scans the crowd, making sure to make eye contact with each one of us. “I can tell by the looks on your faces that I don’t have to introduce myself or list off my qualifications. But who I am isn’t important — you are. It’s an honor to meet you all. I look forward to getting some one-on-one time with each of you and, hopefully, being the coach you deserve.”