Quarterback's Secret Baby (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)

by Ivy Jordan

  “I will love you forever,” he said to me.

  “As will I,” I whispered.

  And just like that, we were man and wife. We held hands as we made our way back down the aisle towards our future.

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  SEAL MOUNTAIN MAN

  By Ivy Jordan

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan

  Chapter One

  Elijah

  Fireworks exploded over the ocean in a wild display of color. I leaned back in my lounger, took a long swig of my fifth beer, and watched the world celebrate the New Year. Big fuckin’ deal.

  The Miami winter breeze was cool, actually cool enough to send shivers up my arms. It couldn’t be excitement from the lights in the sky; I’d seen plenty of those overseas, and they weren’t celebration lights.

  My thoughts drifted to the men lost over the years during service. Good men, strong men; men that I was proud I’d known. I often wondered why I came back home instead of them, why was I spared? What the hell did I have to offer this world? Quit feeling sorry for yourself, sissy pants, my dad’s voice echoed in my mind. It made me laugh. Not because it was funny, or even endearing. I just found it odd that I was even thinking about the old man.

  Loud reports from the fireworks brought my attention back to the sky. It was the finale, the sendoff that alerted all who watched that it was midnight, and a new year had just begun.

  Silhouettes of couples on the beach just below my deck hugged, kissed, and clung to one another like they feared the ocean breeze would carry them off, never to be seen again. Another thing that made me laugh. Kissing a loved one at midnight on the New Year, how was that supposed to bring you luck? I didn't buy into it any more than I bought into eating sauerkraut to bring good luck into the next year. Blah! No thank you, on either tradition.

  I’d been alone since I got back to the states, and that’s just how I liked it—for now, anyway. Women were everywhere, easy to seduce with my backstory of fallen soldiers, combat stories, and a few flexes of my thick muscles. An emergency always called me away, kept me from staying overnight and facing that awkward morning after. It was best that way. I wasn’t exactly boyfriend material or husband material; not like Isaac. He never shut up about Maddie the entire time we served together, and at one point, I really thought he’d made the girl up in his mind just to keep him sane during those chaotic times. We all wanted someone to love back home, someone who was waiting for us, praying for us, and that would welcome us home with open arms. I knew I didn’t have that, and I learned not to care.

  I mocked love, at least until I watched my old pal get the girl of his dreams. He was willing to risk anything, everything, just to keep her safe, even if it meant losing her forever. Wow, now that’s enough to make anyone believe in love. I just wasn’t sure love was right for me.

  My phone lit up like an encore to the fireworks show, beeping hysterically as texts flooded through. I opened my messages, read through all the generic texts from friends, ex-lovers, and SEAL brothers, all wishing me well in the new year. I slid to the last text, one that stopped me short.

  Unknown: Elijah, please call me as soon as possible regarding your father’s estate.

  I stared at the text from the unknown number, wondering if it possible to be the wrong number, the wrong Elijah. My dad was a strong, willful, old man. He couldn’t die.

  It was midnight, after midnight. Who would send such a text so late? Shit, Molokai, Hawaii was six hours behind Miami time, so it was only six o’clock there. It wasn’t a wrong number.

  Is this how I wanted to start my year? Not kissing someone, not eating sauerkraut, but calling whoever this was to talk about my father’s estate? Fuckin’ traditions, just because I didn’t follow through, this is how my year starts?

  I hit the number above the text, and held the phone to my ear.

  “John Sanderson, here,” a cheerful voice greeted me after just three rings.

  “This is Elijah Grant. You left me a message…” I trailed off as he interrupted my explanation.

  “Yes, Elijah. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m sure your father’s death was no surprise given his illness,” he spouted.

  “Illness?” I questioned.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you knew. He’d been battling cancer for several years now. He was a fighter, your old man; stubborn as a mule, and determined to prove the doctors wrong,” the man chuckled.

  “I can only imagine,” I exhaled.

  Why hadn’t he told me about his illness? He never called, but then again, neither did I. Coming back from overseas, I made Florida my home, never planning on going back to Hawaii, ever.

  “Well, the matter of the home here is why I’m calling. You are the next of kin, and he did have you named in his last will and testament, even though it was never properly filed. The home is yours to do with as you wish, I just need to have you sign a few papers,” John Sanderson, bearer of bad news, spoke quickly.

  “Just sell it,” I sighed.

  It was my childhood home, one that didn’t carry too many happy memories. I didn’t want it. “We can surely do that, but I’ll still need you to sign some papers,” he instructed.

  “I’ll make plans for the trip, but it will be a couple weeks,” I explained without detail for my delay.

  “That will be fine. I’ll send you my office address. You can come pick up the keys and make your final decision from there,” he offered, like I would change my mind once I stepped foot in that house. No thanks.

  “Sure,” I rushed, saying a quick goodbye, and hanging up the phone.

  My head was spinning. My father was sick? Battling cancer? For years? Just like good ole’ dad to keep that to himself. I’m sure it was his plan to have me find out just this way, surprised, shocked, and of course, left with the guilt of not knowing, not helping, and not being able to say goodbye.

  I reached into my cooler, grabbed another beer, and stared up at the sky. Smoke still lingered from the sparks, but no more bright colors remained.

  *

  The light of the day didn’t bring any more clarity to my situation than the eerie darkness of the smoke-filled sky the night before. My father was dead. The house, my childhood home, was now mine to do with as I wished. I laughed as I said the man’s statement in my head. To do with as I wish. Burn it?

  Alcohol was still flowing in my veins thicker than blood, and it was nearly noon. Thoughts of my dad caused me to drink too much, and passing out on the back deck with the cool Miami winter air had left my joints aching. I pulled off my t-shirt and headed down the steps towards the beach. A few people were laying out, another couple walked the shoreline looking for shells, but other than that, it was quiet, empty, peaceful.

  My feet hit the warm sand, my weight pushing it between my toes as I took each step. Once I reached the flattened, damp sand, I took off running, stretching out every damn muscle in my body. It hurt like hell, but felt familiar and comfortable, somehow soothing. Long runs during training nearly brought tears to my eyes in the beginning. This is what it felt like being stretched like one of those rubber wrestling dolls I had as a kid. I picked up the pace, grinding my teeth against the pain, running nowhere, away, just running.

  Sweet familiar pain.

  A mile down the beach I slowed down, letting the burn of my muscles take center stage. A couple cuties were spread out on towels near the softer sand as I headed towards the beachfront café. My dick flinched, alerting me to the scantily clad beauties, but my mind was elsewhere. It was on the burn, the pain, my dad, somewhere. The young blonde lifted from her towel, rising up enough for me to catch a glimpse of her full, round breasts that nearly popped from
her green bikini top. Her red lips puckered and her nose wrinkled as she looked into the sun to check out who was nearby. I nodded, doing my best to keep my eyes on hers, and not the tanned mounds that tempted my dick. Her smile was sweet, inviting, and I knew with just one move, she’d be mine, at least for one night.

  Her friend lifted up as I neared them, a hateful look on her face as I blocked her sun. The blonde was still smiling, still watching, but I just kept walking. Damn, what a missed opportunity.

  “Hey, Elijah,” Keith, the café owner greeted me as I entered. The room was dark, most of the tables empty, but the place still felt inviting and warm.

  “Did you run everyone off?” I chuckled, moving towards the counter.

  “They must’ve seen you comin’; place was packed up until a few minutes ago,” he teased.

  He didn’t even ask; he just poured me a large coffee in a Styrofoam cup to go. “You check those hotties out on your way in?” he motioned towards the girls lying out on the beach. I nodded. “What’s gotten into you?” he questioned.

  It was obvious my mood had shifted. Normally, I would have stopped to talk to the girls, got a number, maybe two, and made a date. I would be in here bragging to Keith about my conquests, or possibly lying about them.

  “Got a strange call last night,” I mentioned, leaning against the counter as I stared out at the girls.

  “Oh yeah?” he probed.

  “My dad died.”

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry to hear that,” Keith’s eyes widened as he spoke.

  “Ahhh, it’s just now I’ve gotta head back to Hawaii and deal with his house,” I complained.

  “Oh man, that sounds horrible. Hawaii, huh?” Keith half-chuckled.

  I grinned, appreciating him lifting the tone of our conversation. “Yup. Gonna be rough to handle all that tanned ass on my own,” I smirked.

  Keith tossed his white cleaning towel over his shoulder and shook his head. As he walked out from behind the counter, he patted me on the back. “If you need anything,” he said and paused. I knew what he meant. He was a good friend, and he’d be there for whatever I needed. I just didn’t know if I needed anything.

  I sipped my coffee as I headed back out onto the beach. The cute little blonde eyed me as I made my way back down onto the sand. “Hey,” she called out. I turned to look in her direction. She was waving me towards her and her friend with a wide smile smeared across her face.

  I walked over, standing over them, blocking their sun, wondering to myself, why in the hell I wasn’t pouncing on that. “What’s up?” I asked casually.

  “Is your name Elijah?” she smiled, scooting her sunglasses to her nose.

  “It is,” I said reluctantly, trying desperately to determine if this was a forgotten one night stand gone wrong.

  “My sister dated you. Sandy,” she batted her eyes.

  Dated? Fucked, maybe, but dated, I believe not. I smiled, nodded. “Tell her I said hi.”

  I started to turn away, ready to make my way back to my beach house and plan the dreaded trip to my childhood home when she stopped me. “Wait,” she said sweetly. “Is there a rule about dating the younger sister?” she giggled.

  Oh hell. For the love of all that is holy, my dick screamed against my basketball shorts with all his might. “I don’t believe there is,” I grinned, suddenly finding more interest in this young cutie.

  “Here,” she said, handing me a card she quickly dug from her beach bag. I stared at it: massage therapist, Krissy. Sweet heaven and hell. “Call me,” she winked.

  “May be awhile. I’m headed to Hawaii in a few days,” I explained.

  “I’ll wait,” she smiled as her friend wrinkled her nose at me; this time I didn’t think it was because I blocked her sun.

  I smiled, turned, and walked away, feeling the rush of blood flowing to my cock so forcefully that I knew not even thinking about baseball, combat, or Roseanne Barr was going to stop this erection. I took off running, trying my best to look casual with the stiffened muscle between my legs. I made it about half-way to my beach house, and out of range of the girls, and headed into the ocean.

  The cold water sent shivers down my spine and resolved me of the problem that grew between my legs without hesitation.

  Shit, her card. I reached into my pocket, the wet card still displayed her number but was beginning to fall apart from the water. I made my way to the beach and then walked to my house with the card in my hand. I wasn’t going to call. I wasn’t sure why; I just knew I wasn’t. That wasn’t what I needed right now, maybe ever again. Maybe what I needed was to grow the fuck up.

  I crumpled the card and tossed it in the trashcan outside my back door. I shook off, stripped from my wet shorts right there in broad daylight, and headed inside to look for a towel. My phone blinked on the table, catching my attention before I could dry off.

  Isaac’s number displayed under missed calls, so I called it back. “Hey, Happy New Year,” Isaac blurted as he answered.

  “Happy New Year to you and Maddie,” I returned the gesture.

  “I wish you could’ve made it last night,” Isaac expressed his disappointment through a soft tone in his voice.

  I’d forgotten all about the party actually. I knew it would be couples, mainly him and Maddie, and Beth and her new man. I wasn’t in the mood to be a single guy at a couple’s party. “Something came up; sorry,” I lied.

  “That’s okay. I figured you found a little hot thing to spend New Year’s Eve with,” he chuckled enviously.

  “You know me,” I lied again. “Hey, you wanna grab lunch, and maybe a drink?” I asked.

  “Sure. Is there something wrong?” he questioned.

  I paused. “No. I just want to catch up,” I explained.

  We agreed on a place, and planned to meet in an hour, giving me enough time to wash the sand out of the crack of my ass, and figure out what I was going to say. I didn’t want him to get all weird and sentimental; I just needed him to know I was leaving, and why.

  Isaac sat on a stool at the far end of the bar. I walked up to him without being noticed, slapping him on the back, making him jump. “Hey,” he greeted me cheerfully and quickly motioned for the bartender. “Two more, please,” he ordered.

  I sat down beside him, envying the happiness and contentment in his eyes. “You look good,” I admitted.

  “I can’t complain. Life’s pretty damn good,” he smiled.

  I gripped my beer, bringing it to my lips as soon as the bartender sat it in front of me. Isaac started talking, and filling the dead space with details about the party he’d had the night before, and how Maddie made an amazing sauerkraut dish so everyone would have good luck in the new year. “I didn’t eat sauerkraut; guess I should’ve,” I half-laughed.

  Isaac’s eyes turned to me, narrowing as they stared into mine. “Bad luck already?” he questioned.

  I laughed, moving my eyes from his to my beer. I stared at the dark golden liquid swirling in my glass, and then took a long drink before replying. “My dad died.”

  He had the same reaction as Keith at the café, his tone filled with sorrow, and his hand on my shoulder for comfort. Funny thing, I didn’t need comfort. I really didn’t have any emotions overflowing inside of me, other than the confusion from not being emotional.

  “I have to go to Hawaii and deal with the house, and all his stuff,” I said between drinks.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Couple days. That’s why I wanted to see ya, to let you know I’d be away awhile,” I explained.

  “That’s gonna be a rough trip. You need me to tag along?” Isaac offered.

  “No. There’s no need for you to leave Maddie. I can handle it alone,” I replied with a smile.

  “You know, all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you talk about your dad,” Isaac pointed out.

  “There’s a reason for that,” I snorted, and then finished my beer.

  “Isn’t Xander living in Hawaii?” he asked.
<
br />   I was glad that he left the topic of my father alone and moved on. I knew my tone made it obvious I wasn’t ready to talk about my dad, with him, or anyone. I hadn’t thought about Xander in a couple years. The wild man in our brotherhood, the daredevil, risk taker, the first one to jump in front of the enemy… damn I missed Xander. “Yeah, but I doubt I’d find him,” I laughed.

  “I heard he took refuge in the mountains like some kind of Grizzly Adams,” Isaac joked.

  “He never did like people,” I mentioned.

  The bartender brought us another round as Isaac’s hand moved in the air. It was nice reminiscing about Xander, but it made me remember those that we lost. “Time flies,” I sighed, realizing I was pushing thirty and hadn’t done anything with my life.

  “That’s why you gotta make the best of it,” Isaac slapped me on the back.

  I knew he was trying to make me feel better about my life as he began bringing up my freedom, all the hot women, and how I had life by the horns, able to do whatever I wanted. I knew he was only soothing my pain. There was no way Isaac would give up what he had with Maddie for my life or anyone else’s. He’d made the best out of him life, I… well, I just didn’t.

  Chapter Two

  Taylor

  The large cardboard box was more awkward than heavy, making it tough to prop it on my knee to open the door to my new office. “Here, let me,” Mitchell, my new boss pushed past me and opened the door.

  “Thank you,” I smiled as I walked into the building.

  The office was clean, decorated with drab colors, and didn’t provide the warm welcome that I felt necessary for a therapist’s lobby. Mitchell took the box from my hands and walked it to my new office. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said with a warm smile. He was tall, lanky, and has pointy features that reminded me of Ichabod Crane. I nodded as he set the box on my desk, a large mahogany antique with detailed carvings. It was the only thing of mine in the office, other than the box just deposited by Mitchell. The file cabinet in the corner, the tall, ugly floor lamp, and the ridiculous posters on the walls, those weren’t mine. My eyes scanned the room, stopping on the poster that had been framed of a kitten hanging on a clothesline. “Hang in There” it read, almost making me giggle aloud. “You can decorate however you’d like,” Mitchell said, obviously reading my disapproval of the décor.