Keeping Wicked (The Mitchell Brothers Book 3)

by Kathryn L. James

  “I’m sorry, I already have plans,” I lied.

  “Saturday then.”

  I swallowed hard. wanting to say yes and jump on an opportunity to have a good time. But I knew I’d never look at him the way he was looking at me. There was zero attraction.

  “Maybe…”

  “The head coach’s daughter would fall under the same fraternization rules as dictated in your handbook, McWhitten. It constitutes strict fines and or termination.”

  All the air whooshed out of my lungs because without looking, I recognized the husky baritone voice.

  What the hell was Chad doing here?

  In ever so slow motion, I turned toward the man who held the power to steal my breath and make me melt just by looking at me. He looked better than in my dreams and millions of butterflies suddenly fluttered around in my stomach. I couldn’t have uttered a word if I’d tried.

  He deadpanned a fierce hard stare at Kevan, who turned red with embarrassment. Chad didn’t let up, his jaw twitched, and lips were tight.

  God, he was so sinfully beautiful—and pissed.

  “My apologies, Miss Wright.” Kevan tilted his head to the side stretching his muscles in a tense moment. “Mr. Mitchell… no harm here. It won’t happen again.”

  “We’ll discuss this further on Monday morning. Be at my office at nine a.m.”

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Kevan curtly excused himself with an apologetic expression.

  “What are you doing here?” I finally managed.

  His intense gaze penetrated me deeply, making my heart lurch into over-drive.

  “How do you even know the coach is my father?”

  “This morning Harry and I had a meeting for the first time in his office. Imagine my surprise finding your pictures on his desk, walls, and every shelf.”

  “Why were you meeting with my father? And why are you here? Wait. Is Mitchell Oil purchasing the stadium?”

  “We’ve owned the stadium for a long time now.” He studied my face for my reaction as if I would have known that little tidbit of information.

  “If it’s not the stadium, then why are you here?” I gulped.

  “Because I own the fucking team.”

  The erratic beating in my chest felt like it slowed to a complete flat-line. Waves of nausea coiled in my stomach and I stood frozen in time.

  Holy fuck.

  Holy fucking hell.

  I. Slept. With. My. Father’s. Boss.

  All the blood drained from my face and the room began to spin. My knees felt as though they were going to buckle as I searched for my father. Thankful he carried on with a group of the guys, oblivious to the scene unfolding, I grabbed the table to gain balance.

  I was not okay.

  It didn’t matter than I didn’t know who he was at the time, what we did together was not okay.

  If the media got wind of any of this, we would be blasted on every social platform, newspapers, and magazines. A gossipy newsworthy story like this would be like dangling drugs before an addict. They would stop at nothing to air all the dirty laundry hidden behind the walls of the Wright home—a mother who chose the life of drugs over her husband and little girl. Preston and the night he melded me into an ice princess. And then the speculation would surface that my dad was given the position as head coach because his little girl slept with the owner of the team.

  Chad’s hand cupped my elbow for support. “I’ve got you.”

  I needed air. Bile pushed its way up my throat and more rolls of nausea tumbled in full force.

  Jerking my arm from his hold, I bolted down the hallway before I vomited on the floor in front of everyone. Frantic, I rushed to the far end of the house to Anita’s living en-suite. I knew he followed, but I wasn’t about to let him inside the private living area. In a rush, I whirled to close the heavy door behind me.

  “Stay away from me.”

  He pushed the door open and I jumped at his forceful entry. Bulldozing past me, I glared at his back and slammed the door with all of my might. He never turned around and I placed both of my hands flat against the sofa table sucking in air.

  “Did you know who I was before we slept together?” Refusing to look at him, I focused on a small crystal dish between my hands.

  “No,” he bellowed back. “We’ve always met in the boardroom or my office. I wasn’t aware until I saw your pictures everywhere today.”

  “What the actual fuck?”

  The first man I slept with—gave my fucking virginity to, was my dad’s boss.

  “Was McWhitten your date the other night?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to go out with him?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I heard you say maybe.”

  “I hardly doubt he’s interested since apparently it will lead to termination of his contract for the team.”

  “That’s not why I asked.”

  “Then why are you asking, Chad? What the hell difference does it make? And come to think of it, why would his job be on the line? Hell, the fucking owner of the team has already broken all the rules!”

  Chad’s jaw clenched and he brought his piercing dark shade of espresso eyes right in front of mine. Something raw and primal exuded from him, only fueling the stirring need for him to kiss me once more.

  But it was an urge and this urge had to be wrangled and kept at bay.

  He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly as if he could read my cravings at worth with good sense.

  God, what that mouth felt like on my body.

  Don’t look at his mouth. Keep your focus on the eyes that made me feel liked like gooey warm honey.

  “Fuck the rules. Fuck all the rules.” He grabbed the nape of my neck and drew his mouth to mine before I had a chance to resist.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered against his warm sinful lips, knowing it was wrong, but wanting it to be right.

  “Something I shouldn’t.” His husky words dusted across my flesh like a magical surrendering potion spilled from his lips.

  He angled his head to the side, turning the kiss into an aggressive and needy taste that almost felt punishing. A moan slipped from my throat and liquid fire spread through my veins. One of his hands snaked around my waist and held me tight against his rock-solid body. Caught up in the moment, my fingers threaded his silky hair at the back of his head.

  Subconscious warning sirens fired in my mind, shouting fool over and over again, but I was speechless, lost in the way he made me feel. His hand slipped underneath the hem of my dress and slowly slid upward, and upward, and upward in the slowest motion.

  I wasn’t sure if I heard a moan escape my lips, but there was no denying the sound when it escaped the second time.

  Our tongues sinfully caressed one another, and my knees went weak. He let out a needy groan and I whimpered in approval.

  My father’s jovial laughter belted down the hallway and another masculine chuckle followed. I jerked back with terror filling my eyes. Chad pressed a finger to my lips, and thankfully the muffled voices became distant behind the sound of a door closing. I knew they were two doors down in my father’s office.

  He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. Both of our chests still heaved in and out, but the moment was gone. Regret filled both of our eyes.

  “That won’t happen again,” he bit out and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, I jogged along the trails around the perimeter of the lake in the heart of the city park. Unable to clear my mind of last night, I ran harder and faster until I thought my lungs were going to explode.

  That damned kiss burned into the depths of my soul. We barely knew each other and yet he held the ability to leave my stomach in knots. Sprinting along the lap, I glanced up at the bluest sky wondering if he were thinking of me? Of last night?

  Scowling, I adjusted the earbuds in my ears and t
urned up the volume on my workout playlist. Going on two miles, I slowed to a cool-down phase with my mind still turning like a hamster wheel.

  Damn Chad.

  Damn my father.

  Damn everything.

  Last night, long after Chad had stormed out, I managed to put my emotions in check. It took over thirty minutes to bid both Anita and Dad goodnight. There was no mistaking the cloud-nine expression on his face as he walked me to my car.

  “Thank you for coming tonight.” He opened my car door wearing a wry smile.

  A large part of me wanted to wrap my arms around him and accept he was trying to make amends—but I stood there forbidding myself to make it easy on him.

  “No problem. I’ll see you next week sometime,” I mumbled.

  That was all I had to offer right now. It was all I was capable of giving. Sliding onto the seat, I reached for the seatbelt hoping he would close the vehicle door without making the situation more difficult.

  “What about that dinner I asked you about? You pick the time and place and I’ll make sure I’m there.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. If the boys are on the field, you’ll be on the diamond.”

  “I’ll be there. I won’t let anything get in my way.”

  “I’m twenty-one years old and we’ve never sat at the table and ate, not once. You were never there to celebrate my birthday and I’m supposed to jump on your whim and be over the top excited to have dinner with you now?”

  He diverted his gaze to the ground then slowly looked back at me. A slice of pain clouded his expression and he smiled a sad smile. A wave of guilt hit me, but I had too much pent-up anger like a bubbling volcano ready to erupt.

  “You don’t know how bad I wish I could go back in time and have a redo.”

  “That’s the thing. It’s not an option.”

  He nodded his head. “You’re right, I can’t. But I won’t stop trying to make every day count, Leah.”

  Everything that happened last night pushed me to run harder than I’d ever ran before. My lungs screamed for air and my calves burned, but I kept pushing forward for twenty more minutes on the trail. Coming to a stop, I bent over, placing my clenched hands onto my knees. It took a bit to gain control of the heavy pants to feel the air suck into my lungs.

  Finally, I slowly stood straight and began walking effortlessly along the path to cool down from the intense workout.

  All the men in my life had been bad medicine; either selfish, toxic, or in the case of the latest—a bad idea.

  The first and none other than my own father broke my heart from the day I was born. I wanted to forgive him. I loved him, but it simply wasn’t enough. The second was Preston and he’d tried to destroy me—mentally and physically. He was a demon who consumed my life. The last ignited a passion with one sexually charged kiss, unveiled a yearning hunger, and breathed life into me when no one else could, Chad was a beautiful mistake that would forever be a beautiful memory.

  As I approached my car, I felt the vibration of my cell phone buried deep into a nylon pocket at my hip.

  Anita’s name flashed across the screen, probably asking about that tea party with gossip on the menu.

  “If you tell me what time, I’ll be there,” I said playfully in my best thick southern accent.

  “Leah…” She called my name in a cracking voice before crying hysterically.

  “What’s wrong, Anita?” Panic rose in my throat, heart slamming inside my chest.

  “You’re dad. He… They think he had a heart attack. An ambulance took him to Bridgewater General.”

  “Oh my God! Have you talked with him?”

  “He’s not conscious, Leah. I’m heading out the door now and will meet you there.”

  I jumped inside my car and spun gravel in the parking lot as I took off down the highway.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God, please let him be okay,” I cried out, numb and frantic to get to him.

  If he died, I… If I never got to see him again…

  There was so much to say to him. To let him know I wanted to have a second chance. To tell him I was mad, and maybe always would be, but I wanted to try to work past my pent-up anger.

  “He has to be okay,” I whispered.

  Pulling under the awning designated for valet services, I had already cried out a million prayers for him to be okay because we needed the chance to make things better. An attendant handed me a parking confirmation ticket and I bolted through the sliding glass entrance to the information desk.

  Her directions led me to the cardiac intensive care unit. Stepping out of the elevator car, several of the guys wearing dirt stained baseball attire were spread about in chairs while others stood around the wall.

  Kevan kicked off the wall and headed toward me. “Leah…”

  “How is he?” A fresh set of tears blurred my vision, wanting answers, but scared to death of what I might find out.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” He reached for my elbow, but I jerked away.

  “Just tell me how he is!” Panic seized me.

  “He’s in surgery. As soon as he arrived, they took him straight to the cath lab from the ER. During the catherization, they found several blockages that required a heart bypass.”

  This time he didn’t have to instruct me to sit, my legs gave away and I sank into the mint green vinyl chair.

  “He’s going to be okay, right?”

  “He’s critical, but they had to do the surgery or…”

  “How long has he been in? Have they given any updates?”

  “Not to any of us. They want to talk to you. The nurse said someone would check back frequently.” He pointed to the double doors in front of the chairs. “The nurse’s station is behind the locked doors, but there’s a phone on the information desk they said we can call for a possible update once you arrived.”

  One of the other guys I didn’t recognize sat beside me. “This hospital has top notch ratings for the heart program. My dad was here last year, and they took good care of him.”

  Another player handed me a Styrofoam cup filled with water and I tried hard to hold onto hope.

  “Thank you.” My hand trembled taking a sip. “I’m guessing he was on the field with you guys?”

  “He was. He started looking pale and we told him to sit down for a minute, but stubborn ass told us he was fine. Then he collapsed. Bivens called nine-one-one as soon as it happened. Somebody grabbed the AED, but it didn’t recommend shocking.”

  Why had I been such a bitch to him?

  Why didn’t I say okay, and just have a damn steak with him?

  “Did he complain of chest pain?”

  “No, but he hasn’t been himself for a few weeks. Last night a few of us noticed him looking… tired. He blamed it on getting older and being on the road so much. He told all of us to enjoy the party, stay as long as we liked, and he went to bed.”

  My stomach felt sick. I remembered the defeated expression and his slumped shoulders as he walked away from my car last night. I wondered if he’d started having symptoms and chose to ignore them. Squeezing my eyes closed, I swallowed the guilt laden nausea.

  “Harry’s going to be okay, Leah. He’s the toughest son-of-a-bitch I know… no harm in the name calling. He can outrun any one of us on the team, rarely eats anything unhealthy out on the road, and can dish out more than any of us guys could ever think about giving. For four years he’s been our coach and he’s never beat around the bush in putting us in our place when we step out of line. He’ll be back in full swing in no time,” Jericho offered.

  We sat in silence for a few more minutes before Anita finally buzzed into the waiting area. As soon as I saw her step off the elevator, I ran into her arms and cried like I’d never cried before.

  “Any updates?” She stroked the back of my head holding me tightly against her.

  “No,” I choked out.

  She continued to hold me, letting
me cry like a I’d never cried before.

  “I’m calling about Harry Wright. His daughter, Leah Wright is in the waiting room and I want someone to come give her an update right the fuck now,” Jericho’s voiced boomed, his jaw ticked. And his eyes were bloodshot. He looked as if he were about to smash the wall.

  “Lady, that was calm. I can do out of control,” he bit into the phone.

  “Jericho’s about to get his ass kicked out of the hospital like he got kicked out of the game in Sacramento.” One of his teammates goosed another in the ribs.

  Anita marched over, snatched the phone out of his hands, disregarding the fact that she’s five two against his over six feet. “Hello, I’m Anita Reardon. Please excuse the family friend. He usually has manners.” Pause. “Yes, Leah Wright has arrived and would very much appreciate an update as soon as possible.”

  Anita never moved her death glare off of Jericho, all the while the guys chided with loud playful shoves. If he pushed her, she would whack him and not think twice about it and by the way he looked, he knew it too.

  The next half hour crawled by, seconds felt like hours and my heart tightened in shear agony.

  I hated the sterile hospital smell.

  I hated waiting.

  I hated the twenty pairs of eyes staring at me when they thought I wasn’t looking.

  I hated the steel doors that hadn’t opened—not once since I’d arrived.

  But most of all, I hated myself.

  What if it were too late for a second chance? All the time I spent waiting on him to come home, I could have also gone with him. I could have gone to the stadium, celebrated my fucking birthday on any day of the year. There were times he’d asked me to sit in the skybox and I’d bitterly laughed in resentment.

  A doctor and nurse finally appeared through the double doors and the woman wearing green scrubs asked, “Are you Harry Wright’s family?”

  “Yes, I’m his daughter.” Anita supportively clutched onto my arm.

  “You can bring two with you to the consultation room where the doctor will speak with you.”

  As evidenced by them being here, his entire team loved him. I heard a few whispers calling out Jericho’s name. I looked at him and nodded.