Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance (Touchdowns and Tiaras Book 3)

by Sosie Frost

  “Hey, Elle, you’re early,” he said.

  My voice shrilled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember those newlywed nights.” He winked at me. “Savor the precious months.”

  “Haha. Very funny.”

  “Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since Monday.”

  “Had to go out of town.” I hoped Peter had covered for me with the staff while I was in Gainesville. “Family stuff.”

  “Well, good thing you’re here. Peter’s looking for you.”

  My stomach curdled. I shook my coffee cup and pretended it was empty. “Can you do me a favor? Get me a new coffee? I’m going to need another pick-me-up.”

  Freddie laughed as he left the office. “Sure thing, Elle, but this is really something your husband should do for you…”

  The door closed. I dove at the computer, pulling off as many files and images as I could grab in a minute.

  Including the pictures of me.

  I didn’t have any time now. I had to move into phase two of my plan.

  Delay.

  And I hated to do it.

  I rushed to the women’s bathroom on the opposite end of the facility, far enough from the locker room, weight room, and cafeteria that none of the guys or female members of the staff would find me. I locked the door behind me and pulled my camera from the bag.

  I kissed it, silly as that was.

  “I’m so sorry I have to do this.” I whispered to her. It?

  I took a breath and bashed my camera into the bathroom wall.

  The plastic crinkled, and the lens shattered.

  I didn’t stop. Once. Twice. Three times I crashed my pride and joy into the tile.

  And, when it was done, I swore it was my own heart that fractured into dozens of pieces.

  I grabbed every last shard and tucked it into the bag. Nothing I could do about it now. I’d lived through worse, traveling alone as a teenager through bad neighborhoods with less than scrupulous people. I wasn’t afraid of a fight, and it wasn’t the first camera that had been stolen or broken.

  Just the first one I destroyed with my own hands.

  But I’d make it right. I’d survive.

  And I’d ensure the right people were punished for the Rivets’ cheating—not the innocent players who had no idea how corrupt the team was.

  I rushed to the field and found Peter. He followed me to the tunnel where we could talk alone. I didn’t have to fake the emotion—I was fucking upset. Frustrated and violated and absolutely gutted with the loss of my best camera, my right hand.

  I would have felt a hell of a lot better if I had a nude shot of him to wave around.

  “Elle…” Peter asked. “You okay? How was the trip to Gainesville?”

  “I have some bad news.”

  “Did you go to the camp?”

  I had traveled to Gainesville, snapping a couple pictures on my own. I even bought a little plastic alligator that doubled as a whistle to commemorate my stay.

  But I hadn’t gone to the Cougars’ camp. Zane de la Cruz was safe—at least, until he had to face Cole Hawthorne.

  “I did.” I lied.

  “And?”

  “Look, there was a problem.”

  That wasn’t what Peter wanted to hear. “I trusted you.”

  “I had an accident with my camera.” I rubbed my forehead. “I was outside taking pictures, and…someone grabbed it.”

  He didn’t believe me, or he didn’t want to believe me. “It was stolen?”

  “I chased him down, but there was nothing I could do.”

  His voice rose, a little too angrily for someone not berating a rookie. “You should have tried harder! Elle, I gave you this job because I believed you could handle it. You might not understand how important this is, but it’s easier for you to just do as I say than deal with any consequences—”

  I opened my bag and revealed the destroyed contents. “I chased the thief down the street. He dropped the camera, but I couldn’t get to it. A truck ran it over.”

  That silenced him. It was a horrifying enough image for someone sporting ten grand in camera equipment at any given time. Peter picked up the largest chunk with a sigh.

  “And the SD card?” he asked.

  Jackass. “My camera is destroyed!”

  “But what about the pictures?”

  “I lost the SD card. It’s somewhere in a gutter in Gainesville now.”

  “Goddamn it, Elle. How could you let this happen?”

  “It’s not like I wanted my camera to get run over.” Or my career. “Look, this is risky enough. Maybe its karma or something? We shouldn’t be doing this, Peter. What if someone found me out?”

  “Don’t let anyone find out.” His gaze hardened, the familiar blues now cold and calculating. “This is important, Elle. Fortunately, you should have enough money from your promotion to buy some new equipment.”

  “Peter—”

  “Maybe even your own eight hundred millimeter lens.”

  My mouth dried. “That’s a twenty-thousand-dollar lens.”

  “You’re doing twenty-thousand-dollar work.” He returned the hunk of camera to my bag. “With every risk comes a reward.”

  “Elle!”

  We both jumped. Lachlan jogged up the tunnel with a grin and a wink. The guys practiced in full-pads today, and Peter was smart to step-off when Lachlan got near. He might have grinned like a fool with dimples that’d charm the devil, but he was still a monster in his gear. My goofball was more than capable of cracking Peter in two if he had a reason.

  Lachlan dropped his helmet and grabbed my bag. “You know your camera’s broken?”

  “Thanks, Charming. I’m well-aware.”

  “What happened?”

  Peter cleared his throat. “She was mugged.”

  “Mugged?” Lachlan’s voice rose. I so didn’t need this lie getting out to the team. I couldn’t be the naked, sultry vixen and damsel in distress. Their heads would explode. “Jesus, Elle!”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said. “No one got hurt.”

  Those sea-foam eyes were too green—intense, protective, playful. Lachlan played the charming prince and mischievous rogue all rolled into one hyper-active superhero.

  “I should have known better than to keep the camera out on a sketchy street,” I said.

  “This sucks.” Lachlan’s smile revealed otherwise. “No. You’ll get a new camera. Today.”

  I turned, hiding my face from Peter’s view. “I’m handling it, Lachlan.”

  “So am I. You tell me what camera you use, and I’ll get it for you. Right now.”

  I couldn’t get him involved in this. “I have it covered. Insurances and things.”

  “Nope. You’re my wife, and I’m buying you a new camera.”

  Oh Lord. “It’s okay. Seriously.”

  He rummaged through the bag, peeking at the broken equipment. “Let me do this for you. It couldn’t have cost that much. A couple grand? That’s pocket change for me, Red.”

  Peter patted my shoulder. “Elle, the first rule of a happy marriage—always take money your husband offers.” He tried to joke, but I didn’t laugh. “The pictures are gone, but the camera isn’t as irreplaceable. You’ll need a new one soon.” He smiled at Lachlan. “Besides, everyone helps everyone else on the team. Remember that.”

  Peter shouldered his bag and hustled to the team as they began warm-ups. Lachlan waited with me. I didn’t mind seeing him so early in the morning, but his butt should have been on the field ten minutes ago, especially as a rookie who had fallen from Coach Thompson’s good graces.

  “Problem solved,” Lachlan said. “Don’t fight me, Elle. I’m trying to do something nice.”

  “I appreciate it, but—”

  “And since you won’t tell me what really happened with the camera…indulge me.”

  I stilled. How the hell did he know? What did he know?

  “What you mean, what really happened?”

 
; “Just seems strange, those dangerous Gainesville streets. You catching a mugger and then losing the camera anyway?”

  I crossed my arms “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

  Lachlan expertly dodged the question. “Listen to us, bickering like an old married couple instead of newlyweds who haven’t seen each other in two days.”

  I headed to the field. “You need to stop saying we’re married.”

  “What if I like calling you my wife?”

  “Then you’re either being cute…or suffering delusions of grandeur.”

  “Fight me all you want, Elle…” He took my hand and ignored the whistles summoning the players to the field. The sun glistened off his blonde hair and the line of stubble on his chin. “But you like me. You can’t deny it.”

  “I’ve already promised you a second date.”

  “But you haven’t said those three magic words.”

  “Temporary Restraining Order?”

  “Run all you like, but you’ve seen my time on the forty. I’ll catch you soon enough, and then you’ll have to admit what you feel.”

  I wished my heart hadn’t thudded so hard, fierce and raging. That damn adrenaline he loved so much was drowning me in my own fluttering panic.

  Why did he have to look so sexy in his pads and uniform?

  “What do you think I feel for you?” I asked.

  “Utter enchantment.”

  “Your nickname shouldn’t be Charming—I should call you Conceited.”

  “I’m taking you out on our day off.” He wasn’t asking me. “Clear your Tuesday. I’ve got something perfect planned. You’re going to love it as much as you love me.”

  “Setting the bar kinda low, aren’t you?”

  Lachlan didn’t ask permission. He pulled me close, crushing me against his pads for a kiss. I should have fought him off, but his lips brushed me for only a moment before they were gone.

  “Just wait, Red. I got some magic planned for you yet.”

  He left me on the sidelines, sprinting to the field as Coach Thompson flipped shit. Lachlan didn’t stay with the team—he owed the coach a lap around the field at full speed for being late.

  Idiot boy.

  Sexy man.

  Unwanted complication.

  He shouldn’t have made me feel better. I still shook with rage and fear and painful betrayal, but Lachlan had calmed me. I could think a bit more logically. And I formed a plan for putting out the giant fire that was my life.

  First, I’d do everything I could to build a case against the Rivets that didn’t implicate anyone innocent. Emails. Files. Pictures. Conversations. Everything documented and completely transparent.

  And then I’d plan for my next date with Lachlan.

  One down, two to go.

  He still thought he could make me fall for him in three nights.

  It was crazy…but I’d started to hope he was right.

  10

  Lachlan

  “You want me to do…what?”

  Elle was gorgeous when surprised. Her eyes widened and her voice wavered with that innocent quiver that practically whispered good girls don’t do this.

  I leaned in close. Encouraging her. Teasing her. “Come on, Red. I think you’re gonna like this.”

  “It’s a little too…adventurous.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of. It’s just us. Together. Sweating. Pumping.” I took a chance, nibbling her bottom lip. “I promise you’ll be wet.”

  “But it’s so dangerous.”

  “We’ll use protection.”

  She hesitated. “But what if the rubber breaks?”

  “Never had it break on me yet.”

  “Are you sure I can stroke good enough?”

  “You won’t let me down.”

  “And if I go end over end?”

  “At least I’ll get a good look at you.”

  Elle arched an eyebrow out the car window. She wasn’t impressed with the riverside town, but I’d heard amazing things about the rapids in this area.

  “You’ve really never white-water rafted before?” I asked.

  “I’ve always tried to avoid slamming my head on razor sharp rocks.”

  “What a coincidence!” I pushed her out of the car. “That’s the whole point of rafting. You’re a natural. A match made in Heaven with the other people in our boat.”

  “Excellent. We can all share the elevator up to the Pearly Gates when we drown.”

  Elle stretched, and I enjoyed every second of her curves on display. It took a two-hour car ride to get here, but I blocked the whole morning and afternoon for a river adventure she’d never forget.

  “The rapids here aren’t too rough,” I said. “I’m starting you off easy.”

  Elle searched the wilderness surrounding the river. The trading post rented bikes and organized tours from a path leading into the hills. Granted, it wasn’t like trekking the Yukon, especially with the McDonalds a quarter-mile back, but the air was clean, sun warm, and the whole valley smelled of sweet pine and adventure.

  Elle was up for a challenge, though she preferred to stay away from the danger. Her camera hadn’t left her hands the entire drive up, begging me to pull over so she could get pictures of the trees, the sunrise, a damn garbage can with a bottle broken next to it that she decided was a great illustration of the human condition.

  At least she liked the camera. Made the astronomical price tag almost worth it.

  She snapped a picture of the warning sign in front of the outfitters, detailing every which way someone could lose their limb or life on the river.

  “Are you sure you’re allowed to do this?” Elle asked.

  “My contract says nothing about rafting.”

  “I think you’re supposed to read between the lines on extreme sports. What if something happens? What if you get hurt and can’t play? You might not get another chance.”

  “Come on, Red,” I groaned. “We’re supposed to be having fun. Stop worrying about the team.”

  “I always worry about the team. I have to. And so should you.”

  “I do, but this is just a little boat ride. I wanted to bring you out here. I needed a break, and what better way to enjoy my day off than by spending it in the company of a beautiful woman?”

  “Suave,” she said.

  “I’m trying to give you the best date of your life so you can give me the best night of mine.”

  “Not so suave.”

  “Points for honesty?”

  She laughed. “Believe me. I know how badly you want to sleep with me.”

  “The plan isn’t to sleep. I’m gonna rock your world.”

  “Rock my boat is more like it.”

  I grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

  I wouldn’t beg her to raft with me, and I wasn’t going to force her, but I needed to do this. Something fun and wild. A couple hours of pulse-pumping, muscle-rending fun that I could use to forget how fucking terrible I was doing at training camp.

  I’d rather face some Class III rapids than another red-faced coach, hurdling linebacker, misread route, or blown catch.

  Except the outpost felt a little strange. No groups waited for their turn with a guide. No tourists took pictures. No little vendors selling ice cream and t-shirts. No music. No people.

  Just one particularly surprised middle-aged woman enjoying her never-ending game of Candy Crush. She lowered the phone as we approached.

  “Hi, folks!” She pointed to the stack of over-sized inner-tubes behind her. “Ready for some relaxing river tubing?”

  Elle got excited. “You have tubing?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A leisurely, four-hour trip down the river, with a shuttle service to pick you up at the end. Even has some complementary ice cream waiting for you on the trip back.”

  “Wait.” I pointed to the calendar on her wall, proudly displaying a raft with six people battling their way through rocks and white caps. “Tubing? What about the rapids?”

  “Oh, honey.
” She laughed, snapping a piece of gum between her teeth. “Haven’t had any rapids for two years now. Whole region’s had a bit of a drought and some odd weather. No rapids now. Just a slow and steady float down the river. Perfect for the elderly or children!”

  “Aw, we should have brought Bast,” Elle said.

  No. This was all wrong. “Look, there has to be rapids somewhere.”

  “Best I can tell you is to travel down to Maryland or up to New York. Weather changes have affected us all. The rapids used to be a big tourist draw here, but now…we tube! I can also rent you bikes if you like. There’s a lot of trails.”

  Elle pointed at me. “No bikes. You’ll jump right off a cliff. The tubing sounds great.”

  I nearly swore. “I wanted rapids, Elle. This was supposed to be something fun.”

  “Tubing sounds fun. You’re not getting a do-over on this one, Mr. Reed. Are you in or out?”

  She dropped her bag and peeled off her shirt to reveal a deliciously wicked, vibrantly purple bikini top. The violet material caressed her curves with an almost vulgar modesty. Her dark skin complimented the decorative beading, shimmering across good and perfect in the sunshine.

  She took a tube from the clerk. “You coming, Lachlan?”

  “Not if I think about baseball.”

  “Get in a tube before I drown you.”

  I paid for the event—including an extra inner tube to carry an overpriced cooler and her photography supplies as the river had to have some beautiful landscapes to shoot.

  The clerk showed us to the cement ramp loading us into the river. Elle squealed as she fell backwards into the tube and paddled off the shore. The most excitement I’d get was nearly toppling out of the tube and into the clear water.

  And we were off.

  At a breakneck speed of stationary.

  But Elle seemed to love it. She relaxed in the tube and sighed, letting the sun warm her already toasted body. She kicked her toes—painted the same coral purple as her bikini.

  Was she really content to let the river carry her in this fucking monotony?