“You can use my Ferrari while you’re here. It’s in the garage,” Brayden said. “I want you to feel completely at home.”
“I walk around naked at home.”
Brayden grinned at Chenille’s flirtatious tone. He’d love to see her in all her ebony, naked glory. Maybe wearing a pair of expensive stilettos.
“You’re free to walk around however you want, but unfortunately I won’t get to enjoy it.”
“So, I’m only going to see you at your practices?”
“Well, we can go out to dinner, we just can’t . . . we can’t do anything else that you may have been expecting to happen, but it’s okay if you weren’t expecting it to happen. It’s okay if you don’t want it to happen.”
“Why are you talking in code?” Chenille asked. “I got it. You don’t want to have sex this week. Is it because of work?”
“Wait, were you offering . . .”
Chenille quickly shook her head. “I wasn’t offering, but to be honest, I hadn’t ruled it out. I just decided that if things went there, I wouldn’t try to stop them from going there.”
Damn training camp.
“As soon as training camp is over, I’m going to put a smile on your face that you won’t be able to wipe off.”
“Sex is banned during training camp, huh? How will your coach know? Y’all that close?”
Brayden howled with laughter. “We’re not that close. He somehow just knows. And the punishment he wreaks on the team because of one player’s indiscretion is brutal.”
“So, it’s more about the team, then. You don’t want to break the rules, because the team will have to pay.”
“Well, yeah. Everyone is abstaining, so it would be wrong . . .”
Brayden stopped talking because the twinkle in Chenille’s eyes made him think she was teasing him. Yeah. She was teasing him.
“Let’s just go inside,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? It’s late.”
“I know. I’m going to have to drop you off and head back, but I want you to enjoy the surprise first.”
Brayden grabbed Chenille’s bags out of the car and led her up the front walkway. She took in the careful landscaping and ornate trail of colorful rocks going up the walk.
“It’s sea glass. I found most of it myself on beaches all over the world.”
“You brought the beach home with you.”
“Yes. Both my houses have a sea glass walkway.”
“Your other home is in Dallas?”
Brayden nodded as he opened the door. “Mmm-hmm. Southlake.”
Chenille pressed her lips together tightly as she walked through the door. Brayden couldn’t read her expression yet, but he wanted to know what she was thinking.
“You don’t like Southlake?” Brayden asked.
“It’s nice. . . .”
“But?”
“But I think positive male role models shouldn’t leave our neighborhoods when they make it. It would be nice for young boys to see you in the community.”
“They do see me in the community. I run mini-camps for kids in the off-season.”
Brayden watched Chenille’s gaze as she took in the chandelier in the foyer and his artwork. He’d hired an interior designer when he bought the condo, but Chenille’s assessing eyes made him wish he’d refreshed his décor.
“You have good taste,” Chenille said.
“Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”
She chuckled. “What’s the surprise?”
“Oh, it’s in the master suite. Follow me.”
Brayden left Chenille’s bags in the foyer and took her hand. He liked the way her tiny hand felt in his, and the way she squeezed it. It was a warm squeeze that made Brayden feel chosen.
He opened the door to the master suite, and Chenille squealed with excitement. He had transformed the entire space into a mini-spa. Three massage therapists waited with smiling faces. The scent of roses and jasmine filled the room as the master bath was filled with rose petals and essential oils.
“Welcome home,” one of the massage therapists said.
The smile on Chenille’s face was reward enough for his hard work in putting this together.
“This feels like . . . a dream,” Chenille said.
“A good dream?”
Chenille threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in. She kissed him deeply and passionately, ignoring the giggles of the massage therapists. Having her fingers laced around his neck was the sweetest restraint he’d ever known.
“Thank you,” Chenille said when they finally separated.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy this tonight, and breakfast in the morning.”
“You sure you can’t stay.”
The husky, whispery tone of her voice almost made Brayden want to risk the wrath of his coach and his teammates.
“I want to, but I’m not going to. When camp is over, though . . .”
Chenille kissed his throat. He shuddered. If he didn’t leave in the next thirty seconds, his resolve would evaporate.
“I gotta go, babe. I will see you tomorrow at camp. I’ve left instructions for you there.”
Chenille released him from her grasp and leaned back on her heels. “Okay. I won’t try to get you to betray the team.”
“Could you tell I’m slipping?”
“Yeah, but I like that you have this kind of discipline. That says a lot about you.”
Brayden laughed. “Yes. It says I’m stupid.”
Brayden leaned down and kissed Chenille’s cheek, even as his throat still sizzled from the kiss she’d left there.
One of the massage therapists led Chenille away, and Brayden bit his lip at the sight of Chenille walking away. An ebony goddess. That’s what she was. And he was leaving her here alone in his condo, massaged, relaxed, and oiled. Yeah, he was stupid.
Damn training camp.
Chapter 7
Idon’t know what I expected at this training camp. Maybe I thought there would only be a few people, because they’re not playing real games. I was so wrong. There are thousands of people here. And hundreds of those thousands are groupies.
These girls are everywhere, poured into leggings and tiny t-shirts, wearing dangerously high heels that I wouldn’t be able to walk in. It appears to be the uniform, but I didn’t get the memo. I’m wearing a blue-and-white shorts romper and flip-flops. At least it’s in the team colors.
The ticket Brayden left for me is in the VIP section. It is a groupie-free zone, with mostly children, wives, girlfriends, and players’ parents. I feel more comfortable here. I take a seat and watch what I guess are the wives of players hugging and greeting one another. I see lots of white women with caramel babies, and bright-skinned black and Latina women. I’m the only young woman who looks like me—a chocolate-covered queen.
I’m never self-conscious over my shade of brown. I love every bit of me. It just makes me sad that with all that chocolate on the field, I don’t see more of it represented in their families. Well, I shouldn’t say families. Many of their mamas are brown. It’s just that when they chose wives and mothers for the children, their mothers’ pretty brown skin wasn’t good enough.
It makes me wonder if I should even take Brayden seriously. Is he going to trade me in for a lighter version at some point? What if he brags about me, and his boys on the team mock him? Men want to impress their friends.
Then a woman walks in who looks like Brayden in a wig. She has to be his mom.
“Mrs. Carpenter!”
Yep. I knew it.
One of the white girls that were clustered with the other wives/girlfriends runs up to Brayden’s mom and gives her a hug.
“I keep telling you to call me Marilyn!” Brayden’s mom says as she gives the girl a warm hug.
“I know,” the girl says. “I just can’t do it, Marilyn. You’re too classy.”
Marilyn links arms with the girl as they walk down to the very front row of the friends-and-family section. Is
this an ex-girlfriend, current girlfriend, or potential girlfriend? She’s got to be one of the above, or Brayden’s mom wouldn’t be so chummy with her.
I want to get closer so that I can hear their conversation, but I’m afraid. What if Marilyn turns around and asks me who I am? What am I going to say to that? I’m the girl staying in your son’s condo. Yeah, I’m waiting to give him some booty after training camp.
Plus. And this is a big plus. Why the hell did he not tell me his mother was going to be here? I feel like there should’ve been preparation for this. He should’ve given me a heads up.
Maybe he isn’t ready to introduce me to his mother. I can’t be mad about that. Shoot. I’m not ready to meet his mother.
I stand when everyone runs to the railing at the front of the section of seats. Something important must be happening, because no one stays in their seats; they all run up to the front. I purposely snag a spot far from where Brayden’s mother stands.
“What’s happening?” I whisper to the little girl standing next to me.
“The players are coming out. They’re going to say hi and give autographs.”
Oh. So I want to go back to my seat. I can get an autograph from Brayden later. Let him focus on his fans. But, when I turn to my seat, there is no one else in the stands. Sitting down will just draw more attention to me, so I turn around and wave at the field like everyone else.
When Brayden comes out, I feel my heart rate speed up a bit. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him in his uniform, and he looks good in it. Muscular, toned legs, and a perfect, round, conditioned behind. Physically, Brayden is everything I’ve wanted in a man. I feel my mouth water at the thought of his kisses.
All the players run toward the rail and grab footballs and pieces of paper from the fans so that they can sign them. The little girl next to me waves a picture of Brayden.
Brayden smiles at the little girl, and then at me. He runs up and signs the little girl’s picture. Then he takes my hand and kisses it. I giggle, but the people standing around me make ooh and ah sounds.
I hope his mother didn’t see that.
I glance to my right to see if she did indeed see Brayden kiss my hand. She is glaring in my direction, so I’m going to take it that she did see it. And not only is she glaring . . . she’s making her way over to me.
Well, shoot. If he’s not trying to hide me, I’m not going to hide.
This lady gently shoves the little girl sideways and steps to me. Yes, steps to me. Like how a chick steps to another chick when she’s trying to steal her man.
“And you are?” she asks.
“I am Chenille. And you are?”
Her eyes widen with surprise. I’m not sure how she expected me to respond, but she surely doesn’t look pleased with my question.
“I’m Brayden Carpenter’s mother, Marilyn. Are you a friend of my son?”
I wonder how much I should divulge. Since I wasn’t briefed by Brayden, I have no idea what this woman might say or do.
“Pleased to meet you. We met in Jamaica at a concert. He’s a nice guy.”
It’s truthful. I did meet him at a concert in Jamaica. He is a nice guy.
“Did he invite you here?” she presses.
“He did give me a complimentary ticket. I appreciated it.”
“Ah, I see. Well, enjoy the practice.”
She gives me a smirk and sashays away. I don’t know what the smirk means, and I damn sure don’t know what the sashay means. Dammit. I should’ve said I was his date. I should’ve said I was staying at his fancy condo.
Or maybe I shouldn’t have.
Thank goodness this waiter walks by with a tray of wine. I need a whole bottle, but I settle for two glasses.
I can’t even enjoy the rest of the practice worrying about Brayden’s mom. I keep glancing over at her to see if she’s glaring, and she isn’t. She doesn’t give me another look for the rest of the practice. It’s almost like she’s ignoring me. I guess she’s decided that I don’t matter.
After it’s over, the players greet their friends, family, and loved ones out on the field. I don’t know if I should go out there. I hesitate as the guests file out of the stands and onto the field. If I escape now, maybe Mama Carpenter won’t see me leaving in her son’s Ferrari.
But when I get to the exit, Brayden is right there, beaming at me. He extends his hand to help me down the last few steps.
“Did you enjoy the practice? Were you impressed with my skills?”
I chuckle. “Well, I don’t know anything about football, but I was definitely impressed with you in that uniform.”
Brayden throws his head back and laughs. “I love your bluntness.”
“Really? Do I remind you of your mama? She strikes me as extra blunt.”
His laughter immediately stops.
“Did she say something to you?” he asks. “Chenille, I apologize if she said anything out of line.”
“Oh, she didn’t. I was just a little bit caught off guard. Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”
“I didn’t know until we came out and said hi to the people in the stands. She surprised me. I mean, she had tickets, but she told me she wasn’t coming.”
Whew. Okay, I don’t have to be mad at Brayden now. He can still get it.
“Here she comes,” I say.
“Don’t worry. I got this,” Brayden says.
Mama Marilyn walks up to me and Brayden with a little friend in tow. The friend is the white girl from the stands. They both smile like they’re up to something.
Brayden hugs his mother so tightly he lifts her off her feet. “Mama! You surprised me.”
“My plans changed, and I decided to pop in and see my baby. Is there a problem with that?”
“Never.”
Marilyn touches the white girl’s arm and pulls her close to Brayden. She ignores me like I’m not even here.
“Brayden, this is my friend, Ashley. I’ve been wanting the two of you to meet.”
Brayden smiles and extends his hand. Ashley looks confused that he wants to shake her hand like he’s meeting a business associate. I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Nice to meet you. Mama, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, although it sounds like you already made her acquaintance. This is Chenille. Chenille, this is my mama, Marilyn. I would’ve introduced you two beforehand if I’d known you were coming. You could’ve sat together.”
Marilyn narrows her eyes in my direction. “She didn’t mention she was your friend. Only that you’d met in Jamaica.”
“I thought it would be better for Brayden to facilitate our introduction. I didn’t want to go ahead of him.”
Marilyn gives a tiny headshake, as if she’s shrugging off this entire event. “I’m tired, son, and I know you’re staying here with the team. I’ll just let myself into the condo.”
I bite my lip again and force myself to let Brayden handle his mother.
“Mama, I can get you a hotel room at the Four Seasons if you want. Chenille is staying in the condo, and I’d like her to have her space.”
Oh, Marilyn is mad now. She blinks slowly and frowns. Her eyes sweep me from head to toe.
“Mama, I’m sorry . . .”
“No, you didn’t know I was coming, and you’re a grown man. You have a right to keep your women wherever you want to keep them.”
Oh, no, she didn’t.
“That was rude, Mama. I don’t have women. Nor do I keep them anywhere. Chenille is my girlfriend . . .”
Wait. I am?
“. . . And I won’t allow you to be rude to her.”
Marilyn sighs.
“My apologies, dear,” she says. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I suppose I was just being blunt about my bachelor son.”
“No offense taken.”
I’m lying through my teeth. I am good and offended. But I’m also intrigued by this girlfriend announcement.
“Do you need me to call for a driver, Mama?” Brayden as
ks.
“Of course, baby.”
Brayden laces the fingers on his left hand through the ones on my right, and pulls me away while he dials a number on his phone. When we’re a few feet away from Marilyn, Brayden starts to giggle. It’s a playful and youthful giggle, almost like I’m tickling him in his ribs.
“What is so funny?”
“Yours and my mama’s faces when I said you were my girlfriend.”
“I didn’t make a face.”
“Chenille. Yes, you did.”
His laughter makes me laugh. “What did my face look like?”
“You looked scared. Like you just saw a Walking Dead zombie or something.”
“I did not.”
“And my mama looked like she wanted to go gangsta on both of us.”
“That part you got right. Your mama wants to choke you out.”
“She’s still staring at us. I know her. Don’t look back.”
Brayden pulls me into an embrace. He looks down at me and smiles mischievously.
“You trying to get a felony on your mother’s record?”
Brayden shakes his head, then kisses me on my forehead. “Did I tell you I love your hair like this?”
“You loved my braids.”
“I love this, too.”
“Which one you like better?”
“Your lips. I like your lips better.”
His kiss turns my insides to water. I could just melt on through his arms and seep into the ground.
His hands travel down to the small of my back as he savors every part of my mouth. If I could think, I’d probably be horrified and embarrassed. But I can’t think. I can only feel. His kiss makes me feel like I’ve never been kissed before.
“I have to stop,” Brayden says.
“Why?”
He bites his lip and moans. “Damn training camp.”
Brayden releases the embrace, but pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers. His teammates, who have clearly been watching, cheer and whoop.
“They’re congratulating you,” I say.
“Nah. They’re glad I haven’t given in to temptation yet.”
“You want to, though.”
“My mama still looking?” Brayden asks.
I glance over to where Marilyn and Ashley were standing. They’re gone.
The Outside Child Page 5
