The Game Changer : Indianapolis Eagles Series Book 8

by Samantha Lind

  “Sounds good. I’m sure I can pull together a polo and some slacks by then.” He winks just as the server drops the bill off at the table. He drops his credit card in the tray before she can even leave the table’s edge.

  “I’ll be right back with this,” the server states before scurrying off to run his card.

  “Thank you for dinner. I had a great time tonight,” I tell him while we wait for his card back.

  “I’m the one that should be thanking you. I needed to get out of the house tonight, or else I’d have gone stir crazy.”

  “I’m sure you could have gone out with one or more of the guys,” I remind him.

  “Most of them aren’t here since it’s summertime. Only a handful hang around here during the off-season, and those that do still leave for longer chunks of time during the summer.”

  “I can see how they’d want to do that. Go back home or on vacation.”

  “Yep, with Julia and Beckett gone in Sweden, and Austin busy with the baby and Reese, my options are slim.”

  “Didn’t you play your early years with some of the guys that have retired and then stuck around with the team? Like, isn’t one of your coaches a former player?”

  “Yep, Scott played and is now one of the assistant coaches. I also played with Brian and Murph, who is now one of our commentators. They were some of my original teammates and some of the guys that are closest to my own age. I’m the old guy on the team…or I was,” he says, tripping up on his words.

  “And do they stick around here in the summer?”

  “Scott and his wife Becca usually head home to Alaska for a portion of the summer. I know he has to be back earlier than players do since he’s a coach. They also have school-aged kids, so they have to come back for them to start school. Brian and his wife Kinley, I think, split their summers between his family in Minnesota and hers in Alaska. Richard and his wife visit his family in Canada, but also spend a lot of time here since she’s a local.”

  “Sounds busy, and I can see how it would be hard to find someone to get together with.”

  “I guess you’re stuck with me,” he states and flashes me a panty-melting smirk. I kinda like this flirty easy-going side he’s showing me tonight. Especially with the heaviness of everything he’s got going on, I’m glad that he’s able to make light of the situation.

  “I don’t want to be the party pooper of the night, but I need to get home so I can get off to bed. I have another full day tomorrow, and my alarm goes off way too early.”

  “Of course. Sorry, I lost track of time,” he apologizes as he slides out of the booth.

  “Not your fault at all. I was just as engrossed in our conversation as you were.”

  He escorts me out to his truck, his hand resting on the curve of my lower back as we walk next to one another. I don’t know if he even realizes that he’s doing it, but I’m not going to stop him. When we reach his truck, he hits the unlock button on the key fob then opens my door for me—that chivalry shining through once again. “Thank you,” I tell him as he offers a hand to me while I step up and get settled into my seat. Once I’m in, he closes my door, rounding the front and practically jumping into his seat after opening the driver’s door.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow?” I ask once he pulls out on the street.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure. I need to start having some tough conversations with my agent and then the team management. Because I was injured during a game and have been on the long-term injured reserve list, it isn’t necessarily a straightforward retirement process. My contract still has a season left on it. The organization is still liable for that contract, and it still counts towards a portion of the salary cap. It’s mostly a bunch of legal crap, but I think what it will come down to is I won’t officially submit retirement paperwork until the end of next season when my contract runs out. When it ends, I become an unrestricted free agent, which means I can talk to any team and sign anywhere I want to, but obviously, I’d just retire at that point.”

  “It all sounds complicated,” I tell him.

  “It is. I’ve been in the league a long-ass time, and I still don’t know everything there is to know with the inner workings when it comes to contracts and such. I trust my agent to get me the best deal he can, and he’s yet to fail me . They pay me to play, I pay him to make sure I’ve got the best contract he can get me.”

  “Did you set out to play most of your career with one team? That can’t be quite common, is it?” I ask.

  “I didn’t, but I lucked out. I think every team ends up with a handful of players that all play well together. It also helps when some of them can negotiate in no-trade clauses into their contracts. That secures their place on the team. You can’t usually get that kind of a contract unless you’re a proven player. I considered it with my last contract but didn’t make it a deal-breaker. In the end, I got a little more money per season and an additional year tacked on.”

  “So, had you stuck to that no-trade stipulation, your contract would have ended just a few weeks ago?” I ask, fascinated by all this information.

  “Possibly, but teams will usually start negotiating with players whose contracts are nearing expiration months early if they want to lock them into another contract. So, say my current one ended this past season, they would have started talking to my agent in probably January. The earlier they can lock a player in, the less likely it is that they’d be talking to other organizations, well, that is if they’re unrestricted free agents. If they aren’t, then they have to wait until after July first when all contracts expire, and they can start talking to one another.”

  “Wow. Sounds intricate.”

  “It can be, that’s for sure,” he agrees with me as he pulls into my building’s parking lot.

  “Thank you again for tonight. I had a great time,” I tell him as he parks and shuts his truck off.

  “Let me walk you up, make sure you get in safe,” he offers as he slides out of his side. I open my door only to find him already standing next to it. He holds out a hand for me to grab while I step down from the tall truck.

  He falls in step next to me just like we did when leaving the restaurant. His hand rests on my lower back, sending tingles up and down my spine. He keeps his hand in place until we’re standing outside my door, and I miss the feeling of it once he pulls it away.

  “Thanks for being my sounding board, it felt good to have someone to talk with tonight about everything,” he says as he reaches out and tucks a few stray hairs behind my ear. His fingertips trail down my neck before he wraps them around it and pulls me into his personal space. His movements are calculated and slow, but also thorough. I can sense the second of hesitation in his actions before he pushes them away. His lips are a hair’s breadth away from my own. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to kiss you,” he practically growls, giving me a few heartbeats worth of time to push him away before his lips are on mine. The pillowy softness of his lips almost surprise me as he takes command of the kiss. I open for him almost immediately, stepping into his embrace as I bring my own hands up, raking my fingers through his hair. His tongue duels with mine, and he shifts slightly, tilting my head just so to give him better access to deepen the kiss and make it even hotter than it already is.

  All sense of time evaporates. I have no idea if we’ve been lip-locked for ten seconds or ten hours by the time we break apart, both sucking in air like we’ve been without for longer than acceptable. Johnathan rests his forehead against mine as we both work on catching our breath. I can taste the hint of hops from the one beer he drank with dinner. He stands up taller, his forehead breaking the connection we’d just had, but then his lips are pressed against the same exact skin, and I melt all over again. What is it about forehead kisses from a guy you’ve been crushing on to melt you into a puddle of hormones? “I should go. Call me tomorrow?” he asks as he attempts to take a step back. Our limbs are still a little tangled, and I find myself not wanting to let him go.
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  “Yeah,” I finally agree, knowing that inviting him in isn’t the right thing to do tonight. “I’ll call you when I’m off work. I should be home around six or so,” I tell him as I start to ramble.

  “I look forward to it. Maybe we can get dinner again together; only this time, you can come to my place, and I’ll cook for you,” he says, his lips brushing against my forehead once again.

  “You cook?” I ask, rearing back to look him dead in the eyes.

  “I do. I just don’t usually bust out all the fancy cooking skills when it’s just me I’m cooking for, but I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.”

  “All right, it’s a date. I’m excited to see what you can whip up.”

  “I’ll gladly show you tomorrow night. Any allergies I should be aware of?” he asks.

  “Nope. I’m good with almost anything. I will tell you that I won’t touch mushrooms or liver, so please don’t tell me your specialty includes either of those things.”

  “You’re in luck, not a mushroom or liver on site. I don’t care for either of those, so you won’t find me cooking them.”

  “Good to know,” I tell him as he pulls me against his chest again, this time his arms are wrapped around my midsection. I mimic his stance and wrap my arms around his torso. He towers over me when we’re standing like this, the top of my head hits him right at his collar bone. I can feel the ridges of his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt, and if I’m not mistaken, I can also feel his hard shaft pushing against my belly. Feeling what I do to him has my own arousal pulsing between my thighs. What I wouldn’t give to jump him tonight. It’s been awhile—who am I kidding, it’s been more than a year since I was last with someone, my BOB has been keeping me a lot of company the past year.

  “I should go, you need to get off to bed, and if I walk through your door, I don’t think either of us would be getting any sleep anytime soon.”

  “Right,” I agree with him, even if him coming in and the two of us not getting any sleep anytime soon does sound like a much better idea than him leaving right now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know if anything pops up and it doesn’t work for you once your day is going.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure I’m ready and waiting for you,” he tells me before his lips land on my lips in a chaste kiss. He steps back, lightly squeezes my sides before dropping his hands. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  I stand there and watch him walk down the hall of my condo building. He turns around once on the elevator. I watch as the door closes, waving just before it slides closed and whisks him down to the ground floor. The sound of someone’s door opening down the hall snaps me from my daze, I slip my key in the lock, turning it quickly before pushing into my entryway. I have no idea how everything transpired the way that it did tonight, but I can’t say that I’d change it in any way.

  I practically float from room to room as I make my way around. I drop my purse and shoes in the entryway after locking up. I stop in the bathroom then go change into some sleep shorts and a tank top. I do want to get to bed early tonight. I’m exhausted and wasn’t lying to Johnathan when I told him I have a full schedule tomorrow. Once I’m changed, I make my way out to the kitchen.

  I grab a glass of ice water, stop and refresh the water in my cat, Walter’s, water dish and top off the automatic feeder I have for him. I mosey into the living room, where I find him curled up on the couch, and I sit down next to him, the movement of the cushion waking him up. He looks around to see who or what interrupted his peaceful slumber. Once he spots me, he stretches, then comes over and starts to head-butt my hand until I give him some loving and scratch his head. He starts purring almost immediately, and I snuggle him closer. Walter is getting up there in age. I rescued him when I first bought my condo about three years ago. He makes himself comfortable on my lap while I flip through the channels looking for something interesting to watch for a little bit. I stop on some reruns of The Big Bang Theory while I wait for the evening news to start.

  My eyes are heavy before the news is even half over, but I’ve heard enough. I set Walter down before I get up and make my way to my bedroom. He follows me, jumping up on the bed and finding his favorite sleeping spot in the entire condo—right smack dab in the middle of my pillow.

  “I hope you know how lucky you are,” I tell my cat as I push him over to the other pillow on my bed. This is a nightly occurrence. If I get up in the middle of the night to pee, he’ll steal it then, as well. Pretty much anytime I get out of bed, he likes to take claim on my pillow.

  I snuggle into the bed, thoughts of that hot as hell kiss running through my mind. My thoughts wander to Johnathan and what he’s doing right now. Is he thinking about the kiss? Is he wishing I was warming his bed as much as I wish he was warming mine?

  I reach over, grabbing my phone, and ponder if I should send him a text. I don’t want to come across as needy or clingy, so I put my phone down, knowing that I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

  Chapter Five

  Johnathan

  I lay in bed, the sun already shining through the cracks in the blinds. I’m still exhausted as if I didn’t sleep at all after I tossed and turned most of the night. Between the pent-up sexual tension that was crackling between Jill and me last night, and that hot as hell kiss that ended our night before I walked away and then not taking care of things after I got home last night. Add in the stress from my appointment yesterday, it’s no wonder I slept like shit. I need to get my ass moving today and get some phone calls out of the way.

  I give myself five more minutes to relax in bed before I force myself to get up and moving for the day. I head into the bathroom to start my day with a shower. I reach in and turn the water on, taking a leak while the shower warms up. I slide in under the hot water and allow the pressure to work its way into my muscles. I can feel the stress melting away as the water beats against my back. My cock hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s not time to be out, and thoughts of that kiss from last night flood back into my mind. All I can think of is the feel of Jill’s lips against my own. The slide of her tongue tangling with mine as I devoured her.

  Had we stepped over the threshold of her place, I can only imagine how quickly we’d have shed our clothes. I knew I had to slow things down. She deserves better than a quick fuck against a wall or door, especially for our first time together. My cock is hard, pulsing with need. I slide a hand down my abs, gripping it at the base before sliding my hand up the shaft, circling my palm around the tip. I imagine what it would be like to have Jill’s hand wrapped around it instead of my own, or her mouth. Fuck. Just the image of that has me ready to blow my load all over the shower wall. I stroke my shaft a dozen or so times, thinking of Jill the entire time. Of all the filthy things I’d like to do to her, preferably while naked the whole time. I can’t hold back any longer, finally crashing over the edge as my release spurts on the wall. I lean into the one hand, resting on the wall, holding myself up. With my lack of sleep, I wore myself out.

  It takes me a minute or so to recover from my orgasm, but once I do, I go through the motions of my regular shower routine. I get out, toweling off and dressing all in the span of maybe five minutes. I head for the kitchen, pulling out a pan to make myself some breakfast. I whip up some sausage, eggs, and toast. Nothing fancy, but it’s simple and gets the job done. I need to take an inventory and make sure I have everything on hand for dinner tonight and make a run to the store before Jill is off work and here this evening.

  With breakfast out of the way, I grab my cell and shoot off a text to one of my prior teammates, Richard Murphy. He retired a few years ago, but more importantly, his wife, Madison, used to be an agent. I know I need to talk to my own agent, but I want to get both of their perspectives on what I should do moving forward, and if there’s anything that I should be looking for with ending my career mid-contract.

  John: Hey, man, are you free today? Can I stop by and talk to you and Madison about something?

&nbs
p; I toss my phone on the counter and start cleaning up my mess from breakfast. Richard isn’t the quickest at replying to texts sometimes these days, not with two babies at home now.

  I finish up the dishes, then start rummaging through the fridge and cabinets trying to decide what I should make tonight. I settled on Chicken Cordon Bleu. I set the chicken out to defrost and make sure I have everything else to make the dish. I make a quick list, knowing that I need to pick up some wine and a dessert of some kind to round out the meal.

  Just as I’m finishing up my list, my phone vibrates on the counter with a reply from Murph.

  Murph: We’re just hanging out here at the house, so stop over whenever. The babies should be going down for a nap in the next half hour or so.

  John: Sounds good, need anything? I can head that way now.

  Murph: Can’t think of anything, but thanks for the offer.

  I grab my list for the store, my cell, and keys from the counter and head for my truck. It only takes me maybe ten minutes to make it over to Richard and Madison’s house. I park in the driveway and make my way up to the door. Remembering that he said the babies might be down for a nap, I rap my knuckles on the door rather than risk ringing the doorbell. I hear Max bark and hope that it didn’t wake anyone up.

  “Sorry,” I say in lieu of a greeting when Richard opens the door a moment later, the dog on his heels. “Hope I didn’t wake anyone,” I tell him just as I hear a cry from the living room.

  “Nope, Madison just got Sophia changed and ready for a nap, and now she’s nursing Courtney. Come on in and make yourself at home. I’ve got to go wrap Sophia up and get her put down in her crib.”

  “Hey, JC,” Madison greets as I take a seat on one of the couches. She’s on a recliner facing me, propped up with a baby and some weird shaped pillow thing. “How are things?” she asks as I watch Richard wrap his other daughter up almost like a burrito in a weird blanket wrap contraption with Velcro on it.