End Zone: A Second Chance Romance (Bad Ballers Book 5)

by S. J. Bishop

  "I'm going home," Jackson said, stopping in the locker room.

  "Oh no, you're not. Not until we talk."

  "Fine. Talk."

  I cleared my throat. I had a speech prepared, but I hadn't wanted to deliver it like this. To a pissed-off Jackson in a dirty, smelly locker room. But if this was my one chance, then I'd have to take it.

  6

  Jackson

  I was pissed. It felt like I was being stalked. Emma had followed me into the locker room, trying to talk to me about my contract, when all I wanted to do was go home and have a beer. She was almost as tenacious and hot-headed as I was.

  "Fine. Talk," I said.

  She looked surprised for a moment then squared her shoulders back like she was getting ready to pitch a sale. I turned my head, hiding my smirk. Why did she have to be so damned cute? It made it hard to be mad at her.

  "You've been with the Tomcats for two years now," Emma said. I nodded.

  My uniform was hot, and I wanted to get out of it since I wasn't gonna get to practice. I pulled my jersey over my head and tossed my shoulder pads to the floor.

  "Yeah, I know," I snapped. My body cooled with just my compression shirt left on, but it was still too hot, especially with Emma standing so close yelling at me. I peeled the shirt off and stuffed it in my locker, leaving my chest bare.

  "In that time..." Emma said. Her eyes locked on to my chest. Her mouth opened a little. I couldn't help but be flattered. For once, I'd taken the girl's breath away.

  "You were saying?" I smirked, flexing my muscles for her. Now that I'd gotten her attention, I might as well have a little fun with it. I did some deep knee bends and a few stretches. Emma stood silently watching me. Her expression said it all. Just like I thought. I can have her anytime I want her.

  "I was saying?" she asked, looking confused. Her eyes never left my body.

  I turned my head, chuckling to myself. When I turned, I broke her line of sight with my chest, and she seemed to regain her composure.

  "Right," Emma said, clearing her throat. "But, um, in that time... in that time, you've had some serious incidents both on and off the field."

  "It's been two months since I punched that referee, and he deserved it. I paid the fine. It's over. I've stayed out of trouble. My contract with Florida won't be affected by it."

  "Yes, but that wasn't an isolated incident, Jackson. You've had numerous fights off the field."

  "What I do in my time is my business," I yelled, growing angry again. I was getting tired of this. It felt like we were going around in circles.

  "Not when it lands you in jail or in front of the Association. I can't believe you're taking all this so lightly. That ref incident wasn't the first time they've fined you, was it? There were two previous occasions before that, just this year, when you punched a fan—"

  "He deserved it! He ran onto the field and tried to tell me off for missing a pass."

  "–and when you and Bryant Osbourne brawled during half time."

  "Oh sure, of course you'd take his side."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Emma asked, her cheeks glowing pink. For once, it looked like I'd rattled her.

  "I saw you leave with him last night. I thought you didn't fuck football players. Ever. Or is that just something you tell your daddy when he's around?"

  "My father has nothing to do with this!" she said, forgetting herself for the moment and stepping up to me so that we were nose to nose.

  "Oh yeah? Your daddy's the one who gave you this job. If the Tomcats were serious about wanting to keep me, they'd have sent Keith to negotiate this, not some virgin scout wannabee."

  "I am not a virgin!" she cried.

  I chuckled. "I didn't mean it like that," I said, and she blushed. I could feel her breath on my bare skin as she panted. Anger flushed her cheeks, giving her a natural rosy glow that made my head dizzy.

  "What the hell is your point about all this anyway?" I asked.

  "My point," Emma said, lowering her voice. Her chest rose up and down in rapid succession, highlighting the perfect form her breasts took in a simple white t-shirt. I knew it wasn't my imagination. She wanted me.

  "My point," Emma said again, “is that through everything, the Tomcats have stood by you. Do you really want to leave?"

  "No," I confessed. "I don't." I was surprised to hear myself admit that to anyone. The whole time, I'd been playing it off as if I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of Dodge. But there was something about Emma that lured the truth from me. I couldn't help myself when I was around her.

  I kissed her.

  Emma stepped back, fresh anger manifesting on her face. She slapped me. Hard. She stood shocked for a second. I could feel her hand imprinted on my cheek. No woman had ever slapped me before.

  "You don't get to do that," she said, her teeth gritted tightly together. "The next time you try something like that, it won't just be your face I slap. It will be some other, much more vital body part that I kick. And you should bear in mind that when I kick you, I'll be doing it in four-inch heels. Which could work out very badly for you if I do it wrong." She turned and walked off, leaving me with an image of exactly what she might do with those four-inch heels, and wondering whether or not another kiss from her might just be worth it.

  7

  Emma

  I sat at my kitchen table in my little apartment, staring at the early detection pregnancy test. It had been just over a week since I'd slept with Bryant, and so much had happened between now and then that I simply hadn't realized I'd skipped my period until a few days after the date had come and gone.

  "It can't be," I murmured, shaking my head. "Oh no. No, no, no. It can't be."

  I rose from the chair and began to pace the brown linoleum that ran the length of the apartment, giving it a 1950s retro feel. My place was small, but it was all mine. I was glad I had moved out of my father's house at nineteen. Right now, I was especially grateful because I was on the verge of freaking out, and I didn't need an audience for this.

  "Shhhiiiit!" I screamed, lifting my head to the ceiling.

  "Oh goddammit!"

  Now what the fuck was I supposed to do? I'd only slept with one person in the last six months—Bryant Osbourne. He'd barely said one word to me since the night he'd fucked me in his Ferrari. I didn't care. He was a dipshit, and I didn't want to see him again anyway. But now... I didn't see how I could avoid it. Of all the times to ignore my rule about fucking football players, I'd chosen the night of the Tomcats party to break it and Bryant Osbourne to break it with.

  I didn't have time to think about this right now. My father was expecting me at the stadium in an hour. I'd been ditching his calls for the last week, feigning sickness, a dead cell phone, anything so that I wouldn't have to tell him I hadn't sealed the deal with Jackson yet. The Tomcats didn't want to lose him. If they did end up losing him, then my father had specifically told me that I'd better find someone even better to replace him with, fast, or I might as well get out of the business altogether and go work in a bakery somewhere. After all, women didn't belong in sports—they belonged in places like bakeries and hair salons. I wondered how my mother had put up with his male chauvinism for all the years they were married. If she were still alive, I would have probably asked her.

  "Okay," I nodded. "First things first. Let's get to the stadium."

  I hopped in my Corolla, and by the time I got to the stadium, I had calmed down, if only a little. So what if I was pregnant? That didn't mean I had to keep it. There was adoption or... that other thing. I didn't want to think about it, though. None of the options available to me seemed like a good idea. I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I must've sped the whole way here. I’d made it to the stadium gates a full twenty minutes before I was supposed to meet with my dad.

  There's no time like the present.

  I went in search of Bryant. He wasn't hard to find. He was in the locker room, about to head up to the field where the rest of the team was already waiting. Jac
kson ought to be around here, too. He'd made and canceled a half-dozen appointments with me in the last week. I'd have to track him down as well. I didn't understand why he was avoiding me. Sure, I'd slapped him, but he'd deserved it. I hadn't asked for that kiss.

  You didn't seem to mind it too much for a second there.

  I told the voice in my head to shut up. I admitted that Jackson's kiss had been delicious, but it had also been wildly inappropriate. I wasn't here to screw football players. I was here to work. The irony of my new situation was not lost on me. Despite my assertions that I wouldn't fuck football players, I was now carrying the unborn child of one.

  I looked down at my stomach, wondering for a moment if it was possible for anyone to tell, then told myself that I was being ridiculous. I wouldn't be showing for months yet. I heard a sound and looked up. Bryant was heading to the hall that led up to the field.

  "Bryant!" I called. He turned and looked at me, smiling politely, as if I were a friendly acquaintance instead of a former lover.

  "Hey, Emma," he said. It looked like he was going to turn around again and continue to the field, so I started talking fast.

  "I need to talk to you."

  He sighed, shaking his head. "I was afraid of this," he said.

  I blinked. "You were?" How the hell could he have suspected I was pregnant when I hadn't even suspected it myself until last night?

  "Sure. You're not the first woman who's come back looking for an encore."

  I laughed when I realized what he was saying. "No, Bryant, that's not what I want to talk to you about." He seemed not to hear me.

  "I told you that night, I don't fuck the same girl twice. It's sort of a rule I have. That way no one woman gets too attached, you see?"

  "I do see," I said. And I did. I saw what a fucking douche bag he was. "Listen, Bryant, I don't want to have sex with you again, okay? There's something else. Something I..." But I hesitated. I didn't know Bryant well, but I knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to be happy about this.

  "Emma, look, don't embarrass yourself, okay? You're hot, but it's not gonna happen. There's just too much pussy out there to waste in the same one day in and day out."

  "What the hell are you talking about, Bryant? I'm not interested in fucking you, okay? Would you just listen to me for a goddamn second?"

  "Emma?" my father's voice cut through the air. I turned and saw him standing behind me; I felt the blood drain from my face.

  "Dad, hi. I was just coming to see you."

  His eyes looked past me, and I turned my head to see Bryant's back as he ran down the tunnel to the field.

  "I got the feeling you've been trying to avoid me," my father said.

  "What? No, not at all." I was lying through my teeth.

  "Where the hell is Jackson Vega's contract?" His dark eyes forced themselves on me, eating away at me like that flesh-eating virus.

  "It's... in the works."

  "In the works?" my father snapped. "Emma, you've had a week to pull this together. What the hell are you waiting for?"

  "Nothing. I just... these things take time. That's all."

  "Well, make the time or else I'm taking over. This is too important. If you weren't my daughter... I gave you this chance because your mother would have wanted me to. For her sake, don't fuck it up."

  "I won't," I promised, fighting back the tears attempting to well in my eyes. If my father saw me cry now, I was done for. Tears were a sign of weakness. Even at my mother's funeral three years ago, I hadn't seen him shed one tear. Some people thought that made him cold, but I knew that deep down, he'd been hurting.

  When he was gone, I gave myself five minutes to feel sorry for myself. That was all the time I could afford. Then I went to find Jackson.

  8

  Jackson

  The ball spiraled to Zach, who caught it and threw it back to me. I kept one eye on Bryant, who was practicing a Hail Mary while Coach Granger watched him. I wasn't off Coach's shit list yet. He didn't give a shit if you smoke and drank and cursed, but miss one practice, and you had to work your way back into his good graces. And believe me, it was work.

  Bryant threw the ball in the air, and Zach whistled.

  "Did you see that?" Zach asked me. "That must've been sixty-five yards. That almost matches Kordell Stewart's record."

  "Yeah, it was alright, I guess," I said, trying not to look like I cared that Bryant had just made one of the most amazing passes I'd ever seen. It sucked having two quarterbacks on the team. I knew it was necessary, but would it have killed the Tomcats to get someone who couldn't throw? It killed me to admit it, but Bryant was good. Damned good. Not as good as me, but good.

  "Hey, Emma," Zach called, and I spun around. I hadn't talked to her since our argument in the locker room when she'd slapped me.

  "Hi, Zach," Emma said.

  Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that bobbed up and down as she walked. She wore tight-fitting jeans and a simple black blouse that clung to her in all the right places. I had to force myself to pry my eyes off her cleavage and meet her eyes. Once there, though, her eyes sucked me in. They were the kind of blue you only saw in far-off oceans. The kind of oceans people dreamed about but most never got to see in their lifetime.

  "Hey, Emma," I said.

  "Can I talk to you for a minute, Jackson?"

  There was something in her eyes today that I hadn't seen before. Sadness? Desperation? Whatever it was, it didn't suit her. Emma was more confident than this new look gave her credit for.

  "What's up?" I asked, deciding to take it easy on her just now. No fights. No passes.

  "I really need to talk to you about your contract. Can we meet sometime today?"

  "Sure," I said, smiling.

  "A time that you can actually make and keep?" she asked. I heard the irritation in her voice and liked the way it colored her cheeks. Was there something wrong with me that it turned me on whenever she got mad? I'd just told myself that I wouldn't make any passes at her right now, but that didn't mean I couldn’t try later.

  "How about dinner?" I asked. "Tonight at Dorian's."

  "Dorian's?" she asked, eyeing me skeptically. "That's a little fancy for a business dinner, don't you think?"

  I shrugged. "What can I say? I have expensive tastes."

  "No," she said. "I don't think that's a good idea. How about Donaldson's?"

  "Donaldson's is shit," I said, spinning the football around in my hands.

  Emma rolled her eyes.

  "Look," I told her. "You want me to meet you. Well, this is where I'm having dinner tonight. I'm going there with or without you, so you might as well meet me. I promise to be on my best behavior."

  She looked at me doubtfully, then her eyes lifted to the stands behind us. I turned around and saw Keith watching us from the owner's box.

  "Fine," Emma said. "Dorian's. Tonight at eight."

  "Great. I'll pick you up at—"

  "Oh, no, you won't. I'll meet you there."

  "Whatever you say. And quit looking at me like I'm a fucking wolf waiting to ravish you. I promise you, I only have business on my mind." The business of getting into Emma's pants, that is. She turned and walked away. My eyes followed her ass as she went. She had a great ass.

  "Well, looks like Jackson's going in for sloppy seconds." I turned and saw Bryant standing behind me, a grin on his face. "Not that I blame him. Emma looks hot when she's dressed. You'd never know her pussy is so dried out until her clothes are off."

  Without thinking, I threw the football I held directly at Bryant's face. Seconds later, Bryant was doubled over, blood gushing from his broken nose. "Now who's sloppy seconds?" I asked.

  9

  Emma

  I listened as Sara's phone rang three times. I'd been getting ready for my dinner with Jackson when I'd decided I had to talk to her. I sat on the edge of my bed in my underwear. I was about to give up on Sara when she answered.

  "Hi," she said, breathless.

  "
Hi. Bad time?"

  "No, I was just doing some spinning. I swear, I gained five pounds last week when I was sick. I thought people lost weight when they had the flu, but lucky me, I actually blow up like one of those poisonous fish."

  "A blow fish."

  "Whatever it is, it sucks. I don't know what I was thinking putting a spin bike in my house. I should've left it at the gym where it belongs. Anyway, it's kicking my ass right now. I could use a break. What's up?"

  "Nothing, just thought I'd say hi. I haven't seen you in a little while." I felt bad for lying, but I didn't want to rush into things. I wasn't ready to tell anyone I was pregnant yet, especially not until I'd made up my mind what I wanted to do.

  "How's the scouting job? Sign any big leaguers yet?"

  "No, not yet. I'm actually supposed to be renegotiating a contract with one of the Tomcats."

  "Oh yeah? Which one?"

  "Jackson Vega."

  Sara squealed. "Jackson Vega? The hottie whose picture you sent me?"

  "Yeah." I paused. "Do you really think he's that hot?"

  "Are you kidding? Haven't you seen the man?"

  I sighed. Sara had a one-track mind when it came to guys, but that wasn't why I was calling.

  "Hey, I was wondering something." I'd carefully worked out just how I would bring this up. It was the best idea I could come up with. I hoped it didn't backfire on me. "I have a friend who just found out she's pregnant."

  "Who?"

  "No one you know," I said, sidestepping her question. "I know her from work. The thing is, she's not sure she wants to keep it. It just got me thinking about that time you had the... you know."

  "Abortion?" Sara asked.

  "Yeah," I gulped. "Do you mind if I ask you about it?"

  "No. What do you want to know?"

  "Well, did it hurt?"