Chapter Eight
As with any season, when you find it going exactly as planned, you can just about guarantee a trick play is going to come out of nowhere and turn everything on its blame ear. We weren’t immune and everything got thrown off. Wiley was beyond stressed with the media breathing down his neck over Jones getting out of control and bringing a few other players down with him. So with two game losses and the hopes of the playoffs dwindling, I felt it was time for a timeout.
My birthday tag from last week draws my attention as I wait for Wiley to arrive in my office. It’s a beautiful sign created by Zane himself with the guidance of my beloved crew. I trace the swirling three and then the zero. I had no idea I had it pinned to my back all day until Wiley of all people pointed it out. “Thirty Year” at the top of the sign with “Old Maid” underneath it in metallic black and gold. Even lovelier than that was when Wiley pointed out, in front of most of my crew, that I am actually older than him. I already knew that, but everybody else didn’t need to know, too.
I forgave him for that when he whisked me away to Renata’s later that evening for a birthday supper—just the two of us. After concluding the meal with delicious fried ice cream, he presented me with a custom license plate. It has a royal-blue background with ‘Delilah’ painted in gold cursive script. It sure is fancy for my old girl, but even in the sea of rust it suits her. There’s no way not to swoon over a man that thoughtful.
“Hey.”
I look up and find the young devil standing at my door. “Hey. Come on in.” I motion for him to have a seat. “How’d practice go?”
Plopping down in the chair, Wiley scrubs his hands down his tired face. “It went.” There’s no confidence in his voice, so I know what I’m about to enforce is in his best interest.
“I’ve got you scheduled to take off Monday through Wednesday next week.”
“Cancel it. I’ve got too much mess going on here.”
“No can do. It’s set. You need a break. Take it.”
Leaning over his knees, he says, “No.” His expression is hard and challenging.
I challenge right back. “You will. Or I’ll officially suspend you those days.”
“You can’t be serious?” His eyes go wide in disbelief.
“I am, so please don’t test me.” He looks like he’s about to try testing, but I raise my hand to stop him. “You’re burnt out, Wiley. Take the three days and get some rest.”
Shaking his head, he repeats, “No.”
Well, hotshot didn’t want to do this the easy way—big surprise. Yes, insert a whole lot of sarcasm and eye-rolling here. This man and I should get an A+ in the butting-heads category. So an hour later, I have the suspension paper drafted and am presenting it to him to sign.
“You’ve forced my hand, you stubborn man.”
Wiley signs with so much force that the paper actually tears in places. Boy is he mad. I’ve never seen anger paint his handsome face red before until now.
Minutes later, the notary hands me and Mr. Alpha Male a copy of the paper before she scurries away from the thick tension in my office. Wiley won’t look at me, so I ease around the desk and make myself comfortable in his lap.
“Don’t be mad at me,” I whisper, pulling his face in my direction until he finally blesses me a glimpse of his green eyes.
“I am.” Something flickers through those gorgeous peeps. “I’ll let you back on the field any time you want. Even during practices.”
“Too late. You’ve already signed. Now I want you to pack and be ready to pull out by six Monday morning.”
“What are you talking about now, woman?” A growl releases from the depths of his chest.
“We have a lake house in Tyler. I want you to spend your suspension there.”
“What? I didn’t agree to that.” He’s literally pouting—lips poked out and everything.
“Actually, you did. What idiots signs his name to something before reading it thoroughly?” I scoff.
Wiley reaches around me and plucks the document off my desk and starts skimming it. “Samantha.” My name comes out in a grumble and so I’m guessing I’m Samantha to him when he’s ticked at me. He halfheartedly pushes at me to get off his lap, but I latch on.
“Tyler is only two hours away. You won’t be that far. Stop pouting about it and look at the potential.”
“Potential?”
I try smoothing his pinched brows back apart with my fingertip. “I’m spending all day Monday with you.” I offer this not even sure it’s an appealing proposal to him at this point.
He seems to be thinking things over and a lopsided smile finally forms on his lips. “You have to promise to wear the peach lip gloss.”
“Done.”
“And you have to promise I’ll get to taste it.”
“Done.”
“From your lips this time.” The pinched brows relax as one lifts in authority. That’s my guy. As long as he feels he has the upper hand. Whatever the big guy needs.
“That’s probably doable.”
“Not good enough of an answer.” His words are presented in that coach’s voice of his.
“Done.”
“It most certainly is.” The wild glint in his eyes confirms I may be in a whole lot of trouble.
*****
Arriving to a chilly November day at the lake with no cloud in sight, my own tension dissolves and disappears in the crisp air. I park beside Wiley’s black monster and meet him on the front porch. After we enter, I march him straight to the master bedroom to take care of some important business. And he’s all game until he figures out we have different game plans.
“Why?” His hands are perched on his lean jean-clad hips. He doesn’t wear jeans often enough in my opinion. The man definitely knows how to wear a pair well.
We keep having a standoff, with Wiley having no intentions of giving over his cellphone.
“You’re suspended from it, too. But don’t worry. All of the numbers you could possibly need are on a card by the house phone. I even called your mom and gave her the house number.” I wiggle my fingers palm side up, waiting for him to relent. He finally does and places the phone in my awaiting hand. Powering it down, I lock it in the house safe hidden in the closet.
“What if my team or staff needs me?” He’s all but whining.
“You’ll be contacted in emergencies only. Call me Wednesday before you leave and I’ll give the combination for the safe.”
Folding his arms over his broad chest, he glares down at me. “I’m still not happy with you.”
“You’re allowed. Now how’s about we get your mind off things.” I head for the door, but find myself locked in his arms.
His lips touch the tip of my ear before he speaks. “I can think of something that’ll get my mind off things.”
Laughing nervously, I wiggle out of his grasp. “Your momma says she’s raised a perfect gentleman. Don’t go proving her wrong. Now behave.” I head straight through the house and out the back door with Wiley hot on my heels. Thank goodness, we are both in thick sweaters and jeans. The wind has quite a sharp nip to it today.
“I think we’ve danced around long enough, Peaches. I want a kiss.”
“Well, demanding it like that isn’t very romantic.” My nose wrinkles and my eyes squint in disapproval as I give him a sidelong glance.
“I didn’t take you for being a romantic kind of girl.” He smirks.
“Try again later. You’ve ruined the mood, buddy.” I lead him down the pier and to the end where a few Adirondack chairs await us. Sitting down, I motion for him to join me.
“This is it? We’re sitting?” He grunts a few beats as though he finds the chair unappealing. “I’m not a sitting around kind of guy.”
“I know, but you can hold my hand while you give it a go.” I offer my hand and he secures it in his calloused yet gentle grasp.
The view is exquisite with the vast body of dark water undulating softly and the trees surrounding it prot
ectively. We watch a group of lazy turtles get lapped by a bustling crowd of ducks. They squawk at the turtles, but the lethargic creatures pay them no mind.
It’s fairly quiet this time of year. Aka peaceful. I settle in and mellow out. Unfortunately, my antsy guest only lasts ten minutes, before he is up and moving. We end up walking the shoreline a majority of the day, but I still consider it a success when I witness his bunched up shoulders relax and the scowl on his face replaced with a contented smile.
I think the combination of the calming lake and being completely unplugged from the electronic world is the reason for that smile. It’s like obtaining an exclusive pass to just be. And nothing more.
I called ahead and had the kitchen stocked with food, so I busy myself with grilling some chicken and veggie kabobs for an early supper. There are huge picture windows in the living room, so I exiled Wiley there to try relaxing some more. He wasn’t so crazy about not finding a TV in the house. After piling two plates full, I walk them out to the living room where I find the larger-than-life man passed out cold.
Placing the plates on the coffee table, I give pause to admire his face relaxed in sleep. I’m guessing the man doesn’t get many opportunities to just unwind. With his head resting on the back of the tall couch, a vulnerable peace is evident. I could just stand here and take in the view, but my fingers itch to participate as well.
Sitting beside him, my fingers reach out and gently test the scruffy yet appealing dark stubble on his cheek. Never did I see myself growing attached to him, but it’s happened without permission. Even his bossiness draws me to him. I can’t explain it. And honestly, that’s why I’ve not allowed him a kiss yet. Because just as soon as I do, I know I’m a goner, but the yearning to experience that connection with him has become overwhelming.
I don’t have much experience in the kissing department. Most guys I’ve dated ended up being intimidated by my dad or salivating at the mouth over him. Neither group is appealing in the least and ended up just being a big hassle. But this man sleeping in front of me is such a different story. I have a feeling Wiley Black would be worth any hassle presented. My main worry is that I’ll disappoint him.
The nervous tremor of my hand ebbs as my fingers softly thread through his thick locks. The hue is so dark, it’s close to black. Wiley is still out cold, so I scoot a little closer until our breaths mingle and pause there a while to build up some courage. I whisper my lips across his and the world tilts when his eyes open, and I’m instantly captured by the power in that stare. His strong arms lock around me and gently tug until I’m completely on his lap.
Holding each other’s gaze as though they are fragile gifts, our lips softly meet again—testing and exploring languidly. It’s so tender and slow and has set an ache so dangerously sweet that my body shivers from its force. Wiley leads this kiss and when he lightly beckons my lips to part with his own, all I can do is follow. Warmth and peace floods my senses and I never want this kiss to end. For surely I won’t survive it.
We explore the depths of this kiss with no time clock ticking down with demanding we hurry. Nothing to hold us back and his vice grip on my waist not allowing me to flee even if I wanted to. But I don’t want to flee. Not even a little. The slow pace picks up and becomes urgent and I cannot seem to get close enough to him. This is so new and delicious and all-consuming.
Nothing has ever felt so right, yet so scary. It’s like I just nosedived off a terrifyingly-steep cliff, but find myself landing in a soft fluffy cloud of serenity. I would almost swear to the fact that my lips were created to do nothing but kiss this man.
As with any moment in time, it must come to an end. I reluctantly release Wiley’s lips and press my forehead against his so that I can catch my breath. The strong rising and falling of his chest indicates he’s in need of air, too. My lips and the tender skin surrounding them are tingly and feel bruised in only the best of ways.
“I’d like nothing more than to be waked up by your lips for the rest of my days, Peaches.” I think he added Peaches to downplay the seriousness of the statement he just proclaimed. I’m not a girlie girl who’s going to get all flustered and overanalyze his words, but for the rest of his days is a really long time…
“I’m sorry,” I say, before moving my lips to the warmth of his neck. When they explore the tender skin behind his ear, I feel a shiver race through him and hear a deep rumble escape his throat.
“Why?” he asks, his voice husky.
“I forgot to put on my peach lip gloss.”
Cupping my chin so that I sit back up and look at him, Wiley says, “Baby, that kiss couldn’t have gotten any sweeter.” There’s no doubt that baby is an endearment this time, and I like it too much.
“I don’t know… Maybe we should try it with the lip gloss to be sure…” I pull the tube of gloss out from my pocket and we give it a good go. And just let me tell you, kissing this man can only get sweeter.
Chapter Nine
The offense has forty seconds to hike the ball. Only forty seconds. Decisions have to be made and not gone back on. There’s just no time for second-guessing. And no matter what happens once that ball is snapped, the players have to follow through and endure any consequences of that choice.
Leaving Wiley at the lake house was a decision I felt firmly about and was proud I followed through with it. Arriving back to my office late Monday night, another decision challenged against the time clock with no room for second guessing. Could I have done it differently? Yes. Millions of other moves have taunted me. But what’s done is done and now the consequences…
The consequences are divvying out as Wiley’s fists slam a locker viciously, causing the entire locker room to ring out in his anger. The place is abandoned due to an emergency meeting being called. The players got an unexpected day off until we can calm Wiley down.
“You left me in the dark on purpose. That’s the whole reason you ordered me to Tyler. To be out of your way!” Fists pound the metal lockers again. I’m thinking I was stupid instead of brave for volunteering to tell him.
“That’s ridiculous. I had no idea about the offer until I got back late Monday night. You know as well as I do, a trade window starts closing as quickly as it opens. It was a wise decision and I don’t regret it.” I speak calmly, opposite of his outrage.
Crossing his arms, Wiley peers down at me with his face painted a violent shade of red. “This is my team and it’s my right to know about trades or anything else you owners choose to pull on my boys.”
“Jones was a ticking time bomb and you know it. You owe it to Grant to have the best offensive line. You wouldn’t want to fail him the way your coach failed you.” I have an urge to shove him, but tamp it down.
“Don’t bring me up in this.”
It may not be very wise, but I push forward anyway. A point needs to be made. “Those three guys had no business on the field that day. They were still drunk and dangerously dehydrated. Your coach must have known—”
“Enough!” The one word growls out so ferociously, a flinch jolts out of me.
Storming out, Wiley leaves me with all of his hurt and disappointment weighing heavily on me. My legs give out from the burden of it and so I slide to the floor. This is why I don’t get close. I have choices I have to make for the betterment of this team. I’m responsible for keeping their best interests my focus. Wiley said it right when he told the guys he doesn’t see individuals—only a solid unit. I saw the solid unit was not properly working, so I jumped on the chance to fix it.
My thoughts flip back to Wiley and the way his hand in the football spotlight painfully played out. I’ve watched the video of not only his injury, but the entire game up to that horrible accident more times than I care to admit. Those three linemen were clearly intoxicated. Reports later confirmed it and they were delivered temporary suspensions, while Wiley was forced into a permanent one. Would the accident still have occurred regardless? Who’s to say? But when both those defensive linebackers broke throu
gh like butter with one taking Wiley in one direction while the other took his leg in another, the football nation dropped to their knees to mourn.
I can’t have that on my clock if it’s preventable, so Jones had to go.
*****
“A trade offer came in late Monday night from Florida. We felt it in the best interest of the team to act upon it. Keller was offered in exchange for Jones,” Cooper says from the head of the long table.
The rustling of papers is the only sound in the conference room as staff and coaches look over the trade agreement.
“Keller is five seconds slower at the line than Jones.” The offensive coach grouches this out with other coaches murmuring in agreement.
“He may not be as talented as Jones, but Keller is dedicated. And more importantly, eager to improve. You can work with that.”
I sit quietly, feeling like I’ve already done enough, and let Dad take the lead in the meeting. Another paper is handed out and I know all about it, too. Wiley didn’t and it’s evident when he releases a harsh sigh from across the table. He’s sitting right in front of me, but is diligent on not acknowledging me.
“There was no way we could have predicted such an outcome, but I’m thankful Miss Shaw went with her instincts on this. Jones got off the plane Wednesday morning and was deep in celebrating his trade that night. This morning Miss Shaw received this email.” Cooper taps the paper. “A sixteen-year-old girl claims he sexually assaulted her at the party, and charges are being brought up against him. I hate this has happened to the girl, but am relieved we didn’t let him soil our team with his stupidity. For that, thank you, Miss Shaw, for making the hasty decision. I know you didn’t make it lightly.”
I nod my head at Dad, knowing he’s trying to alleviate my guilt for not including Wiley.
“Black, is there anything you would like to add?”
“No, sir, Mr. Cooper. I think you covered it all.”
The meeting dismisses and everyone exits but me and Dad. I’ve requested him to stay back this time.
Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas Page 15
