PLAYERS: The Complete Series (Springville Rockets (Sports Romance Books 1-3)

by Daphne Loveling

  Without thinking, I reach for her hand and squeeze it.

  Then, for some reason, I don’t let go.

  “Tonight we have an exclusive interview with the newest member of the Springville Rockets football team, and the woman who’s stolen his heart,” Mackenzie begins. And just like that, we’re off. Showing the whole world (or at least the whole city) how in love we are, and what a changed man I am.

  Anna and I had another practice session last night, to make sure we had enough details down about our relationship to make it believable. We invented a story about how I proposed to her (I took her boating on Lake Bryant and popped the question at sunset). We agreed that we haven’t set a date for the wedding yet, but that we want to wait until after I’ve had time to really integrate with the team and give my best for the fans. We even talked about how many kids we want (Anna wants two, I want enough for our own football team).

  Some of those questions get asked, and we sail through them with flying colors. It’s a convincing performance, even to me. Several times during the interview, I glance over at Anna and find myself almost wishing this was real. She’s still holding my hand, and at this point I don’t know whether it’s for show anymore or not. At one point, I crack a joke that makes both Mackenzie and Anna laugh, and Anna squeezes my hand and looks over at me with eyes that sparkle so much it fucking starts my heart pounding to know I’ve put the sparkle there.

  “I’d like to get into a question that’s rather personal,” Mackenzie finally says, her voice turning TV-interview serious. “It’s the elephant in the room. Viewers and fans will be wondering about Mason’s problems with alcohol, which caused him to lose his previous contract with the Rockets.” She pauses to give us both a look designed to be both sympathetic and probing. “Are those problems firmly in your past, Mason? And Anna, what’s it like to know that your fiancé has this side to him?”

  I was prepared for this question, of course. At least, I thought I was. But having someone say to my face, on camera, that I have problems with alcohol, makes my jaw tense and my hands tighten into fists. I know I have to get through this question. I know how I have to answer it. But everything inside me wants to protest, to set the record straight. Even though I know that’s exactly the wrong move.

  There’s a small movement inside my right hand, and I realize I’m probably crushing poor Anna’s fingers. Instantly, I ease up, and glance apologetically over at her. The look she gives me back is utterly calming. Reassuring. It’s almost like she’s communicating with me telepathically. We’ll get through this.

  I feel my body relaxing as Anna opens her mouth to speak.

  “I can’t speak for Mason, of course,” she says demurely. “All I can do is speak as the woman who’s in love with him.”

  In spite of myself, my heart starts to hammer at hearing her say she’s in love with me, even though it’s an act.

  “I met Mason shortly after he got out of rehab,” she continues. “I’ve seen him at his worst, and I’ve seen him at his best. And I’ll say this. I’ve never known anyone stronger. I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t believe in him, and trust him completely.” She smiles over at me tenderly.

  And two overwhelming thoughts flood my head at the exact same time.

  One, how much I want to take Anna Wilder to bed right now.

  And two, how much I would love to be the man she really felt that way about.

  “Mason?”

  “Yes?” I snap out of my daze to see Mackenzie looking expectantly at me.

  “Oh. Sorry.” I flash her my most disarming grin. “Anna’s my rock,” I say, just as we practiced. “The most important way to build a successful future is to have a strong foundation to build it on. This,” I continue, holding up our joined hands, “Is my foundation. The future I’m building with Anna, and with the Rockets, is my priority now.”

  Mackenzie nods, clearly satisfied with my answer. And she should be. It’s exactly the sort of shit her audience will eat up. I know that instinctively. And for all she and they know, I’m telling the one-hundred percent truth.

  And none of them know how shaken up I suddenly am by this whole thing. Not even Anna.

  After the interview is over, I put my arm conspicuously around my fiancée’s waist as we leave the station together. I feel the eyes of her colleagues on us, and we smile and nod at the ones who come up and congratulate us. When we leave through the station’s large glass doors, there’s an elevator waiting for us. I’m relieved to see there’s no one else in it. Anna seems to feel the same way.

  “Oof, thank God that’s over,” she sighs as the doors close behind us. “It went well, though, I think. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I agree. “Damn, you were good. Very convincing.”

  “You think so?” she giggles. Anna is obviously very pleased with herself. “When I was younger, I wanted to be an actress. I did some theater in high school and college. Maybe it paid off.”

  “I guess so.” I whistle low and shake my head. “You almost fooled me.”

  Anna looks up at me with a devilish grin, and then down to my arm, which is still encircling her. “We don’t have to pretend anymore,” she points out. “There’s no one here.”

  “Yeah, but the doors are gonna open up soon,” I say, thinking fast. “We’re gonna be on display again in about five seconds. Better just to stay in character.”

  The line works. Anna doesn’t move away, and pretty soon the doors open on to the first floor. We step outside and walk through the large foyer of the building, once again aware of the eyes that are on us. I can’t help but stand a little taller. I’m proud to have Anna by my side.

  “We make quite a couple, I think,” I murmur as we head toward the large revolving doors that will take us back outside. “Between this interview, and being seen around town, I think this is going to work like a charm. For both of us.”

  We’re at the revolving doors now, and I let Anna go so she can push through them first. She turns her head to look back at me just before she goes in.

  “It’s gonna break America’s heart when we break up,” she winks.

  As I watch her go through, a response forms in my head that I know I can’t say.

  So maybe we don’t break up.

  20

  Anna

  The next couple of weeks, Mason and I have a number of contractually-mandated public outings. After the TV interview with Mackenzie, the local and national news explodes with stories about us. Paparazzi jump seemingly out of the woodwork to snap photos of us: walking down the street holding hands, coming out of a grocery store, on the outdoor terrace of a trendy restaurant.

  All of it is orchestrated for maximum visibility. And all of it goes without a hitch.

  One thing I hadn’t bargained on was that the media would also start digging into my background for details of my early life. I feel like an idiot that I didn’t anticipate this. It’s exactly what I would have done. Someone even tracks down my dad’s address, and tries to corner him and question him on how he feels about the engagement. When he calls to tell me about it, my hands curl into frustrated fists, and I tell him how sorry I am.

  “Oh, it’s okay, Anna Banana,” he chuckles. “I just wanted to let you know. I guess it comes with the territory, eh?”

  “It’ll stop soon, Dad,” I promise him, my words echoing what Mason has said to me. “They’ll get bored with us, and move onto the next hot story.”

  “I sure hope so,” he replies dryly. “I think people in town are starting to think I’m wanted by the FBI, with all the activity outside my house.”

  Daddy and I chat for a few more minutes, and I again promise to invite him out soon to see a game and meet Mason. I hang up feeling both guilty and reassured.

  That evening, Mason and I are supposed to have another public date. Not long after I get home from work, I receive a text from him telling me to dress casually and be ready for him to pick me up around seven. When I text him back to ask where we’re g
oing, he just replies with a smiley face.

  Relieved that we’re not going anywhere I need to dress up for, I nonetheless take care doing my hair and my makeup. After all, these days, anytime I’m out in public my picture could end up in the paper or on a website. I haven’t gone out in sweats or yoga pants in weeks. I opt for a pair of flattering dark jeans, a black and cream horizontal striped top, and a tan suede moto jacket with tan ballerina slippers to match. Checking my image in the mirror, I’m satisfied that I won’t look dumpy or unkempt if some paparazzi jump out of a bush to snap our picture.

  Mason arrives right on time, and I say goodbye to Harriet and run out the door and down the stairs to meet him. When I get outside, he’s sauntering up the sidewalk. A familiar cocky grin spreads across his features as he gives me a long look up and down. In spite of myself, I flush with pleasure.

  “You look fucking hot,” he whispers as he grazes my ear with his lips.

  I know it’s just for show. Over the past days and weeks, I’ve gotten used to having him touch me like this. But it still sends an ache of need and pure lust through me, every time.

  “You look pretty good yourself,” I reply breathily. And of course, it’s true. He’s got on a pair of jeans that fit him like a glove, showing off his muscular thighs in a way that makes it hard not to stare. His light plaid long-sleeve shirt is untucked, and the sleeves are rolled up past the elbows, revealing the snarl of tattoos on his forearms. His wavy hair has gotten longer over the last few weeks, accentuating his strong jaw. All in all, he’s practically mouth-watering.

  “So.” I shiver a little as his lips leave my ear. “Where are we going?”

  “To celebrate,” he says firmly.

  “To celebrate what?”

  “Oh, nothing in particular. I guess to celebrate how well things are going.” He gives me a wink. “I thought you and I deserved a little break from being in the public eye.”

  We’re at Mason’s SUV. He opens the door for me to get in, then goes around to his side. I wait as he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.

  “Wait.” I don’t understand. “You mean, we’re not going someplace to be seen?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, this is just us, going someplace?”

  “Yep.”

  My stomach starts to flutter.

  “Where?”

  Mason waits a beat, then answers.

  “I’m taking you to where I proposed.”

  “You actually have a boat?” I ask him as we get out of his SUV at the marina. “I thought that was just something you made up for our engagement story.”

  “Didn’t I tell you that? Yeah. Just a small one,” he says, leading me down one of the docks. “It’s old, and nothing fancy. I bought it used not long after I got dropped from the team last year. I needed something to do with my time. Fixing it up probably stopped me from going out of my mind.”

  We’re at Lake Bryant, of course. It’s a beautiful early evening. In any other context, this would be an incredibly romantic idea.

  In any other context.

  But we’re not a couple. We’re only pretending to the entire world to be engaged and desperately in love.

  And secretly, I’m starting to feel things for Mason that I wish I wasn’t.

  For all intents and purposes, this evening is starting to feel a lot more like an actual date than I’m comfortable with.

  I’m not a hundred percent sure this is a good idea. But we’re here now, and I don’t know how to ask Mason to take me home.

  We’ve reached the end of the dock. Mason has stopped and is pointing toward the last boat. “There she is,” he says proudly.

  Apparently, Mason’s idea of small is slightly skewed. The boat he’s pointing at is a sailboat, not a power boat. And to me, it looks enormous. It’s definitely one of the larger boats in the marina, though not the biggest. Mason grabs hold of my hand as I’m still gaping, and leads me down to where there’s like a little side dock to one side of the boat.

  “The Boomerang,” I read, stopping to puzzle at the script traced a couple of feet above the water line. “Did you name her that?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s the significance?”

  He flashes me a rueful smirk. “Because I had to believe I was gonna be able to make a comeback.”

  I don’t know what to say in response. But thankfully, doesn’t wait for one. He drops my hand for a second and steps onto the boat, then motions for me to climb aboard.

  “Are going sailing?” I ask, a little intimidated. “I have no idea how to do any of this. I’ve barely ever even been on a boat before.”

  “I can single-hand her,” he replies with a shrug. “But nah, we’re not going sailing tonight. I had something else in mind.”

  Mason holds his hand out to help me steady myself as I step gingerly down onto the deck. It’s big enough that there’s plenty of room to stand and move around. “How big is this thing?” I ask him, impressed.

  “Thirty-six feet,” he says. “Just a baby boat, but definitely big enough for a lake this size.”

  “A baby boat?” I snort. “I think the biggest one I’ve ever been on is a pontoon. You could fit three of those on here.”

  “You grew up in Nebraska,” he points out. “That’s not surprising. I grew up in Florida. Power boats and sailboats are everywhere. My dad and grandpa taught me how to sail when I was a kid.”

  “The same grandpa who taught you about Cracker Jack boxes?”

  “The very same.” The grin Mason shoots me is boyish, making something tug at my heart. I wonder what he was like as a little kid. I bet he was just as cocky and confident back then as he is now.

  Mason goes to the middle of the boat and unlocks a small door. He reaches toward me, silently asking me to take his hand. I do, and he leads me down a small ladder into the cabin. It’s beautiful — like a miniature living room. Rich, dark wood is everywhere. Off to one side, there’s a small kitchen, with a dinette next to it. There’s a comfortable-looking lounge area, and a large bed that takes up the entire front section of the boat.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I breathe.

  Mason chuckles. “She wasn’t when I got her. The last owner didn’t know a damn thing about boats, and didn’t do the necessary upkeep. Of course, that’s why I got such a good deal. And I was looking for a project boat, anyway. I spent a hell of a lot of time out here. It kept me busy, that’s for sure.”

  “So, you said we aren’t going sailing.” I turn to him and frown. “Why did you bring me out here?”

  “Dinner. And the sunset.” He nods toward the stairs leading back up to the deck. “You won’t see a better one anywhere around here.”

  “Are you going to cook for me again?” I ask, looking toward the small galley kitchen.

  “Nope. We’re ordering pizza.” he grins. “There’s a place not far from here that delivers to the marina.”

  We argue for a few minutes about which toppings to get, and settle on pepperoni and mushroom. I go back up the ladder as he takes out his cell phone and places the order. I hear him order a six pack of beer and one of Coke. Then he comes up and joins me on the deck to watch the sunset.

  “Can you really sail this thing by yourself” I ask as we munch on our pizza.

  “Sure. If you have the right setup, it’s possible as long as you know what you’re doing.”

  “Will you take me out sailing sometime?”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to.” He winks at me. “Besides, it would be great on Instagram.”

  He’s right. Actually, I probably should be snapping a few pics of this evening to put them out on social media. But somehow, I don’t want to. Right now I’m having too good a time not having to perform.

  I finish my beer and eat pizza until I’m stuffed. Even though there’s no one else around us, Mason sticks with a soda since we’re out in the open and you never know who might be watching. As we eat and talk, the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky on the othe
r side of the lake. The water catches the pink and orange hues reflected in the sky. Mason is right: it’s breathtaking.

  We keep watching until the sun goes down, and then continue to sit there in the dark, looking out at the stars and the water, which is so calm it’s almost like glass. The boat sways gently; the soft clink of lines on the other masts combines with the lapping sound of the water against the boat.

  “It’s so tranquil here,” I murmur. The air is getting chilly, and I shiver. Wordlessly, Mason puts his arm around my shoulder and draws me to him. He’s warm, and I know I should pull away, but I don’t.

  “That feels good,” I whisper.

  He bends his head down toward mine, slowly, until his lips are grazing the sensitive skin behind my neck. In spite of myself, I suppress a moan.

  I should pull away. Now is really the time to pull away.

  “Mason,” I murmur, my voice ragged.

  “We both want each other, Anna,” he breathes into my ear. I shiver at the touch of his lips. “Why play games?”

  I’ve only had one beer, so I know it can’t be the alcohol, but suddenly my head is spinning. My heart starts to pound like it’s going to burst right out of my chest. I have no idea how things have shifted so quickly between us.

  “It’s not a good idea,” I manage to choke out.

  “Why not?” His lips trace the line along my jaw bone, then brush against mine, teasing, promising. “Come on. No one but us knows what really happens between us. And I’m not telling. What’s it gonna take to get you under me, Anna?”

  Oh, God… At his words, heat grows between my legs, and I’m instantly wet and desperate for him. For this. Because as his mouth comes down on mine, tugging my lower lip between his teeth, I suddenly know what’s going to happen. I know it’s not possible to stop it. Not anymore. I can’t wait. My body won’t let me.