by Imani King
'Quarterback's Secret Baby'
By
Imani King
Copyright © 2016 Imani King
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 and over.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Contents
Chapter 1: Kaden
Chapter 2: Tasha
Chapter 3: Kaden
Chapter 4: Tasha
Chapter 5: Kaden
Chapter 6: Natasha
Chapter 7: Kaden
Chapter 8: Natasha
Chapter 9: Kaden
Chapter 10: Natasha
Chapter 11: Kaden
Chapter 12: Natasha
Chapter 13: Natasha
Chapter 14: Kaden
Chapter 15: Kaden
Chapter 16: Natasha
Chapter 17: Kaden
Chapter 18: Kaden
Chapter 19: Natasha
Chapter 20: Natasha
Chapter 21: Kaden
Chapter 22: Natasha
Chapter 23: Natasha
Chapter 24: Kaden
Chapter 25: Natasha
Chapter 26: Kaden
Chapter 27: Natasha
Chapter 28: Kaden
Chapter 29: Kaden
Chapter 30: Natasha
Chapter 31: Kaden
Chapter 32: Natasha
Chapter 33: Kaden
Chapter 34: Tasha
Chapter 35: Kaden
Chapter 36: Natasha
'A Highland Summer: The Billionaire's Nanny'
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17: Epilogue
Excerpt from 'Quarterback's Surprise Baby' by Imani King:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1: Kaden
I already knew who Natasha Greeley was before I watched her fall spectacularly across a traffic island outside Hawley's Grocery. She was in the fifth grade, the same class as me and she had the cutest damn dimples I'd ever seen, which was about as far as it went with girls when I was that age. I knew she was going to fall before she did - I almost called out when I spotted her wandering towards the island with her nose stuck in a book and a bag of groceries in her other hand but I assumed she'd seen it. She hadn't. I immediately ran over to where she was sprawled on the ground, covered in spaghetti sauce from a smashed jar.
"Are you OK?" I asked, bending down to gather apples and oranges as they rolled away across the asphalt in all different directions. "Are you hurt?"
She didn't answer at first. She just lay there with her eyes scrunched tightly - adorably - shut, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened. A flying piece of broken glass had hit her I could see a thin trail of blood running down one coltish ankle. "You're bleeding," I told her, trying to get her to open her eyes. "You cut your ankle, you should-"
"It's OK." She said curtly, as if I'd walked in on her doing something she shouldn't have been doing. She sat up and ran her hands through her thick, dark curls. "I'm fine."
"Do you need any he-"
"I'm fine. I need to get these groceries home in time for dinner."
I wanted to help. From that very first moment with Tasha Greeley part of me was driven to take care of her, even if she was having none of it. When I offered her my hand to help her up she ignored it.
"Are you sure?" I asked tentatively as she stood up and gathered the undamaged groceries. "I can go and tell them you need another jar of spaghetti sauce if you want to wait-"
"No," she reassured me, looking vaguely in my direction but refusing to catch my eye. "It's fine. I just need to get home."
So I handed over the fruit I'd gathered and watched, awed at her composure and slightly taken aback by the fact that she was so short with me - even in fifth grade the girls all seemed to have a habit of dissolving into giggles whenever I looked at them. Tasha marched off with her head held high, leaving a trail of spaghetti sauce footprints behind her.
I think maybe I loved her ever since that day.
Chapter 2: Tasha
I don't recall the precise moment I realized I would not be going to college. If it wasn't for my pride, I probably would have figured it out much sooner. I always got the best grades in all my classes and ever since Kindergarten my teachers used words like 'bright' and 'determined' to describe me. College was always the goal. I would have been the first Greeley to go, too. It wasn't about showing up my family - family is the most important thing in my life - it was about supporting them. Especially my mom, who raised three children alone, holding down two crappy jobs the entire time and never complaining once. I wanted to give her a break. After a lifetime of supporting everyone else I wanted her to be able to relax. I wanted her to know, not through my words but through my actions, that I was grateful for everything she did for me and my brother and sister.
She got sick when I was sixteen. She got sick and my older brother Ray got his girlfriend pregnant. We held on, because that's what we Greeleys do, but the future I'd always had in mind, the one where life is fair and good things happen to good people - even if it takes a long time - slowly slipped below the horizon and out of view. Ray moved back home with his girlfriend Alisha and I took on an afterschool job. My grades never slipped but we were barely hanging on. Every cent that came in - Ray worked, too, and so did Alisha - was needed. When my niece was born, Alisha had to quit work.
The moment of realization came during a meeting with my guidance counselor. She was an older woman, very kind and encouraging, but she didn't understand. She tried to argue with me.
"Tasha, I don't think delaying college is a good idea. You need to get out of this town and the longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be."
She wasn't wrong. "I know," I said quietly, "but my mom is sick and she can barely work these days. Without my salary, she won't be able to afford rent."
The guidance counselor, Mrs. Foster, nodded and pressed her lips together. "Yes, Tasha. I know your mother is having a difficult time. But how do you think you can help her more, in the long run? By staying here in Little Falls and working the kind of minimum wage job you're working right now, with no qualifications? Or by going to medical school and becoming a doctor, like you planned?"
I sighed. "But I won't be making any money for ten years or more! What is my family supposed to do?"
"Y
ou can take out student loans," Mrs. Foster replied. "I know it's a daunting idea but at least with a doctor's salary you have some hope of paying them back."
She still wasn't getting it. I knew she meant well, but I was starting to feel annoyed. "But my mom can't get student loans!" I exclaimed, leaning forward. "That's what I'm talking about. You're right that I can get them but what about my mom? What about my niece and my little sister? My brother can't support all of them!"
"You're going to have to make a choice. You're going to have to choose between following your own dreams and allowing your family to hold you back. And believe me, Tasha, I've been doing this a long time - if anyone has the potential to succeed it's you. I've never met someone your age with such determination. I just don't want to see you waste that. The world really is your oyster."
I kept my mouth shut because Mrs. Foster meant well and because she'd never been anything but supportive. But I could not agree with her assessment that my family was 'holding me back.' I wanted to ask her if she would go, in my position. If she would leave her own mother, her own family. But I already knew what the answer would be. Mrs. Foster didn't get it. A lot of people didn't get it. It wasn't their fault, but it would have been nice if they'd made just a little effort to understand that we didn't really live in the same world.
I left the meeting dejected, fighting the feeling that I was letting myself down somehow. No one really wanted to face the fact that me going to college would mean my mother losing the only home she'd known since her children were born, a shabby but impeccably kept little bungalow on the wrong side of town where she'd raised us after my father had left for good when I was five.
Such was my level of pre-occupation that I promptly walked smack into Kaden Barlow, Reinhardt High's star quarterback and the most popular guy in school, just outside the school doors.
"Hey!" He said, smiling his gorgeous, easy smile when he saw it was me. "Tasha Greeley. You still haven't learned to look where you're going, I see."
"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to push past him because I wasn't in the mood. He put himself in my path and wouldn't let me go.
"Jesus, slow down a sec, will you? Why do you always act like-" Kaden paused as soon as he got a look at my face. "Oh. Hey, Tasha. Is something wrong?"
I wasn't going to cry. There was no way I was going to cry. Not in front of Kaden Barlow, anyway. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Nope, nothing's wrong. I just have to be somewhere."
"Huh, OK. You sure?"
"Yup," I replied, keeping my voice steady and clear.
"Cool. So anyway, Tasha. I was wondering if you wanted to come to the game on Friday. The Reinhardt Tigers game. The, uh, the football team. I-"
"I know who the Tigers are, Kaden."
He looked at me sharply. "I know you know who they are. Why are you always so touchy, Tasha? I'm just trying to ask you to a football game."
He was excited about the game, I could hear it in his voice, that note of pride. Unfortunately, the last thing I wanted to do was go to a football game and watch all the cheerleaders falling all over themselves to get a few crumbs from Kaden's table. I didn't even know why he was asking me. Ever since that day in the parking lot it was like Mr. Popular couldn't handle the fact that there was one person on earth who didn't immediately fall in love the minute he gave them a moment of his time. There was also the fact that I had bigger things than football on my mind.
"I don't know," I said. "I think I'm working on Friday night."
Kaden stayed where he was, looking down at me (he was very tall, even at seventeen) for a few seconds like he wasn't sure if he was annoyed or amused. Finally, he said something.
"Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Tasha?"
"What?" I asked, glaring at him.
"I said, why are you always such a pain in the ass?"
"Oh I heard you," I replied, "I just don't understand what you're talking about and I'm not sure why you're being so rude."
Kaden laughed and that bothered me even more. The ego on him! I bet he never got turned down. It happens one time and he flips out? I wanted to tell him to grow up. But I also wanted to get home.
"Really?" Kaden asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Really, Tasha? You have no idea what I'm talking about?"
"No, I'm sorry, I don't." I snapped.
"Liar."
"Excuse me!?"
"Look," Kaden drawled, his posture completely relaxed like he knew it would get under my skin. "You've always been standoffish with me and I never could get why. Is it because of that incident in the parking lot back when we were kids? I mean, all I was trying to do was help. I guess I'm just not sure what your problem is, I've always tried to be nice to you."
I had always been standoffish with Kaden Barlow. I had to be. He was handsome, popular, loved by everyone in town. He could have any girl he wanted. He was exactly the kind of guy I had to be careful around. He wasn't wrong about the incident in the parking lot, either. Every time I thought about it I cringed, even years later. I don't know why, but I don't handle screwing up in front of people well. I can't laugh it off the way other people can. I just find it excruciating.
"OK," I said. "OK, Kaden. I'm sorry if you think I've been a pain in the ass. I didn't mean to be. It's just - it's just how I am."
I moved to walk past him but this time, he put his hands on my shoulders and spun me around so I was facing him. "Tasha!"
"WHAT?" I yelled, not sure why he was so keen to keep poking at me.
"Will you please just come to the damn football game on Friday!?" He yelled back.
We both stood there for a few seconds, waiting for the other one to say something. When neither of us did we both started laughing.
"There. See. You can laugh. You look so cute when you laugh, Tasha. Your dimples-"
"Ugh," I held up my hand, stopping him. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
I looked into Kaden's ice-colored eyes. Properly this time. "Just...don't. I said I'd come to the game. Don't push your luck."
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "OK. I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, I was just trying to pay you a compliment, but OK. I'll come pick you up at six, how does that sound?"
Hell no. He was definitely not coming to pick me up. I knew the neighborhood Kaden lived in - on the other side of town, nowhere close to mine. "I'll meet you there. Outside the ticket booth." I told him.
"Cool. See you then, dimples." Kaden grinned and turned on his heels, walking away before he even had time to register the frown on my face.
I spent the rest of the walk home in a state of acute but not exactly unpleasant stress. Kaden Barlow was, to put it subtly, a total hottie. I mean even apart from his popularity and his being good at everything and always succeeding at everything he tried. He was so hot I could hardly stand to look at him. Truthfully, that was probably a good part of the reason why I'd been so snippy with him. I didn't want to be another one of those silly girls trailing around after him. I also didn't want to come anywhere close to actually developing feelings for him. And that meant keeping my distance. Which, so far, is what I'd managed to do.
Chapter 3: Kaden
Finally. Finally I'd managed to get Tasha Greeley to agree to spend some time with me. Or at least some time watching me play, which I was pretty happy about because I'm good at football and Tasha seemed maddeningly difficult to impress. Which just made me all the more determined to impress her.
I didn't see her at school once before the game that Friday. I didn't even hear that adorable, cascading giggle of hers, which I had become embarrassingly adept at picking out of a crowd.
We always dressed up a little before a game but that Friday afternoon I took a little extra care, making sure I wore the pale blue shirt that emphasized the breadth of my shoulders. I borrowed one of my dad's belts, too, and he couldn't resist asking me if it was because I was trying to impress a girl.
"No," I lied, trying to look casual.
; "You sure, Kaden?" My dad teased. "You're wearing cologne, too. I can smell it. Who's the special lady?"
My mom picked that moment to walk into my room. She immediately joined in with my dad. "Special lady? Who is it? Is it that little blonde girl - what was her name? Ashley?"
It was definitely not Ashley. It was always funny when my parents teased me about girls, though. They knew I wasn't a choirboy but there was definitely some weird form of pride going on there. The most that ever happened was my dad slipping me a condom before I went out and giving me a wink and a slap on the back.
"Naw, it's not her," I told them, not really eager to talk about Tasha in that joking way we always talked about girls I might be seeing.
"Huh. It sounds like you like this one!" My mom smiled, walking up to me and kissing my cheek. "Good luck tonight, honey. Your father and I will be there for the final whistle."
I left before my dad could continue the interrogation and drove to the stadium. It took a few minutes to figure out that my uncharacteristic nervousness wasn't even about the game - it was about Tasha. Tasha Greeley. The one girl I could not figure out. I'd tried repeatedly to get her to go out with me but she always treated me with this weird defensiveness that I couldn't make sense of. She couldn't possibly still be embarrassed about the spaghetti sauce incident outside the grocery store, could she? So what was her deal? When she was with her friends she was always laughing and smiling, but whenever I tried to interact with her she went all stiff and abrupt. I'd never given her a reason to dislike me. So what the hell?
She was standing alone by the main ticket booth, I spotted her as I looked for a parking spot. God, she was so fucking beautiful. Fitted leggings and a pink hoodie - she looked good enough to eat. It wasn't just the obvious stuff, though. It wasn't just the peachy curve of her ass in those leggings or the way she bit her lower lip sometimes when she was thinking. There was something self-possessed about her - a rare trait in the girls I knew. Even covered in spaghetti sauce at age ten and so embarrassed she couldn't look me in the eye it had been there, that refusal to surrender her dignity. It made me insanely curious. I parked the SUV and snuck up behind her.
