The Devoted Groom
Texas Titan Romances
Cami Checketts
Copyright
The Devoted Groom: Texas Titan Romances
Copyright © 2018 by Cami Checketts
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Daniel Coleman, Valerie Bybee, and Shaleena Moy.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
About the Author
The Conflicted Warrior
Risking it All
Also by Cami Checketts
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Chapter One
Bree Stevens pulled up to the wrought-iron gate and pushed the button. She couldn’t see anything but an asphalt drive through the dense trees and foliage.
“Yes?” A deep male rumble came through the speaker.
Bree pasted on a smile in case Ryder Quinn, the Texas Titans’ famous cornerback was watching. The man was beautiful, reclusive, and supposedly charming to the few who knew him, but Bree was here professionally and was going to stay strong. Repeat that over and over, Strong woman, strong woman, strong woman.
“Hi! I’m Bree Stevens.” She smiled into the camera and let out a small giggle. Kill me now. Goodness sakes, she sounded like a teeny bopper. Hopefully, he’d chalk it up to nerves, not the fact that she had no real-time experience.
“Yes, you are.” His voice was warm and welcoming. “Please park anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Bree was amazed he’d offered to let her park anywhere. Her rattletrap 1990 Civic was liable to leave oil, antifreeze, or possibly a bumper on his pristine driveway.
The gate swung open silently, and she puttered through. If there were any angels in heaven who cared, her car would make it up the driveway, Ryder would hire her, and she could find someone to tow the car away and buy a vehicle that was younger than her with all the money this job offer had promised. Most importantly, she would find her sister.
She wound through the thick trees and up a slight incline. She loved Cedar Hills and its rolling hills, loads of trees, and views of Arlington and Joe Pool Lake. A clearing in the trees came, and the gorgeous house appeared. The exterior was red brick with lots of windows. Bree parked in the circle drive, took a steadying breath, and flipped her door open. This was her big chance. Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it.
The February weather was fresh and lovely, probably sixty degrees. Still, she started sweating immediately upon bounding out of her car. Several of her foster moms had been constantly annoyed that Bree couldn’t stop moving. Well, she was an adult now and could dance anytime she wanted to.
She fluffed her black, curly hair. It was extra huge today, but that was on purpose. She’d found sometimes she could distract men from drooling over her face with lots of hair. She doubted this celebrated, reclusive football player would be sucked in by her face, which she’d heard far too often was “perfect and exquisite,” but it seemed to be a problem for a lot of men.
Grabbing her purse, she strode up the wide sidewalk, admiring the tinkling fountain, well-formed shrubs, trees, and weed-free flower beds. Having been shuffled through foster care until she aged out, she couldn’t imagine living in a home like this. Thankfully, she was smart enough to earn a scholarship to The University of Texas at Dallas and had also received funds from the state that were earmarked for foster kids. Sadly, the scholarship and state money didn’t cover her master’s program in speech pathology. On top of that, the program had been so intense she had to cut back her hours waitressing at The Mansion, an exclusive restaurant in downtown Dallas. She’d acquired almost fifteen grand in debt between tuition, books, fees, and rent for her cracker box apartment. She lived on top ramen, except for when the restaurant had plates sent back and the chefs would box them up and send them home with her. She loved them for that.
She reached the ten-foot wooden door and squared her shoulders. Raising a hand to knock, she jumped when the door swung open. “Balls of pelican poop!” She put a hand to her chest. “Sorry, you scared me!”
Ryder Quinn stood on the threshold, holding a towheaded little boy in one arm and smiling at her as if she were a circus performer.
Bree took a step back. He was bigger than she’d envisioned. At least six four, and every line of his body was defined. She prayed he was as kind as everyone claimed, otherwise the sheer strength of him was a huge warning flag to her.
She took a deep breath and forced a smile, fluffing her hair before sticking her hand out. “Bree Stevens.” That sounded professional, right? Not like she was barely out of college and not sure how to present herself?
Ryder’s eyes swept over her. She’d heard he was sought after by many women but he never gave anyone a second look. The speculation was he still mourned his wife. It was hard to blame the women for trying though. His blue eyes were framed with long, brown lashes. His face was sculpted and shadowed by a trimmed beard a few shades darker than his short sandy-blond hair. His lips were almost as incredible as his eyes, a slightly-bowed upper lip with a fuller lower lip. She could imagine the women fought for the sheer hope of tasting those incredible lips.
Those lips she was staring at turned up, and he shifted the little boy higher as he offered his hand to Bree. “Welcome.” It was just one word, two syllables. How could he draw it out and make it all warm and appetizing? As if he were welcoming her to be part of his life, to privileges and blessings she’d never dreamed of.
Snap out of it. She tried for a professional smile and put her hand in his. Wowie, wow, wow! His warm and slightly rough palm felt so manly and perfect against hers she wanted to just hold on. His gaze sharpened on her as if he felt the same connection that was racing through her. For some insane reason she felt like this man would protect her rather than objectify her. She had to remind herself that she didn’t know him and she needed to tread carefully.
“Ryder Quinn,” he murmured.
Bree pulled her hand back and chuckled uneasily. “I know who you are.” She put her usual sass in the syllables. She’d acquired a lot of sass and some decent fighting skills to keep her mostly safe in foster care, rough schools, and college.
He smiled deeper, and she tilted to the side, needing something to lean on. Unfortunately, there was nothing, and her heels had her tilting even further. She would’ve fallen into the flower bed if Ryder hadn’t grabbed her with his free hand and steadied her.
“You okay?” He arched an eyebrow, clearly thinking she was a bit unstable.
Be professional. Be professional. Bree smoothed down her silky floral shirt and blue pencil skirt. “Yes, thank you.” She focused on the adorable boy in Ryder’s arms. “And who is this handsome little man?”
The child gave her a dimpled smile. His blue eyes were identical to his father’s, and his blond hair was a curly mop o
n his head. She wondered if Ryder’s hair would look like that if he allowed it to grow long.
Ryder grinned, clearly proud of his son. “This is Tate.”
“Hi, Tate.” Bree extended her hand, and the four-year-old put his hand in it. He nodded graciously, as if he was royalty giving her the opportunity to touch the royal fingers. She waited, giving him the chance to say something. Nothing at all. Her eyes flickered to his father. If his son’s silence bothered him, the only indicator was a slight tightening of his smile.
“Come in.” Ryder gestured her inside, standing back to give her room. Bree appreciated that, as getting too close to him wouldn’t bode well for her mental state. A lot was riding on this job opportunity, and she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by this odd pull she felt to her future boss. Well, hopefully her future boss. She had a few other options at grade schools in Dallas. They’d be good jobs, but nothing like what Ryder was supposedly offering. Her counselor had explained that Ryder’s agent had called the school looking for the perfect person to help his son, and she’d recommended Bree. It was a huge opportunity for her straight out of her master’s program, and it might mean she could finally find her sister. Fourteen years of missing Jasmine. Her little sister had been the toughest, funniest, and cutest little girl. They’d been separated when Bree was ten and Jasmine eight. Jasmine had been adopted by their foster family, but the family had only wanted one daughter, and they hadn’t allowed the sisters to stay in touch.
She stepped into the air-conditioned foyer, her eyes bugging out over the luxury around her. The house was unreal. The foyer was completely open and massive, with its own formal sitting area and fancy side tables. The only separation from the foyer to the main living room was a ledge and two steps down. The sweeping staircase on the right side of the foyer rose to a wide loft and balcony that overlooked the living room. The living area was spacious with different leather couch arrangements, tables, and a see-through fireplace that was indoor and outdoor. The entire back of the house was glass and overlooked a large infinity pool, sweeping lawns, and lots of trees bordering the property. The home was set high enough on the hill to see a lake in the distance beyond the trees. To the right, on the backside of the main living area, archways opened into a kitchen and dining area. To the left, there was the only closed door. She assumed it was the master suite but didn’t want to let her mind wander there. She’d be staying in this mansion with this well-built man, with only his toddler son for a chaperone? Yikes.
“This is the bomb diggity!” She couldn’t help exclaiming.
Ryder had walked in next to her, softly closing the front door. He watched her expectantly as if he cared what she thought of the house. He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Seriously, this is the most fantastic house I’ve ever seen in my life.” Bree bit at her lip. She needed to tamp down her enthusiasm. If he realized what she came from, he probably wouldn’t want her around his child twenty-four hours a day. Hopefully, he’d like her exuberance, or she might as well leave now. She wasn’t going to be all prim and proper and have no fun in life, even for this lucrative job opportunity.
Ryder chuckled. “Thanks. Let’s go in the office and discuss the job.” He gestured to the right then waited until she moved first.
“Okay.” Her throat felt dry. She clasped her hands together and walked in front of him. They skirted around the sweeping staircase to another section of the house she hadn’t noticed on her initial perusal. They walked under an open archway into a spacious office. The windows here were in a rotund shape that overlooked the driveway and the trees bordering it.
Still holding Tate in one arm, Ryder gestured to a leather chair in front of the desk. “Please.”
Bree sat, keeping her back stiff. He waited until she was settled before walking around behind the desk and sitting in a huge rolling chair. It was a deep red leather and looked like a throne to her. His manners amazed her. She’d been shuffled from home to home throughout her childhood and had never really been taught manners. In college, a lot of guys seemed almost afraid to open a door or wait for a woman to sit as some women didn’t appreciate the gestures. The little things, like Ryder making sure she walked in front of him and then standing by her chair until she sat down, meant a whole lot to her. It meant he cared. No, that was silly. He didn’t even know her. It was probably just ingrained in him.
“You’re very proper,” Bree said, imitating an English accent. “Were you raised by an English nanny?” Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth then whispered between her fingers. “Sorry. Overstepped there.”
Ryder gave her a roguish grin and started laughing. “You’re blunt.”
Bree’s face felt hot. Luckily, with her smooth brown skin, he wouldn’t see her blushing. “I apologize, sir.” She was a mess trying to act professional when she really had no clue how. College had taught her how to succeed in a classroom but not in the real world.
Ryder waved that away. “No. You can’t call me sir. My dad’s sir.”
“What should I call you?” She stared into those deep blue eyes and found herself wanting to know so much about him. Was it true he didn’t date because he was still mourning his wife, or was it impossible for him to find anyone equal to his own perfection? Where did he come from? Who was he behind the handsome face? What kind of a father was he?
“Ryder or Ry.” He nodded and bounced Tate slightly on his right knee. “What can I call you?”
“Bree.” She spread her hands. “Pretty boring when your name is short, no nicknames.”
“I like Bree.”
All the fears Bree had felt about coming here floated away. Ryder was solid and good and didn’t seem to care about her beauty or her uncertainty of how to conduct herself. She liked his vibe, and he was obviously an involved father and a nice guy. She didn’t envision herself fighting him off like she’d had to a few of her foster brothers and caretakers. She’d had counseling with her pastor her first year of college that had helped her put all of that junk in the past and turn it all over to her Savior, but she was still leery of men sometimes.
Ryder was studying her almost without blinking. It was like he was enthralled with what he was seeing, but not in a creepy, check-you-out kind of way.
“You have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
Bree nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and quickly questioning his vibe. This was going to be about her looks then? Yes, she’d noticed how handsome he was, and she knew he’d notice her face, but she needed to keep her distance. If only she knew how to act professional, while still being herself.
“I get that a lot,” she said.
He lifted his eyebrows. “And people say football players are overconfident.”
Bree shrugged and shifted in the chair. “It’s not something I’m proud of. I try to keep the hair big to draw attention away from my face.” She flipped her curly locks.
He chuckled. “Sorry, but I don’t think it’s working. Your hair frames your face and shows off your delicate bone structure, the smooth skin, your perfectly formed lips, and those big brown eyes …” He trailed off. “Forgive me, I don’t think any man could miss noticing your beauty.” His voice was deep and much too appealing.
Noticing her beauty, and what would that lead to? Her palms grew sweaty as she remembered far too many men complimenting her and then quickly trying to take it to the next level.
With that, she was out. She stood, not willing to risk being put in a situation where she’d have to fight off her employer’s advances. Especially in this intimate of a situation, only her, him, and a four-year-old.
“I’m sorry. I would love to work with your son, but I don’t think this is going to work.” She strode toward the doorway, cursing in her head, wondering if she was overreacting. Just because other men complimented her then went right to pushing boundaries didn’t necessarily mean Ryder would. If she left, how would she pay off her student loans and find Jasmine?
Ryder was in front of her so quickly she darted to the side to avoid running into him and Tate. Apparently, being a football cornerback made you faster than the Flash.
“Please.” He touched her arm, and the warmth that shot through her made her more uneasy than him saying how beautiful she was. He pulled his hand back quickly but stayed right in her space. He smelled like the most delicious musky, manly cologne she had ever smelled.
He stared down at her, his blue eyes beseeching her. “Please. Don’t leave. We need you.” He gestured to Tate who was watching her with those same blue eyes. The little man clung to his dad’s neck.
“You need me?” How did he need her? What exactly was he implying? His next words were going to make or break this interaction.
“Tate needs you.” He corrected himself. “I’ve tried everything.” His voice was full of desperation. “Every medical idea, traditional and otherwise—therapists, psychiatrists, foot zoning, acupuncture. Try watching your son being poked with needles, and you’ll know how desperate I am.”
Her heart went out to him. He hadn’t let the little guy out of his arms since she’d walked in and was obviously a devoted parent. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to allow an acupuncturist to work on his son.
“You’re my only hope. We need you here twenty-four hours a day, helping him, watching us, seeing what I can do better. I’ll do anything.” His voice cracked, and Bree saw behind the handsome, accomplished professional to a desperate, loving father who would do anything for his son, even if it meant humbling himself. “Your professor said you were top of your class, but it was more than that. She said you were empathetic, funny, and had been through hard things, but you’re still happy and full of life. We need … all of that. Please.”
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