Blur: A Sports Romance

by Piper Page

  BLUR

  By Piper Page

  © 2016 Piper Page

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination. The Mavericks are a fictional professional football team.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One Mallory

  Chapter Two Adrian

  Chapter Three Mallory

  Chapter Four Adrian

  Chapter Five Mallory

  Chapter Six Adrian

  Chapter Seven Mallory

  Chapter Eight Adrian

  Chapter Nine Mallory

  Chapter Ten Adrian

  Chapter Eleven Mallory

  Chapter Twelve Adrian

  Chapter Thirteen Mallory

  Chapter Fourteen Adrian

  Chapter Fifteen Mallory

  Chapter Sixteen Adrian

  Chapter Seventeen Mallory

  Chapter Eighteen Adrian

  Chapter Nineteen Mallory

  Chapter Twenty Adrian

  Chapter Twenty One Mallory

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Mallory

  “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why the train always takes so long. I promise my car will be out of the shop any day now.” The familiar, silver plated bells above the shop door of Pushing Daisies Floral Shop jingled over my head, mocking me as they announced my late arrival. “Les, I am so so sorry.” I squeezed her arm as I rushed past her, giving her a regretful gaze.

  My best friend, Leslie Martino, shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Mallory, you’re like three minutes late, if that. Why do you always make being late such big drama?”

  I scooted by her and grabbed my pink, pinstriped apron from beneath the counter and swathed it around my waist, waving my hands dramatically in front of me. “You know why,” I hissed as I pressed by her and ducked my head back into the work room to let my boss know I had arrived.

  “Mallory, koukla, so you decide to join me today, hmm?”

  My mouth dropped open. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Mr. Alika walked up and cupped my face in his hands. His balding little Greek head was only two inches above my petite five foot four height. He pinched my cheeks in his fingertips that always smelled of lilies and ivy. “You’re my favorite. Why you always so worried?”

  I smiled through my pinched cheeks and puckered lips. “Mr. Alika…”

  “Nicholas or Nick, it no matter,” he corrected, throwing his hands into the air dismissively and turning back to the arrangement he was currently working on.

  I rubbed my bruised cheeks. “Nick, I like to be on time. You pay me to be on time. It’s good for business.” I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of his kindness to keep me employed here.

  He turned and shook a long-stemmed rose at me. “You, I never worry about. Those other ones,” he pointed the white rose out toward the front of the shop and lifted his hands in resignation, and looked to the ceiling “those ones I worry.”

  My smile was genuine. I knew Mr. Alika liked me, even without my family’s history, I felt that he liked me for me and my professionalism. “Thank you Nick, I’ll get to work on the new deliveries right away.”

  “Mmmhmm, get Leslie to help you.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Leslie was leaning on the customer counter, jawing with Robbie, the Pushing Daisies delivery boy. “I’m telling you, he didn’t care. I could have sucked the gum right out of his mouth.”

  I shook my head and tried to ignore the ongoing conversation. There were several phone orders to fill, and customers would start filing in to the shop within the hour.

  “What about you, Mallory?” Robbie had hopped up on the counter. His one lengthy, stick-thin leg dangled on the side while he had drawn up his opposite leg and was proceeding to unlace his dingy red sketchers.

  “What about me what? Robbie get your broke ass kicks off my counter.” I swatted at his foot with a roll of bouquet tissue.

  “Hey!” He dodged the cardboard, faux weapon and jumped back to the safety of the other side of the register. “Did you go out last night?”

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Right.”

  Leslie sidled up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder, creating a mesh of my mousey brown hair and her lush black locks. “Robbie, didn’t you know our Mallory is beyond dating?” she teased.

  I flicked her in the nose and she yelped, jumping away and rubbing at the pert tip.

  “I date!” My voice sounded defensive.

  “Oh yeah, when’s the last time you were out with a guy?” Leslie taunted as she replaced Robbie on the counter and snapped her ever-present mint gum.

  I pursed my lips and turned away with a shrug of my shoulders, repeating simply, “I date.”

  Both Robbie and Leslie groaned in unison, looked at one another, and laughed.

  I puffed out a frustrated lungful of air and began to pull out ribbon and floral wire to start on some corsages.

  Leslie joined me at the front work station. Her fingers were as skilled as mine, and we made good time on our daily preparations. “Mal, would it be so terrible to go out once in a while? No one is asking you to get married, but girl, you could use a little ‘cuddle’ time, if you know what I mean.” Her elbow gently jabbed into my ribs.

  I sighed. “Has your brain been totally fried? You do remember how my last two relationships ended, right?”

  Leslie swayed from side to side, her bright eyes focusing on the bow she was making in her fingers. “I have no idea what you are referring to.”

  I knew she was playing dumb. I also knew it wasn’t her fault that the last two guys I had dated were only trying to get to her through me. I couldn’t really blame them. Leslie was an Italian goddess. I was just the short, Italian floral arranger with a little too much padding up top and in the back. Although I was twenty-one, I always thought the freckles that dotted my upturned nose gave me the appearance of a teenaged school girl. Leslie told me all the time that I was being unfair to myself, that I was beautiful but had low self-esteem. I would argue and tell her I loved all the parts of my body, I just didn’t think they were arranged quite right. When I actually took the time to add makeup, do more than twist my hair into a messy bun and adorn my curves in more than jeans and a shop tee shirt, I could pass for a pretty girl. Her idea of “cuddling” didn’t even factor in at this point in my life, or at any point before.

  “So what do you think?” Leslie nudged me in the shoulder, pulling me out of my self-sabotaging, internal thoughts.

  “Think about what?”

  She gave a sigh of complete exasperation. “Do you ever listen to me? What do you think about Robbie? Should I ask him out?”

  “Ouch, damn it.” I yelped, taken aback by her suggestion. I sucked at the puncture wound I had just given myself on the pad of my thumb. “Are you kidding?” I asked over the throbbing finger that was shoved in my mouth. I was shocked that she was even toying with the idea.

  “What?” she shrugged. “He’s funny and cute in a nerdy, boyish kinda way.”

  “Leslie, I don’t think it’s a good idea. You shouldn’t mix work with your personal life.”

  She made a face and stared at me. “Seriously, Mal?”

  I braced myself for her retort.

  Her
words came in a whispered hiss, “This coming from a girl whose father was one of the bigger players in the game? You can’t stand there and lecture me on mixing work and personal, when your entire life has been a mix of work and personal. Remember, I know all about your ‘personal.’”

  I frowned. It hurt when she turned on me like this. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Fine, suit yourself.”

  Ten minutes later, the whole conversation had been forgotten, and we were laughing and joking once again. That’s how it was with Leslie and me. Sometime we were more like bickering sisters than best friends. I supposed that was how life worked.

  Robbie picked up the boxes we had prepared and was about to walk to the waiting delivery truck when the tiny metal bells jingled out their magical chimes to let us know a customer was in the shop. I walked out from the back, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. Leslie and I had been taking our usual morning coffee break. Robbie was standing stock-still, his jaw slack and his mouth hanging open. His eyes were wide, and I wondered if he was having some sort of episode. Hopefully he wouldn’t start drooling.

  “Good morning, welcome to Pushing Daisies. I’m Mallory, just let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

  The young man smiled. I felt his eyes travel from head to toe and back up again. My brows furrowed, and I gave him an awkward grin. I wasn’t sure what to think. No one had so blatantly given me the “once-over” like that before. Oh god, I thought, did I have powdered sugar in my cleavage? I turned on my heels with a quickness that shocked Robbie out of his standing stupor and promptly swiped at my boobs, ridding my shirt of any sweet doughnut crumbs.

  “I need a small bouquet—something not exactly girly, but still nice.” His voice reminded me of sweet maple syrup on a winter morning, melting over hotcakes by a warm fire in the Alps. It was amazing. I felt my mouth literally water.

  “What type of flowers do you like? Is this for a girlfriend?” I caught my lip just after the words had slipped out. Why had I asked that question? I never asked about significant others. I could feel my cheeks flush with color, and the heat of embarrassment not only filled my face but traveled down my neck to my chest, too. I “subtly” waved my hand in front of my face to cool my skin.

  “No girlfriend, I’d have dumped her the moment I laid eyes on you,” he laughed.

  And there was the cockiness to wipe away all that syrup. Strangely enough, the heat in my features didn’t dissolve with it. My brain and my emotions were playing war, and my brain was losing.

  “What do you like?” he asked. I detected and edge of humor in his tone. Was he getting a kick out of teasing me?

  My fingers clenched into small fists, and I willed them to relax as I opened the back cooler and got out a variety of flowers and greenery, hauling the buckets up to the counter for him to look at. “Personally, I love lilies.”

  He took the orange and brown Tiger lily I had pulled free and admired it. “They ought to call them Mallories, they’re so beautiful.”

  I cleared my throat and extracted a Cali lily. “These aren’t quite as feminine as some flowers, but lilies, in general, are pretty sturdy. Is this something you’d be interested in?”

  He laid the Tiger lily on the counter and leaned on his elbows, bringing his face closer to my level. He definitely had a good twelve inches on my petite height. His green eyes sparkled and seemed to dance in the light of the flower shop, and when he spoke again, I swear I smelled maple. “Definitely interested,” he whispered toward me and wiped a finger across my bottom lip, “sugar.” He licked the powdered donut residue from his fingertip.

  I swallowed hard, tried not to die on the spot, and made myself start matching greenery to the flowers. “We can certainly meet your needs, sir.”

  “It’s Adrian, but I like how you say ’sir.’” He stood back up to his full height and offered me his hand.

  How odd, was the only thing I could think, but then I watched my hand reach forward and betray me. My fingers were engulfed in his strong grip. He didn’t shake my hand; he held it firm yet gentle. It felt safe. I think I may have actually sighed.

  “I like where this is going.” he said.

  “Me too,” I whispered. “Wait, what?”

  His laughter filled the shop and doused me with tingling sensations that went right to my core. What the hell was happening here?

  “Well hello there!” Leslie had bounced up beside me like a gorgeous goddess and was now extending her lengthy, slim, lovely fingers towards Adrian. “I’m Leslie. I hope Mallory here is giving you all the attention you deserve.”

  My mouth fell open. I snapped it shut and turned away, getting back to the arrangement.

  “She’s given me enough to last a lifetime,” he answered, and his voice was laced with truth and sincerity.

  I smiled down at the counter, keeping my back to him. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked, and if I was being honest, it felt wonderful. “Would you like to wait for these?” I called out over my shoulder.

  “I’m enjoying the view. Think I’d give my right arm to stay here and watch you work, Mallory.” My name on his tongue was like a diamond coming out of his mouth. “I have to get going, but I’ll have them picked up.”

  I heard the cash register ring up the sale. My lower lip pouted out. I had wanted to look at him one more time before he left, but Leslie was right on top of the sale. I was certain she was gunning to be right on top of Adrian, too. All of a sudden, my hackles were up. I was tired of playing second fiddle. I turned around and waltzed up to the counter. “Adrian, if you’d like, I can deliver these for you personally.” I fluttered my lashes and let my voice dip down to a husky rasp.

  Adrian smirked, thoroughly amused with my obvious antics. Leslie stood speechless beside the register. Robbie still hadn’t left to make his morning run.

  My eyes glazed over when his hand reached to lift my chin. Our eyes locked. “Gorgeous girls like you were not made to run errands. I’ll have someone pick them up. Stay beautiful, Mallory.”

  I stood there, frozen, even after the ringing of the bells above the door faded away.

  “Holy hell,” uttered Robbie for the first time in the last fifteen minutes. “Do you…oh my god… that was,” he was pointing out the door behind him, his jaw slack.

  Leslie clapped her hands together and steepled her fingers under her chin. “I know, I know! Can you believe it?”

  I looked at them like they had both lost their floral-scented brains. “What? Who was it?”

  Leslie gave me an astounded look. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Do you even own a television?” Robbie had moved up to stand next to Leslie, whose mouth was still gaping.

  “Oh, is he a television actor? What was he on Dancing with the Stars or something?” I looked between them both, dead serious.

  “Honey, that was Adrian Maxwell.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  Leslie continued, “Adrian Maxwell, as in, the star quarterback and big hunk of heart throb man candy for the New York Mavericks.”

  Again, I stood there, staring. Sports had never been my thing.

  Robbie took a stab at it. “He plays football, professionally. You can watch him like three times a week. He’s going to be big.” His hands went in the air to emphasize his point of how big.

  “Alright then, good for him.”

  Both Robbie and Leslie threw their hands in the air. “She’s a lost cause,” said Robbie.

  “Best-looking man on earth comes in and flirts with you, and you’re clueless,” added Leslie.

  “He was not flirting with me!” My face filled with color, but I couldn’t hide my smile. I walked away to finish Adrian’s order. My blood was coursing through my body at warp speed. I didn’t care who he played for, he could have been a refuse truck driver and I would have been one hundred percent infatuated with him. One thing was certain, though: I would definitely be watching my television more from here on out.

  Chapter Two

&
nbsp; Adrian

  The football snapped into the air, and I felt the natural springs of my feet jet me upwards of their own volition, as if it were a natural reflex, ingrained in my being. My body was a well-oiled machine. I worked hard to keep it that way on a daily basis. Perfectly quaffed hair, toned and tight muscles, and a rock-solid six pack of abs, that’s what it took to look good on the cameras and for the ladies. Pair that with my agility and speed, and I could proudly say I was one of the most adored, sought after, physically fit and talented men out on this field. I wasn’t being cocky, it was a true fact. I earned my body through daily gym routines, my skill from the talent I was born with and had fine-tuned as I grew up. All of that had brought me here as one of the best.

  The ball seated itself in the crook of my elbow, and I let my feet carry me at warp speed down the yardage between the massive wall of football players, my eyes set on the prize of the end zone. I glanced behind me long enough to see my left tackle excelling at his job to protect me. One of the opposing team members made a dash low at my ankles. I side-stepped his reaching hands, twirled in a graceful circle, then leapt away from him, laughing. When I reached the end zone I spiked the ball into the turf and threw my six foot five frame into a series of back-flips.

  “Goddamn it, Maxwell!” yelled the coach, “Shit, you want to get us kicked off the damn field? Enough with the showboating bullshit. Next time it’s a fine,” he barked. “Alright, bring it in, men.”

  I knew it was only practice, so I indulged my ego a little. It wasn’t a crime at this point in the game. Of course, I wouldn’t put us through the penalties when it was for real, especially now that we were so close to making the Super Bowl, but today, I had energy surging through me like a freight train I couldn’t contain. And I knew why. It was that girl, Mallory, from that flower shop. From the moment she turned around and I saw her eyes and she opened her rosebud lips, I was a lost puppy looking for someone to pet me. The thought of her hands on my body sent chills down my spine. She was amazing, natural, and had a genuine purity laced with a wit that was going to drive me mad with need. I felt it in my bones—I had to have her. Mallory was my mission. I knew if I had her by my side and in my bed, I would be complete.