ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: M.V.B. - Most Valuable Baby (Sports Secret Baby Romance) (Contemporary Interracial Pregnancy Romance)

by Lexi Ward

  The cover of “How to Raise and Love your First Infant” hidden behind a romance novel cover, Tanya read the book and made annotations in it. Her baby bump was showing more and more by the week, and soon, she would have to come clean to her father about the pregnancy. But for now, she focused on studying on how to be a mother. Her shelf was now full of mother-to-be typed books, all of their covers hidden with different ones.

  She sat on her bed, one hand on her belly and the other hand holding the book. When her phone buzzed, she leaned over to look at its screen.

  Eric Reed was calling.

  Her heart twisted. She sat straight again and tried to return her focus back on the book.

  But Eric kept calling. Over and over again. It wasn’t until he left a text that Tanya finally caved and grabbed the phone.

  The text read: “We need to talk. Please pick up.”

  Eric called again.

  Tanya closed her eyes. She wanted to answer—wanted to hear his voice, to touch him, to hold him. She shook her head and put the phone on silent.

  There was no going back now. She couldn’t act like an addict for Eric when she had a child to think about. She had to let him go, and that meant he needed to let her go, too.

  The next day, she went to the mall without her phone. She wanted to get away from it—away from Eric’s messages—and she also wanted to check out some baby things. Though she was too nervous to actually going into these stores in case someone caught her, she hung outside of them and peeked in.

  A scent—she had no idea what it was—wafted out toward her from one particular store, and it soothed away some of her aches. She smiled, her gaze wandering over the cribs, the changing stations, the baby clothes…

  She didn’t know how long she stood in front of this one store, its name and brands unimportant to her. Deep down, she knew she should keep walking if she didn’t want to look suspicious—or even just plain weird—but she couldn’t help herself. The sights, that smell…it was blissful.

  “Man, you’re really serious about this kid thing.”

  Tanya went cold, eyes blowing wide. Full of denial for a few seconds, she was slow to turn around and face Eric Reed.

  Eric gave her a gentle smile, his hands in his pockets.

  Want and love flooded through her system, tormenting. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to look away. “How did you find me?”

  “Your dad said you would be here.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Dad told you?”

  Eric laughed a little and shrugged. “Yeah. I think he pities more than he’s mad at me. Begging for you like I was must have convinced him.”

  She blushed, guilt clawing into her. “Eric—”

  “Please, just listen for me for a little bit, okay? If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave. I promise.”

  Tanya nodded and hugged herself.

  Eric inhaled sharply. “Look, I…I tried to get over you. I really did. And I thought it would be easy, too, because I’ve gotten over exes before. But you…you’re different, Tanya. I need you. I need your smile, your laugh, your questions, that possessiveness of yours—” He smirked, eyes glimmering with too many emotions to count. “I need you more than anything else in this world. I’m so in love with you that it hurts to breathe without you. Success means nothing if I can’t share it with you.

  “I know you want kids. You clearly want them very badly. And that scares me, I won’t lie, but if you are willing to give me a chance, I will work hard and do whatever it is I have to do to be the best dad I can be.” He took a step forward, breath stuttering out of his mouth. “I love you. I love you, and because of that, it doesn’t matter what the future brings us. So long as I have you, I have everything I need to be the kind of person I want to be. That I need to be.”

  Painful hope squeezed her chest. Tanya could barely breathe past it, her eyes stinging. She wanted to believe him—wanted him so much—but he needed to know everything before he could proclaim such things to her. “I’m pregnant, Eric.”

  Eric’s eyes widened, then snapped to her stomach. He gaped at it for a long while, his entire body stiff.

  Tanya flushed. Embarrassment coming over her, she croaked, “Eric?”

  Trembling, he reached out toward her, his fingers brushing over her stomach. His eyes rose back to hers. “Mine?”

  She glared.

  He smirked. “Just checking, sweetheart.” His glassy eyes returned to her stomach, and he released a shaky breath. “I swear, whether you take me back or not, I will be there for this kid. I will try so hard for you both. I’m just…”

  “Scared?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s okay. I’m scared, too.” She leaned toward him and allowed herself to hope, to breathe him in. Tension eased out of her. “I really want you back, Eric. If you think you can do this with me, then—”

  “Yes, yes, I swear it.” He leaned toward her and fervently kissed her cheek and her jaw. “Yes.”

  Relief burst inside of her. Mindlessly, she grabbed his face and kissed him. She moaned into it, nearly falling against him. God, it had been too long…

  He kissed back, his motion gentle yet passionate. His fingers remained pressed over her belly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Months later, Tanya wore a skimpy hospital gown that clung to her sweat-coated skin. Though her lower half was numb, exhaustion—no, a sensation heavier than exhaustion—from the exertion of birthing her child made her dizzy, her breathing erratic. She blinked hard, unable to keep her eyelids very high up.

  “Is he okay?” Tanya choked out, looking for the nurse who had her baby.

  Eric squeezed her hand tightly. “He’s fine. They’re taking real could care of him now. I can see him.”

  “How’s he look.”

  “Beautiful,” Eric said, squeezing harder. “Just like his mom.”

  She smiled and cried, joy and fatigue crushing her sense of awareness. She leaned toward Eric’s voice.

  Then her baby wailed, and she stiffened.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Eric said, rubbing her arm and her shoulder. “They’re just making sure he’s breathing. And he is, very well. He’s got quite the set of lungs on him.”

  “I want to see him,” she whispered. “I want to see.”

  “They almost have him ready, baby. Almost. He’s doing great.”

  Her head fell back against the pillows. “Let me see…” Lips pressed against her temple, and she smiled, reassured.

  A shadow came over her, followed by a sweet and tired voice of a nurse. “Here’s your baby boy. You ready to hold him.”

  Tanya forced her tired eyes to open wider, and she shuffled herself up into a better sitting position. Her gaze immediately landed on her son, wrapped up in a blue blanket. His eyes—bright, like his dad’s—were wide open and looking around at everything little thing.

  Love, so intense and powerful that she couldn’t breathe, erupted beneath her breastbone. Tanya cried harder and reached for him, her precious boy.

  The nurse gently placed the infant in Tanya’s arms, and then the nurse backed away and let Eric press himself closer to Tanya.

  “What should we name him?” he asked, his finger gently brushing over the baby’s tiny fists.

  The baby beamed at his father’s, and Eric’s exhale choked off. “Hi, baby,” he said, curling his finger around the baby’s fist. “I’m your dad.”

  The baby seemed to smile gently.

  Tanya’s heart soared and melted all at once. She leaned heavily against Eric, her eyes never leaving her child’s. “He’s perfect. No name will be good enough for him.”

  Eric snorted softly. “He’s going to have a big ego with a mother like you.”

  “And with a father like you?”

  “Crap. It’s going to be massive.”

  She laughed, tears escaping her eyes and trailing down her jaw. The baby smiled again, and she cooed at it. “Hi, sweetie. What should your na
me be?”

  It was so hard to think past the drugs, the exhaustion, and the love. Tanya was on the verge of passing out, but she fought past the need. She focused on her boy, on ideas for his name.

  Eric hummed against her temple. “How about…Chance?”

  She shook her head. “No, he doesn’t look like a ‘Chance.’”

  “Isaac?”

  “No.”

  “Kyle?”

  “No.”

  Eric harrumphed, making Tanya laugh wetly again. “You are hard to please, baby.”

  “It needs to be perfect,” she repeated.

  “Well…shy of naming him ‘Jesus,’ we could call him Christian. Or Chris.”

  “Chris.” She smiled at the baby—at Chris—and he smiled back. Tanya nodded jaggedly. “Chris. That’s it.”

  “Chris Lawson-Reed,” Eric said proudly, his lips tickling her head. “I like it.”

  “I do, too.” She hugged Chris a little tired. “Hi, Chris. It’s so good to finally see you.” She pressed her lips against his soft forehead, his warmth and his scents overwhelming her in the sweetest way possible. “I love you so much.”

  “I do, too,” Eric whispered, resting his hand on the baby’s leg. “I love both of you more than anything in this world.”

  Tanya finally looked over at him. Eric, in a pair of scrubs, bags under his eyes, hair a mess, his team playing a game without him—

  “I love you, too,” Tanya whispered, staring into Eric’s eyes.

  Eric gave her a watery smile before gently kissing her. His hand made its way over Chris and on top of her own hand.

  It was perfect. Just perfect.

  THE END

  Blitzed by the Baller

  CHAPTER ONE

  Football players are like cymbals made of out cement. They start off as soft and malleable. They are trained and taught to grit their teeth when things seem hard and, over time, they become impenetrable, immovable and hard bodies made for smashing into each other. But cement can break and so can football players, especially the ones who play like they are invincible.

  Noah Alexander, the quarterback for the Carolina Panthers, was such a player. They called him ‘The Engine’, as in he could. No matter what, Noah Alexander was unstoppable. He had a history of doing the impossible. Once, when the opposing team set up a defensive line, he pushed against five men to make it to the touchdown line. He was essentially a God. He looked like one too. He could be Thor’s brother, well, not his actual brother. Loki wasn’t all that cute. Perhaps the better word would be Thor’s twin. Blond hair that he tied up for games. His man bun was too hot for words. Piercing eyes but instead of blue, they were green. I wouldn’t say that I was obsessed or anything, I watched the games the same as everybody else. But I would say the issue of Sport’s Magazine where he was shirtless is still in my bedroom nightstand, even though it’s three years old. He had zero ounces of fat. His herculean body was a series of cut sinew, sculpted by angels. If anybody wanted to see anatomy in true form, they needed only look at him. He looked like a god and, unfortunately, he walked around like he was one too.

  It was no secret, Noah Alexander got what he wanted. If he wanted you, you were expected to come. It would be an alternate universe for a woman to deny him company and why would you? He got the best seats and treatment in any establishment. He looked like a star and treated the women on his arm like one. Translation: he treated them like a dime a dozen. He brought his team to the Super bowl twice and was expected to bring them the win this year. It seemed nothing could or would stop the Engine. He was revered so highly that, despite his severe tumble in last night’s game, people expected him to be in the next game in two days from today.

  “Guess what babe?” I asked the man in front of me. He wasn’t looking at me or appreciating the décor of the fancy restaurant he took me too. He was looking at his phone. His screen merely an extension of his arm.

  You would think he would pay more attention given where we were, and it was on his dime. Cieux, meaning “heavens”, was the newest “it” restaurant on the block. It was the kind of place they served caviar on small silver platters and decorated in a black and silver theme. The waiters, no waitresses, wore white gloves and called every customer “sir” or “ma’am”. For some reason, the fancier the restaurant, the more misogynistic it was. They would know useless things about what type of nuts are in the chocolate torte and how the rabbit loin is cooked. They’d know words like tarragon and what wines go best with your meal. The cost of one appetizer could feed six families in Bangladesh for three months. The chef, I imagined, knew nothing about cooking with butter and only served organic ingredients. It was nice but too much. I was a southern girl at heart and just fine with a hearty bowl of chili or a burger off the grill.

  “What?” he murmured. He was well versed in responding with appropriately ambiguous words. “What?”, “Really?”, “Wow”, “That’s interesting” and my personal favorite, “uh huh”. Uh huh meant go on, it said, “I’m listening but only halfway.” I can’t remember the last time I had Bradley’s full attention. Well yes I can, it was when he proposed. I suppose one can’t bend on one knee, hold up a ring, declare his love and check his email.

  “I was offered the job to be Noah Alexander’s physical therapist,” I said excitedly.

  “Is that right?” he said, flickering his gaze between me and the phone.

  Of course, the only reason I get his attention is because I have the potential to expand his connection network. Bradley was a schmoozer, the biggest one of them all. What purpose did people serve in one’s life if not to solicit professional and business gain? It was infuriating but despite all this I loved him.

  “Yes. They called me this morning.”

  “Well, I hope you said yes,” he said staring into my eyes. I could see the dark brown pools that convinced me to say “yes” when he asked me to marry him, and I realized I missed them.

  “I said I was thinking about it. It’s a big job. Can you imagine what kind of public firestorm would ensue from this? I don’t know if I want people prying into my life. I prefer to stay private.”

  He set his phone face down on the table. “Well, it’s not like you’re hiding any major secrets. You barely have a life. What would they find or report on? How many books you read a day?”

  That sounded a lot like something offensive, if only it wasn’t true. “Well, tell me how you really feel.” Why was he even with me if I was so boring?

  He grabbed my hand and rubbed along my wrist. “Harper, you know I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, but you’re mine. I wasn’t saying you’re a bump on the log, merely pointing out that your private life won’t be disturbed. The public will ask you a few questions about his physical condition and leave you alone.”

  I sighed. He made it sound so simple. But I knew better. All the media needed was a little fire to fan. They would take this for all it was worth. It didn’t matter that I had never met the man before or that I was his physical therapist, I just knew they would add me to the long list of people he might be sexing. It wouldn’t matter that I was engaged, in fact, it’d be even better. They could speculate about the potential harlot I was being, because who in their right mind would say no to ‘The Engine’. Oddly enough, I was asking myself the same thing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You can’t do this to me, Coach,” I screamed. I sound desperate, but that’s what I am.

  “I’m not doing a thing to you, Noah. Have you seen your X-rays?” he asked, knowing I stared at them in disbelief. “You can’t play. You just had surgery on a shattered ACL and that ain’t something I can change.”

  I had already skipped a game and wasted two weeks away babying it. Ice, elevation and massaging it just like the doctors requested. Then surgery and now these damn crutches. I was going to get rid of them one way or another.

  “The game’s in two weeks. I’ll be better by then.” I sounded confident. I felt useless.


  “You think I was born yesterday?” he said, turning away from me. “If you’re better in two weeks, I’m the queen of Sheba. You’re benched, and that’s final.” Then he walked away.

  I can’t be benched. You know what happens when you’re benched? You don’t play. The bench means loser. Only losers aren’t on the field. Only quitters take breaks. Only the weak need to catch their breath. I was none of those things. I’m the freaking Engine! I am a machine. I don’t need time to heal. I don’t know who the coach thought I was, but he was about to become the Queen of Sheba. Just watch.