by Nikki Ash
“I’m here too,” I find myself telling him.
Alex gives me a small smile. “I know, and I’m grateful knowing you’re this close. Although, I’m not sure you’d pick my sister over some hot blonde with big tits grinding on your cock at a club.”
See, that’s where he’s wrong. Little does he know, I’d pick Ashtyn over anyone, anytime. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, or our night together, since it happened. And believe me, I’ve tried. But the only fucking I’ve been doing is my hand, but try telling Alex that. He’d never believe me. Especially not after rooming with me in college. Different girl every night. Hell, a few times it was more than one, sometimes even together. Our place was a revolving door of hot women, and when it wasn’t football season, lots of booze. I enjoyed my college experience, probably a little too much.
“If your sister needed help, I’d drop everything,” I insist, trying to keep it casual, yet wondering if I’m failing miserably.
Alex stares at me, and I wish I knew what was going through his head. Back in the day, it was easy, but now, after long periods of absences, I admit, I can’t read my friend as easily as I used to. “I appreciate it. I’m going to give her your number before I leave. This way, she’ll have it if she ever needs it.”
I nod, knowing it’ll be programmed into her phone by the end of today, not days from now. “So, tell me about the interview,” I say, looking for a redirect.
Alex instantly smiles. “It went well, I think. I met with Roger Aspen and Tyler Duff. The position is in recruiting and available immediately. I’d work with Coach Colson directly, along with Roger, on scouting. The position involves a lot of travel, but I’m fine with that. Actually, I think I’d enjoy it.”
I shrug. “Living out of a suitcase and pizza box isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Probably not, but I’d also get to watch and meet players from all over the country. All those pro team reps I had to hobnob at Notre Dame would now be me. This world is full of amazing, talented athletes, and I’d love to be the one who goes out and finds the cream of the crop for my team.”
I completely understand where he’s coming from. I’ve given some thought to what if. What if I stopped playing football today? What would I do tomorrow? I’ve made enough money off my endorsements and investments to set myself up pretty nicely for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to just sit on my ass and watch television all damn day. I’m a worker, always have been. From my very first job at fifteen to now, I’m always busy doing something.
And now I might have someone else to consider. Two people, actually. If it turns out Rowan is my son, I’ll take care of him. Him and Ashtyn both. They’ll not want for anything and will have the best of everything. I’ll make sure of it. Though, something tells me she’s not the type to just sit back and let me swoop in and save the day like Superman. Especially since she’s still a little hostile toward me.
“Sounds like a great gig,” I tell my friend, pulling my mind away from his sister and back to our conversation. “And I’ll admit, it’d be pretty sweet having you here.”
Alex grins. “Agreed.” He sighs and leans his head back on the couch. “I love working at Notre Dame, but I’m too far away. If I don’t get this job, I think I’ll keep looking. I want to be closer to Ash, and you. I’ve got friends in South Bend, but it’s not the same. Hell, even my parents said they’re considering selling their place and moving this way.”
I glance over, noticing the stress lines around his eyes for the first time. He looks as tired as Ashtyn does. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “A year or two. Even before she got pregnant by some fucking loser. He probably doesn’t even have a decent job. Why else would he not be here, supporting his kid?”
I swallow hard. Yeah, this conversation is coming to a head and isn’t going to be easy. Probably one of the hardest I’ve ever faced. Even when I told my mom to stop reading the tabloid stories on me. They’re always based on perception, not fact, and the photos don’t help either. The assholes who follow me around have an uncanny ability to catch me at the most inopportune time.
Like the time I was at a club, chatting with one woman. Her drunk friends came up and all fell in my lap at the exact moment the one I was talking to shoves her tongue down my throat. The image made it look like I was having a fivesome right there in the VIP lounge. The headline read “Playboy QB Took Group Home Last Night.”
Or what about the time a woman with a questionable night job was leaving my building in the wee hours of the morning. Not from my penthouse, mind you. Yet, she stood on the sidewalk and talked about everything but my shoe size. My mom about died when she read the “Playboy QB Pays Top Dollar Call Girls” headline. There’s nothing worse than your mom calling, begging you to stop paying for sex like Charlie Sheen.
“I don’t know, man. I guess…maybe he has a reason?”
“What kind of reason keeps you away from your responsibilities? Did he move to Timbuktu?”
I can tell he’s getting irritated, and the last thing I want to do is piss him off by defending…well, me. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Alex. I’m just saying maybe there’s a reason, like, he doesn’t know?”
There. I said it.
Alex blows out a big breath that comes out a snort. “So now it’s Ashtyn’s fault for not telling him?”
I hold my hands up in surrender. This is going wrong, fast. “I’m not saying it’s her fault at all. I guess I’m just saying there’s more to the story than what we know, and she isn’t exactly talking. So, don’t get all worked up if you don’t know all the facts.”
Oh, I can feel his eyes glaring at me. Alex is super protective of his family, especially his twin sister. Always has been. One time in college, someone kept commenting about her to get a rise out of him while we were drinking, and Alex ended up punching the guy. We all learned real quick not to talk about his sister, even if we were teasing.
He sighs. “I guess you’re right.” Even though he agrees, I can tell he doesn’t exactly mean it. His face is hard and his eyes narrow, but the conversation is closed. He’s just done talking about it. For now.
I catch movement in the hallway and see Ashtyn slipping across to her bedroom, baby in her arms. I almost jump up and rush to help, but that’ll be too obvious to Alex. Instead, I sit in the chair and wait for her to join us. She’s there a few minutes later, yawning.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” I say the moment she steps into the room.
Ashtyn’s eyes narrow. “I’m not going to be able to take naps during the day when I return to work.”
“True, but that’s still weeks away, right? You might as well crash now while Row does.” I throw in a shrug, so she knows it’s just a suggestion and not an order.
“I agree, Ash. Tate and I will listen for Little Man,” Alex says, stretching out even more on the couch.
She yawns again. “But you’re only here for a couple of days.”
“Yeah, but I’m not leaving yet. Go take a nap. I’ll plan dinner,” her brother says.
“You don’t have to do that,” she argues.
“I do. Tate and I will grill something.”
She looks my way, one eyebrow raised in question. “You’re staying?”
“I have nowhere else to be,” I tell her casually, crossing my ankles and leaning back in the chair.
“Great,” she mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. “I guess I could go lie down for a bit. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Go, Ash,” Alex insists, and I’m grateful. She needs some rest.
“Fine, but just for a little bit. I want to hear all about your interview,” Ashtyn vows, as she gets up and shuffles back to her bedroom.
Alex and I are both quiet until we hear the door click shut. “You staying for dinner?” he asks, eyes on whatever is on television.
“Yep.” My answer is immediate.
&nbs
p; He looks my way but doesn’t say anything else. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
We watch some car program for about thirty minutes before his phone rings. Alex pulls it from his pocket and sits up straight when he sees the screen. “It’s Roger,” he says, referring to the VP of Operations of the St. Louis Fire. “Hello?”
They talk for a few seconds before Alex starts to pace. “Tonight? Oh, uh, I’m not sure,” he stammers, his eyes wide as he glances my way. Alex covers the phone and whispers, “Roger says the GM wants to meet with me tonight for dinner.”
“Go!”
“But what about Ash?”
“I’ll help,” I insist, realizing instantly how much I mean it.
Alex gives me a look, almost as if he’s not sure he believes me, and to be honest, a year or two ago, I probably wouldn’t have believed me either. Unless it’s about football, I’ve always been a little fluid when it comes to maintaining my commitments. There’s always another party or restaurant to be seen at.
“Seriously. The fact the GM wants to meet with you is great news, Alex.”
My words register as Alex goes back to his phone. “Yes, sir, I’m here, sorry. I’d love to meet you all for dinner. Six o’clock at O’Reilly’s? Yes, I’ll find it. Thank you, sir. I look forward to meeting everyone.” Then he hangs up the phone.
“Holy shit, man. The GM wants to meet me for dinner. This is huge.”
“It is,” I confirm.
“And you don’t mind hanging out here for a bit? I mean, I’m sure Ash would be fine, but I hate I just told her I’d make dinner, and now I’m going to bail.”
“First off, you know she’d understand, but second, I don’t mind at all.” Actually, I’m looking forward to it, but I won’t be telling him that.
“Well, if you don’t mind. Damn, I should head back to the hotel and shower. After dinner, I’ll come back here and relieve you. I’m sure you have plans later,” he says, grabbing his keys off the table.
“Nope, no plans,” I confirm. The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t believe me at all.
“I’ll text you when I’m done with dinner,” he says, glancing down the hallway.
“Don’t wake her. I’ll tell here where you went when she gets up.”
He nods in agreement. “All right, see you later then.”
I throw him a wave as he heads out the front door, leaving me here with his sister. Alone. The last time I was alone with her, I did dirty things to that sexy little body of hers. Those things definitely won’t be happening this time, but I’m looking forward to hanging out with her nonetheless.
And maybe finally getting the answers to some very burning questions.
Chapter Six
Ashtyn
I don’t know what startles me awake, but it takes me a few moments to get my bearings. Apparently, I was sleeping hard enough to drool, if the wetness on my pillow is any indication. I stretch my legs and stare at the wall, taking in the quiet.
Only, it’s not exactly quiet. I can hear a noise, like the floorboards beneath my carpeting is squeaking. And then I hear Rowan make a sucking noise on what sounds like skin. I turn over in my bed, only to come face-to-face with Tate. He’s standing beside my bed, rocking back and forth, Rowan in his arms. “He’s probably getting hungry,” he whispers.
“What…why are you in here?” I ask, confused over why he’s in my room, holding my son.
“Rowan started to cry. I came in to check on him after a few seconds.”
That’s odd. “He was crying?”
“Yeah, I was surprised you didn’t hear him, but when I peeked in here, you were dead to the world.”
I’ve been so tired lately. Could I have slept through my son’s hungry cries? What if it happens again?
“Don’t beat yourself up, Ash. You’re exhausted taking care of him, but you’re a good mom. Even I can see that,” he says, offering me a small smile that meets his eyes. They seem to turn darker, a deep golden shade of sex on a stick.
Wait, what?
Stop that.
“Thank you for grabbing him,” I reply, climbing off my bed. I was so tired, I didn’t even get beneath the covers.
“I’m no expert, but his diaper feels a little on the heavy side,” Tate adds, as I reach for the baby. My hands brush against his chest, which seems to do wonders for the libido I was sure dried up and died in the last ten months.
“I bet it is,” I answer, kissing the top of his soft, fuzzy head.
I head across the hall to change his diaper, Tate hot on my heels. I can feel his presence like a warm embrace, even though he hangs back near the doorway. Trying to pretend he’s not there is futile, especially when his aftershave makes its way across the room. It’s a sexy woodsy scent that would turn the best of girls into bad ones.
With a fresh diaper on, I scoop Rowan up and turn to face Tate. He’s leaning against the wall, watching my every move. A piece of hair hangs down on his forehead, my fingers itching to touch it. “Where’s Alex?” I ask, lightly patting my son on the back to give my hands something to do other than touch Tate.
His smile is instant. “He got a call from the Fire’s office. The GM wanted to meet him for dinner. He apologizes for not being here, but I told him I’d stay. I’ve got some chicken breasts I found in the fridge almost ready to go on the grill, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, uh, you don’t have to do that.”
Tate shrugs. “Alex and I were going to do it before he got the call, so no reason to change the plan. Besides, I don’t mind cooking, especially grilling.”
Rowan starts to fuss again, ready for another feeding.
“Do you always feed him in here?” Tate asks, pointing to the glider.
“Sometimes, yes. I’ve sat in the living room a few times just for a change of scenery,” I confess.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you come out and do…your thing? You can keep me company while I’m in the kitchen,” he says, and I swear I can see his cheeks flush.
“Oh, I don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You won’t,” he insists, glancing down at Rowan, a soft smile on his full lips. My heart skips in my chest, and I still can’t help but wonder what his game is. Why is he all of a sudden interested in my son?
I shouldn’t, but I grab a burp cloth and the lightweight blanket off the glider and follow him out of the nursery. Tate grabs a throw pillow and sets it beside me on the chair. When I get comfy, I slide the pillow under my arm, much as I did for my brother earlier in the day. It only takes me a few seconds to finish getting situated before I slip the thin blanket over my shoulder. Rowan latches on right away.
Tate busies himself in the kitchen, preparing dinner. I don’t know why it’s so comforting to listen to him move about my space, especially since no one but my parents have been here since I moved in. I’m used to quiet, to doing things on my own. Yet here I am, enjoying the sound of someone helping in the kitchen.
Rowan feeds for about twenty minutes, and throughout that time, Tate has popped his head in to check on me. He brought me water and a few slices of Colby Jack cheese he found in the fridge. By the time I’ve burped my son and he’s passed out again, I can hear Tate on the back deck, finishing up the grilling.
I decide to try the swing again. The first time we used it last week, Rowan wasn’t a fan. But he also had bad gas that day, and I’m wondering if it had something to do with it. Carefully, I set him in the seat and buckle him in, making sure all of the safety features are engaged before I press the button for slow swinging. It moves from side to side, gently rocking him in a soothing manner. Rowan doesn’t so much as make a peep, so I set the timer for twenty minutes and follow my nose to where the food is.
Tate is just returning to the kitchen, a platter of chicken in one hand and my grilling tongs in the other. “I wasn’t sure what you liked on your chicken, so there are plain, barbecue, and spicy,” he says.
“O
h, I should probably stick with plain, though the barbecue does sound good,” I say, taking a seat at the table.
“Why should you stick with plain?”
“What I consume, the baby consumes. So I should avoid spicy and acidic things so he doesn’t get heartburn or an upset stomach,” I tell him, reaching for a napkin.
“Huh, I guess that makes sense. Looks like I’m eating the spicy ones, though no hardship there.” He sets a chicken breast on my plate before placing one of the spicy ones on his own. “Oh, shit. The vegetables.” Tate walks over the stove and grabs a pan. “I hope you don’t mind I cut up some of the veggies you had in the fridge and on the counter. They looked good, and I thought they’d make a great grilled vegetable medley.”
Tate brings the pan over and scoops a healthy mound of veggies onto my plate. There’s squash, zucchini, carrots, and cherry tomatoes all together in a foil pan. “This looks amazing.”
He shrugs. “I hope you like it.” He takes a bite of vegetables before asking, “Where’s Row?”
It’s the second time he’s called him that, and I can’t figure out if I like it or not. Though, if my rapid heart rate and schoolgirl exhilaration is any indication, I’d it’s the former. “He’s sleeping in his swing in the living room.”
We eat in silence, but I’m all too aware of his presence. I still have so many questions, so much I want to know about why he showed up today with my brother, and before I realize it, the words are flying out of my mouth. “Why are you here, Tate?”
He slowly chews a bite of chicken before taking a sip of water. “Feeding you.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, not that. Why did you come here today?” My eyes plead with his to just tell me what’s going on.
Tate sets his fork down and gives me his full attention. “Because when I saw that photo of your son, something inside me felt like I was being strangled. It was confusing, yet comforting. I wanted to see him in person and find out if my suspicions were correct.”
