Fake Marriage to a Baller: A Wilder Brothers Romance

by Aria Scott

  “Chase,” she said, as we hugged.

  “Mom. Good to see you.” I felt a nostalgia wash over me, for a time when things were simpler. Cleaner.

  It felt good to be home.

  She beamed at me, her gaze drinking me in. Petite and small-boned, she didn’t look capable of having produced me and Gage, or my other brothers. We were all big, muscular guys. Even my sister Dakota was on the tall side. Still, Mom commanded our love and respect like a five-star general commanded his troops. Not a single one of us would ever do anything to hurt her feelings, especially now that Dad had passed and we were the only men in her life. She just had to give us that certain look, and we all jumped to make her happy.

  She hooked her arm in mine. “Come on in. I changed the sheets in your old room, so you’re all set.”

  We walked inside, with Gage right behind us.

  “Luke around?” I asked.

  “He’s downtown, working at that new PI business of his,” my mom replied, as she steered me toward the kitchen.

  “How about Dakota? She doing ok at college?”

  “Nothing but straight A’s for that girl..” She poured the three of us glasses of lemonade from the refrigerator, and then told Gage and me to join her on the porch.

  Like cubs following a mama bear, we trooped after her, through the vaulted foyer with its crystal chandelier, and onto the traditional, column-bound porch with its rocking chairs. We took seats, and then she fixed her attention on me. “So, Chase, what’s been going on in your life? And what in heaven’s name happened to your foot?”

  I spent the next few hours shooting the shit with my brother and mom, and caught them up on the life of a guy who chased pigskin for a living. What I didn’t mention was the fact that my agent wanted me to find a wife who could rescue my reputation. The last thing I needed was my mom trying to set me up on blind dates with a bunch of townies she’d insist were the most wholesome, smartest, and sweetest girls in all of Oklahoma.

  Lucky for him, Gage kept his mouth shut, too. Instead, we discussed who I’d see in Tulsa for physical therapy, and where I could work out, so I was ready for training camp. As efficient as ever, my mom made an appointment for me on the spot to see a physical therapist the following day. Being a professional football player had many perks, and one of them was the fact that doctors were eager to treat you.

  When I collapsed onto my bed that night, and stared at the old posters of my favorite college football teams, I felt confident that my ankle sprain was no more than a bump in the road. Soon, I’d be ready to make some decent catches and run the ball into the end zone.

  I only wished the marriage part would be as easy.

  The next morning, I got up early. Hilda, my mother’s live-in housekeeper, cooked me a Western omelet and a side of bacon that would keep me full for a day, and then I was turning a key in the Mustang’s ignition. I was heading to the physical therapist’s office and not really anticipating the therapy, because I knew it would be grueling, to say the least. I could only hope for a cute therapist’s assistant and a massage afterward.

  I drove down the gravel driveway toward the main road, the Mustang purring like a kitten, yet straining to move forward at the same time. The car just wanted to go fast and, when I turned onto the highway, I surrendered to the urge and let the engine out. We roared down US Highway 54, the early morning sunshine hot on my head. Keeping a weather eye out for cops, I red-lined the engine on a straightaway and then slowed down only after I’d closed in on a few other cars.

  I glanced at my watch, and noticed I’d be more than early for my appointment with the physical therapist. On a whim, I turned down a side road that went through a tract of woods that the locals used to call Duke’s Forest. The place had always been beautiful, and time hadn’t changed it. Newly-budding trees and spring flowers hugged the sides of the road, reminding me that it wasn’t that hard to turn over a new leaf. After all, they did it every year.

  At one point, the forest cleared and became a series of grassy fields, with the Grand Lake a few miles beyond. I slowed down then, determined to enjoy the scenery and the morning, when suddenly I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A mother duck and five baby ducklings waddled at the edge of the road. They were moving onto the asphalt. They wanted to cross.

  I slammed my foot on the brake. Didn’t get my other foot on the clutch in time. The car stalled. I lost power to the steering wheel. All at once, the Mustang had all the grace of a garbage truck. We skidded across the road, the tires kicking up a shower of stones, and headed straight for the ducklings.

  “Goddamn it!” I yelled out loud.

  My heart thumped in my chest. Hard. I grabbed the steering wheel and hauled on it with every ounce of football muscle I owned. The Mustang fishtailed wildly.

  Just as I thought I was going to pull the car out of its uncontrolled slide, miraculously unscathed, some lunatic jumped out of the bushes-- it was a woman. I yanked the steering wheel in the opposite direction. Saw a flash of red hair, wide-open eyes and a mouth set in a perfect circle. She was waving her hands and shouting something.

  The car fishtailed wildly again, this time away from the ducklings and woman, and toward a ditch. I held on to the steering wheel, the world pinwheeling crazily around me, until finally, the Mustang hit something that couldn’t be moved. I felt an impact like a linebacker on my chest, and then everything was still and quiet.

  I heard heavy breathing and realized it was my own. Slowly, and checking each muscle and bone in my body for injury, I climbed out of the car. Stepped back and looked at it. Saw that I’d run my car into a ditch. A huge mound of dirt on the opposite side of the ditch had likely kept the car from rolling over and killing me. But my ankle...well, it throbbed like a mother.

  “Goddamn it!” I narrowed my eyes and glanced toward the cause of this clusterfuck.

  She stood there, petite, innocent-looking, with ducklings scattered around her. Her curling red hair shone like molten fire in the sun, and her green eyes flashed with fury at me.

  She was pissed. And perfectly fine. I heaved a huge sigh when I realized both she and the ducklings had escaped without having even a hair--or feather--on their heads harmed.

  But my sigh quickly turned into a growl. I couldn’t believe how she’d so recklessly thrown herself in front of the car to save a few ducklings, and nearly killed us both.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled. “Don’t you look before crossing the road?” I didn’t wait to hear her response, because nothing she could say would justify her idiotic behavior. Instead, I started to circle the car, looking for damage. When I saw the rear quarter panel had been crushed, I cursed some more. Loud and long. And then circled again.

  The bumper, I noticed, had been partially torn from the body of the car.

  “Holy crap. This is going to take weeks to fix,” I muttered, then noticed, for the first time, that she wasn’t saying anything to defend herself.

  I paused.

  She was still standing there, looking at me, her cheeks flushed red. The ducklings had scattered off into the grass.

  My gaze dropped lower. I couldn’t help but notice that her tank top did little to hide a beautiful body. She was breathing heavy, like I was, and her full breasts strained against the thin cotton, showing me a set of hardened little nipples and a mouthwatering eyeful of cleavage. Who was she? And why hadn’t one of my brothers mentioned that a sexy redhead lived just a few miles from the ranch? They all knew how much I liked redheads…

  Still, I didn’t need trouble like this, now that I was trying to go from football’s Number One Bad Boy to The Saint of Grove, Oklahoma. And I sure as shit didn’t need my Mustang banged up, after all that work I’d put into it.

  “Can you please tell me what you were thinking, when you jumped in front of my car?” I lifted my hands in a WTF gesture. “Are you completely insane?”

  Chapter 4

  Aubrey

  “Are you completely in
sane?”

  I was busy making sure the baby ducklings had all safely crossed the road, so I didn’t pay much attention to the ranting lunatic circling around his car, inspecting for damage.

  “I could have banged up my car. Or killed us both! You’re damn lucky I’m an excellent driver.”

  After the last duckling had made it safely into the reedy grass, I turned the full force of my annoyance toward the man. “Excellent driver? You were going way over the speed limit. You almost mowed down a group of baby ducklings!”

  He stood up from examining the car’s side panel and turned to face me. I immediately recognized the gorgeous hunk standing a mere ten feet from me. Chase Wilder. Star athlete of St. John’s High School turned professional football player. Pride and joy of Grove, Oklahoma. Football’s favorite bad boy. And world’s biggest manwhore alive. I felt my jaw clench in irritation. He looked even hotter than he had in high school.

  Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Baby ducklings? You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady.”

  It was obvious that he didn’t recognize me. Although he was two years older, we had been in a few of the same classes in high school. I had even tutored him for math class, hoping against all hope that he’d hit on me or at least cop a naughty feel. After all, the joke was that he’d chase just about anything in skirts. But, he’d been all business when it came to studying. It still stung my pride to this day.

  Even as the bitter memory of his rejection surfaced, I could feel his gaze boldly roaming over my body, judging my every attribute, but mostly lingering on my chest. I wished that I’d had more time to change out of the skimpy tank top and into something more respectable before I ran off after Jax, but I could tell by his cocky half-smile that he was clearly enjoying the view. I crossed my arms defiantly, blocking his gaze, but not before I was sure he caught a glimpse of my traitorous nipples hardening in automatic reaction to the sexual suggestion smoldering in his eyes.

  “Ugh!” I grunted in disgust.

  His smile only widened. “So what are you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere, popping out of the bushes and jumping onto the road like a crazy woman? Are you the duckling crossing guard or something?”

  I wanted to stomp my foot in protest of his smug self-confidence. “For your information, I was looking for my dog who ran off. He’s an Australian Shepherd and I want to find him before some asshole comes along and flattens him with his car.”

  He had the nerve to look skeptical. Almost as if he thought I’d come out here purposefully – not for my dog, but to run into him. “I don’t see any dog around here.”

  “I had almost caught up to him before you came barreling down the road in that…that car. You scared him away.”

  He leaned against the hood of his car. He looked like a model posing for a photo shoot. No, he looked better than a model. Although his body was as lean and sculpted as any fitness model, he also looked capable of crushing any of those pretty boy types with one hand. And the glimpse of the few tattoos I could see peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt and running down his arms gave him a slightly dangerous look. He was a man you didn’t want to mess with. Unless you were a woman. Then you wanted to rip off his expensive jeans and see just what was hiding under there.

  “This car, the one that you almost wrecked, happens to be a ’68 Mustang. And you’re damn lucky that your dog didn’t end up as roadkill under its tires. Next time you should keep him from wandering around in the road.”

  My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Well, next time you should just…you should – oh! Just go away.”

  He didn’t seem phased by my outburst. “What’s his name?”

  “Whose?” Why was I getting so frazzled? Was it the mere sight of his thick muscled arms or the brownish-blonde messy hair that made him look like he’d just crawled out of bed? Was it his perfect white teeth that flashed a sinful smile when he knew he had gotten under my skin or the piercing brown eyes that seemed to ruthlessly strip me of my clothes with no apology?

  I caught a glimpse of a slight dimple as he smiled slowly - like he knew how I had been mentally drooling all over him. “Your dog’s. What’s his name?”

  I made an effort to focus. “Jax.”

  He brought his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle. He called out, “Jax!”

  To my utter disbelief, Jax came running out of the high grass, as if he’d been waiting just out of sight the whole time.

  “I can’t believe it! There you are. C’mere boy.” I knelt down as Jax came loping my way, awaiting our messy reunion as he would undoubtedly slather my face with slobber, but instead he trotted right past me and over to Chase.

  He chuckled his amusement. He leaned forward and scratched Jax behind his ears. “Hey, Jax. I can see why you sometimes need to get away from Miss Wound-Up-Tight over there, but it’s time to go home now. See the steam coming out of her ears? Yeah, that means she mad.”

  My toe tapped on the ground impatiently. “Very funny. Now if you wouldn’t mind, stop scratching his ears. I’m late enough as it is. Come on, Jax. It’s time to go.”

  When Chase stopped petting him, Jax pushed his nose up against his hand, begging for more. “Looks like Jax would prefer to stay with me.”

  I saw the smug challenge in Chase’s eyes and it infuriated me. “Jax, you little traitor. Get over here.” It figured that today would be the day for Jax to play Benedict Arnold.

  “I guess he really likes me.” He nudged Jax away with his foot. “Go on, Jax. Be a good dog and get out of here.”

  Jax stood up but lingered around Chase, sniffing at his feet. I was about to throw my arms up in despair when I saw Jax lifting his leg. That could only mean one thing…

  I was too late. Before I could warn Chase, Jax was peeing all over his foot, which I just realized was wrapped in a cast of some sort.

  Chase began hopping around and trying to wipe his foot on the grass. “Jesus Christ! He just pissed on my walking cast.”

  The sight of Chase bouncing around awkwardly on one foot was so comical that I couldn’t suppress my laughter, which earned me a disgusted look from him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said between hoots of laughter. I tried valiantly to compose myself while he tried to shake the dog pee off his foot. “It’s just his way of showing love to you. Or maybe he’s just asserting his dominance over you. Either way, I agree: he definitely likes you.”

  He shook his head and muttered. “This bullshit probably added an extra two weeks to my rehab time. You and your dog are both nuts, lady. I’m out of here.”

  I tried to apologize again as he hobbled back to his car, but he slammed the door and lurched out of the ditch, trying to escape as fast as possible.

  Jax must have had enough adventure for one day because he finally demurely walked over to my side as if nothing had happened.

  I gave Jax a friendly pat on his head. “Jax, you bad boy, you shouldn’t have peed on Chase’s foot. That was mean.”

  We started walking back to the house. I wondered what Chase had meant by rehab. Was he an alcoholic? A drug abuser? I shook my head. What did I care? I would probably never see him again. And as far as I was concerned, that would be soon enough.

  When I got back home, I took the world’s quickest shower, pulled my damp hair up in a loose bun and wiggled into my standard work uniform, a pair of black pants and a white blouse, as fast as humanly possible. While stopped in my car at one of the three traffic lights on my way to the restaurant, I applied a light dusting of makeup to my face and a simple swipe of pale pink lip-gloss to my lips. Despite the herculean effort to get ready fast, I was still 20 minutes late to my job.

  I snuck in the employee’s entrance, hoping I wouldn’t bump into my manager, Scott, right away. The kitchen was already bustling even though the evening had barely begun. I found a black server’s apron and wrapped it around my waist before heading to my section.

  Lisa squeezed my arm as she passed by me. “Covered you, girl. Scott just got in himself,
so he didn’t even notice. You owe me!”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Lisa and I were best friends, not just co-workers, and we watched out for each other. I knew without asking that she’d do anything for me--and I’d so the same for her.

  It was several hours before we got the chance to talk again.

  “So, where were you?” Lisa arched an eyebrow devilishly. “Let me guess, you were lazing around in bed all day with some stud after a night of passionate love-making.”

  I don’t know what annoyed me more, the fact that we both knew her guess was so ludicrous or that my mind immediately flashed to an image of myself rolling around the sheets with Chase Wilder.

  I swatted away the intrusive but sexy images forming in my head. “It was nothing that exciting. Jax escaped again and had me chasing him all over the place.”

  She grimaced. “That dog! I don’t know how you do it. Really!”

  I laughed at the outrage she felt on my behalf. “He’s definitely a handful. You wouldn’t believe what he did. Have you heard of Chase Wilder? He’s a professional football player from Grove--”

  “Chase Wilder!” Her eyes widened. “Of course I’ve heard of him. He’s only one of the hottest players in the league. His family comes in here sometimes. He’s got a bunch of gorgeous looking single brothers.”

  “That’s the one. Did you know that I went to high school with him? Anyway, he’s back in town. Jax and I ran into him after he drove his car into a ditch. It looks like he injured his foot playing football - he has some kind of soft cast on it - and Jax peed all over it!”

  “You’re kidding!” She looked astonished. “How embarrassing!”

  Shrugging like it was no big deal, I chuckled. “It was really quite funny.”