by Taylor Hart
Will pounced on that admission. “That is my point. We can complain all day about the women who are in our lives, but what about the ones we’ve lost?”
Neither Evan nor Dalton spoke.
Will turned away from them. “Maybe I’m just feeling a bit lost after seeing the hope in my brother’s eyes, but … I want that.”
Evan cleared his throat. “And you think you could have had that?”
Will’s heart raced and he thought of Tara Lighthouse, the girl he’d thought he would marry from high school. “I had a first love.”
Evan snorted. “Is said first love available now?”
Determination surged through Will, and he knew what he was going to do when he got out of here. “I’m looking her up when we finally get out.”
Dalton grunted. “Hmm.”
Evan turned to Dalton. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about someone special, too?”
Dalton shrugged. “I actually saw a social media post from this girl I was sweet on a long time ago the other day. Maybe I’ll look her up, too.”
Evan glared at Dalton, then back to Will. “And what do you think they’ll say? Hmm? If they’re even available—which they probably aren’t—they’re going to say, ‘Well, of course I want to go out with a professional football player. Can you buy me a car?’” He pointed the last comment at Dalton.
Dalton glared at him. “Oh, shut it, Evan.”
“I’m with Evan,” Leon said.
Will realized he couldn’t explain it to Evan. Dalton was definitely a lost cause after everything the last girl put him through. Not to mention Leon.
“What?” Evan asked, defiant and ready to rumble.
Will tilted his head to the side. “Nothing.”
“Say it.” Evan stepped up to him.
An idea flashed into Will’s mind. “What if …” He grinned. “What if we placed a bet?”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “What are you are talking about, Kent?”
Dalton looked wary. “My accountant hates it when I get involved in one of your bets, Kent.”
“You know how I feel about betting.” Chase rubbed his clean-shaven head.
Will laughed, thinking of the last time they’d had a guys’ night out. “No,” he said. “How about calling it a friendly Christmas week bet?”
Evan sputtered out a laugh. “You’re crazy.”
Dalton frowned.
“Interesting.” Chase leaned back against the cement wall, crossing his arms.
Evan nudged him. “Fine, get on with it.”
Will grinned. He knew Evan could never refuse a bet. “We’ll need some parameters.”
Dalton’s frown deepened. “Great. Now we have ‘parameters.’”
“Find your first love or the woman who got away. They have to be single,” Will said, using a finger to list off each one. “You take them out on a date and kiss them by Christmas Eve.” He opened his hands like he had offered them a solution to their worst problem.
Evan outright laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. What if they’re not single?”
Will shrugged. “Then you find one who is.”
Dalton looked pensive.
“Love is like a stormy sea—” Chase began.
Will lifted his hands higher, like a master of ceremonies, cutting off Chase. “And the one who can’t do it or won’t complete it has to face Cameron Cruz.”
“No!” Evan kicked the ground and his face soured.
Leon just shrugged.
Dalton let out a snort at Evan’s antics.
“That’s worse than losing a bunch of money.” Chase leaned forward, making it obvious he was interested.
Will knew he had Dalton. Reaching out, he pushed his shoulder. “What do you say, Ruff? Are ya in?”
“No!” Evan protested, again.
Dalton laughed and lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”
Will laughed, too. “C’mon, Ev! Why not bet on first love? What do you have to lose?”
Evan gulped. “Have you ever heard of ‘kill the messenger,’ man? Were you paying attention during Shakespeare in high school English?”
Will moved to his side and gave him a nudge. “C’mon, Ev. Is the number one guy in sacks in the league gonna turn down a little competition?”
Evan rolled his eyes.
“Preach?” Will studied the running back but already knew he was in.
“God is love. Surely, he wants that for me. For all of us. I’m in.”
“Leon?” Will asked.
Leon smiled one of his Mona Lisa smiles—like he knew something they didn’t. “Sure. I can do that.”
Evan still shook his head.
Dalton cocked an eyebrow. “That’s fine. If Evan doesn’t want to bet, then he automatically gets to face Cameron by himself.”
Evan tensed. “You guys are jerks.”
Dalton, Will, Leon, and Chase laughed.
“We know. Are you in?” Will pounded Evan on the back.
A guard came to the jail cell door. “You’re all sprung.”
“’Bout time,” Evan said through pinched lips.
Will grinned. “That’s a yes.”
The guard opened the door, and they all filed out with new purpose.
The team attorney was waiting for them. He had new phones in hand and a scowl on his face. “I have Uber drivers out there to give you a ride wherever you want to go, as long as it’s straight home.” He chuckled darkly. “I feel bad for you guys when Mr. Cruz gets back.” He walked away.
The rest of them watched the attorney leave. Will turned to his friends and winked. “The bet stands. Have a good Christmas, and may all your first loves come true.”
Evan made a barfing sound and stuck his finger down his throat. “I hate you, Kent.”
Chapter 2
Tara Lighthouse stood at the window of her sixteenth-floor penthouse apartment in downtown Denver and peered out at the dark skyline. Tears ran down her cheeks as a numb feeling settled into the center of her chest. The divorce had been finalized a week ago. It’d been an expedited divorce. The judge had granted it because they’d only been married six months and she had camera footage of her husband, Zeke, and the maid in bed.
It’d been a bitter thing, because she and Zeke had started a PR company together two years ago and had been doggedly determined to make it a success. They’d been lucky, picking up some big names. The trouble was, since the divorce and the split of the company, Zeke had spent the last week poaching the big-name clients. Today she’d found out she essentially had nothing. Zeke had siphoned the clients away so quickly.
Truly, the real trouble was the pregnancy test she’d just taken. Holding it in her hand, she stared at the little pink lines that told her it was positive.
Last month, when she was scrambling to get the divorce done and take care of clients, she hadn’t even noticed she’d missed her period. Three days ago, she’d had lunch with her secretary, Shelia. She’d been nauseated and queasy and hardly ate anything. She’d explained that she’d thrown up that morning, and Shelia had asked if she was pregnant.
Tara had dismissed the idea because she was divorced. That had been foolish on her part, because the night before she caught him with the maid, they’d been intimate.
A million garbled thoughts ran through her mind. How would she tell Zeke she was pregnant? How would she take care of a baby by herself? How would she run a business? No, how would she start a new business from scratch? She’d lost everything. With Zeke gone all of a sudden, she didn’t even have family to turn to. Her early life was spent in the foster care system, family to family, never really feeling accepted anywhere. Except the Kent family.
The thought flashed through her mind so quickly, she made a point to dismiss it. She laughed, and it had a sharp edge to it. Will Kent. The boy she’d loved all through high school. The boy she’d refused to marry. It’d been more than unnerving when he’d come back to Denver after serving his time in the military and was immediately picked up
by the Storm.
She pushed thoughts of Will Kent out of her mind. It wouldn’t serve her to think about what could have been. No. She was way past high school sweethearts.
Nausea threatened to rise, and she put a hand to her stomach, trying to quell the feelings. Her mind spiraled back into “what if” mode.
Snow had started to fall, dropping slowly in the sky and landing on her deck patio. Tara opened the sliding doors, enjoying the sting of the cold air. Not caring that she was in a black, sleeveless dress and barefoot, she stepped out onto the patio and gripped the railing, leaning down and feeling a bit of a rush. She actually liked heights, liked standing at the top and looking down. It’d always made her feel in control. Last year, on her birthday, she’d gone skydiving with her friends, and the feeling of falling had been something she could easily get addicted to.
Pulling back, she sucked in a breath and thought about what it would mean to jump.
No. She’d never kill herself. No. Her thoughts changed: Why did she have to stay in Denver? She didn’t. She could leave and not have to tell Zeke about being pregnant. She wouldn’t have to tell anyone.
She could give the baby up for adoption. Yes. There were a lot of good people in the world, all the happy couples who wanted a baby. And they would love the baby and be united, not fighting over the baby.
Her mind flashed to abortion. In a world with no foundation and in which she was all alone, every option battled in her brain for consideration. Of course, abortion would never happen. No. She would never do that.
The truth was, adoption might be a possibility. The idea flooded her with preemptive regret. Under different circumstances, she would have been so, so, so happy to be pregnant, to be having her own child. Having children was one of her dreams. Right now, though, it was too overwhelming.
She took a deep breath. If she did resettle while she had the baby, where would she go?
California Dreaming? That was a thing, right? Or maybe Texas? She’d never really thought about relocating. Even if she didn’t have family, she still had a home. She’d grown up in Colorado, most of it in Greeley, and Denver had been her home since she’d attended DU. All her friends, her clients—her old clients, anyway—were here. And the old friends who were Zeke’s friends, too.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she let the snow fall on her. It was starting to seep through, but she ignored the chill. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about trying to be a mother on her own. Forget the overwhelming thought of just having the baby, not to mention sleepless nights, nursing—would she nurse or bottle feed? A million decisions she didn’t know how to make. She hadn’t even really known her mother. Granted, she reached for those memories of her. Wanted them. She’d only been nine when the car crash had happened.
More tears fell, and she put her hand to her stomach. “I won’t let you be raised in a fractured family. I won’t.” The thought of sharing custody with Zeke felt like a nightmare. He’d been vicious about ruining her, about telling the clients lies about Tara to get them to his side. She put her hands over her face. How would she do this? How? How?
She looked down from the balcony again. Soft streetlights lit the sidewalk far, far below. The ground beneath might be a reprieve from the harshness of everything
The chill saturated her, and it wasn’t just the cold air. Her entire life was a frozen tundra. Could she really do it? She imagined the front page of the paper or the online article: Tara Lighthouse, of Lighthouse PR, found dead this morning of apparent suicide.
They’d used her last name for the company. Would Zeke even feel bad about it?
No. She couldn’t let these thoughts persist and get a hold on her. Teetering back, she fell into a patio chair. What would her friends think? That she’d lost it? They might just be right. Humiliation burned her cheeks, and she found herself doing something she hadn’t done in a long, long time.
Leaning forward, she linked her hands together and bowed her head. “Dear Lord, help me. I know I haven’t prayed in a long time, but I need you. I need help.” She sniffed.
Ding dong! The doorbell sounded through her apartment.
It jolted her. It was almost nine o’clock. Who could it be at this hour?
Ding dong.
Normal people couldn’t get past her doorman. Maybe it was Zeke, although she was sure he wouldn’t ring the doorbell, just come right in. She’d gotten her keys back when they’d met at the attorney’s office last week to sign papers, but she didn’t put it past him to still have a key.
Ding dong.
Annoyed and freezing, she got up and rushed inside, sliding the door closed behind her. Freezer burn, she thought. That’s what her toes felt like, and her arms, and the tip of her nose. She paused in the dining room and in the mirror. Her face was red, like she’d been out walking in the cold.
Ding dong.
Whoever it was, they were persistent. Maybe it was a neighbor. She had the old cat woman to the side of her who was in charge of the building association, and she’d come down on Tara and Zeke pretty harshly if they violated any of the rules. Like one time he’d left his snow boots in the hall and she’d let him know that was not allowed.
Tara reached for the knob, but hesitated.
Ding dong.
Well, crap. She flung the door back, ready for battle with her ex or with Ms. Henley.
“Tara?”
Her mouth fell open. Standing there was the man she’d been thinking about only minutes before, the man she’d refused to marry their senior year. “Will?”
Chapter 3
Will found himself staring at this gloriously raw aqua-green-eyed blonde goddess. All Will could think was, Papa has come home.
It’d been quite a process to track down Tara Lighthouse. He’d started with Google and then gone to all the social media sites, and he was impressed that she owned a PR company in Denver. When he’d stopped by the office right before five today, the secretary at the front desk, a woman named Shelia, had been a bit starstruck, and spilled her guts to him. That was the cool thing about being a pro football player who the city was in love with—people felt like they knew you and wanted to help you out.
When he explained he’d known Tara since high school, the secretary had confided about the recent divorce and breakup of the company. “I knew things had been rocky since day one with them,” she’d said. “They were only married six months, but the fighting was bad.” After that, it hadn’t been hard to get the secretary to give him her personal address. He’d signed the Storm coffee mug on her desk.
Walking into an explosive romantic situation wasn’t really the place Will wanted to be, but he’d been the one to offer up the bet. He had to go through with it. With the whole shoulder situation, Will had to do everything possible to avoid any more butting heads with Cameron Cruz. No way.
The other fact was that Tara was divorced. For Will, that was a double-edged sword: she was technically available, but she’d suffered some hard times.
Now, as he stood facing Tara, he could tell she’d been crying. He didn’t understand why she looked red and blotchy on her neck and arms. The tip of her nose was Rudolph red. “How come you’re so cold?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
Shaking her head, she muttered, “Is this some joke? Really?”
“Tara, can I come in?” He needed to tell her everything he’d been feeling the past couple of days.
Tara shifted her gaze to meet his, and he remembered so many things about her in this moment. Her aqua-green eyes were the same color as the ocean in Maui. Which was so perfect, because he’d been thinking about those eyes for days now.
Tara blinked, stunned. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He shrugged. “In the flesh.”
She put her hand to her head. “I must be going crazy.”
His eyes raked over her. She wore a black, sleeveless dress, and her feet were bare. She was slender, but her face was more like a woman’s face than he remembered, her cheekbo
nes more defined than they’d been in college. Her hair was wet, and he realized she was shaking, chattering. “Tara? Why are you wet? You’re freezing cold.”
A confused look crossed her face. “You really just showed up tonight out of the blue?”
Like he would tell her about the bet. “Bad timing?”
She gave him a dumbfounded look. “Uh … yeah.”
For a second, he doubted if he should have come, but he was committed. “What can I say, I wanted to catch up.”
“Pfft.” She scowled at him.
“What happened to you?”
“I—I was standing out on the patio, and I guess I stayed out a bit long.” She looked at her hand like it wasn’t part of her, and he saw it was trembling.
“No, you’re really freezing.” Sure, he would expect she’d had a couple of hard weeks, but she looked like she might be in the middle of a breakdown. “Tara, let me come in and help you, please?” This overwhelming need to help her rushed over him.
“Why?” she asked, putting her hand down. “Why do you want to help me?”
Should he tell her about the magical fruitcake Tom had been given and the trip to Maui? Should he say how ever since Tom started talking about falling in love nonsense, all he’d been able to think about was his first love?
He remembered when she’d slapped him on graduation night and told him, “You’re too cocky and arrogant and full of yourself, so why don’t you see yourself to the door?” Now, he realized, she’d been right. She’d been right about everything. He’d never loved a woman the way he’d loved her, even though they’d never even been together in any physical way, which still mystified him.
He opted for a version of the truth. “A lot has happened in my life lately, and … I think you’re the only person who can set me straight about a few things.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, her whole body shaking. “Please, Will, a lot has happened in my life too and I can’t do this.”
It was a bit shocking to have a woman turn him away, considering he had to literally hire people to keep women away from him. “Tara, please.”
