Homecoming King
Jami Albright
Homecoming King
Copyright © 2020 by Jami Albright
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.
The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.
Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention infringement of the respective owner’s trademark(s)
Developmental Editor - LaVerne Clark
Copy/Line Editor - Serena Clarke
Proofreading - Angel Nyx
Additional Proofreading - Christina Montminy
Cover Design - Najla Qamber, Najla Qamber Designs
Cover Photography - Wander Aguiar
Cover Models - Andrew Biernat & Joli Irvine
Created with Vellum
To Kaufman, Texas, and Kaufman High School.
The places that made me, shaped me, then sent me into the world to cause all kinds of trouble.
The black and gold of Lion pride runs deep in my hometown, and that’s not something that fades with time or distance.
Go Lions!
K-town, you know!
Contents
Before you begin…
Prologue
1. Cash
2. Tiger
3. Cash
4. Tiger
5. Cash
6. Tiger
7. Cash
8. Tiger
9. Cash
10. Tiger
11. Cash
12. Tiger
13. Cash
14. Tiger
15. Cash
16. Tiger
17. Cash
18. Tiger
19. Cash
20. Tiger
21. Cash
22. Tiger
23. Cash
24. Tiger
25. Cash
26. Tiger
27. Cash
28. Cash
29. Cash
30. Tiger
31. Cash
32. Tiger
33. Cash
34. Tiger
35. Cash
36. Tiger
37. Cash
38. Tiger
39. Cash
40. Tiger
41. Cash
42. Tiger
43. Cash
44. Tiger
45. Cash
46. Tiger
47. Cash
48. Tiger
Epilogue
Something Personal
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Jami Albright
Homecoming King
The king of the gridiron is about to get sacked by a beauty queen with a grudge as big as Texas.
Cash King rolls into Ryder, Texas looking for a little TLC and an ego boost from the townspeople who call him their favorite son. But that ain’t happening. Which is just the cherry on top of the crap sundae that is his life.
His football career is hanging by a thread.
His mom isn’t speaking to him.
His hometown is out for his blood.
And Tiger Lyons, the girl he did wrong in high school, is supervising the renovation of his new home … and living in his pool house.
How’s the league’s premier quarterback supposed to rehab his battered body and regain his starting position, when the woman who still owns a piece of his heart—and now hates his ever-loving guts—is in his face 24/7?
Don’t miss Homecoming King—a hilarious enemies-to-lovers, arrogant football player with a heart of gold, sassy heroine rebuilding her life, small-town sports romcom.
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Prologue
Homecoming Dance 2007
Cash
Homecoming is stupid as hell.
Yet, here I am, anticipating my name being announced as homecoming king.
It’s not the title I want. It’s the girl, the future homecoming queen, Tiger Lyons. Yes, that’s her real name.
I can’t talk, my name is Cash King.
With a name like that, I’m destined to be a pimp or a professional athlete. And believe me, I’m doing everything in my power to make the latter happen.
Ms. O’Donnell, our principal climbs the stairs to the stage. Not long now. Then I’ll have the girl I can’t get out of my head, the one I think about even while on the football field, in my arms. I’ve had a serious crush on her since I first noticed girls.
She’s everything, and I’d do anything to be with her, but two things keep that from happening. First, Tiger’s dating Brad Watson, the town’s golden boy, and has been since our sophomore year. Honestly, I don’t know how she’s tolerated that tool for two years. I can barely stomach him for two minutes.
The second and biggest reason is that she and I are not in the same league. Oh, I’m good-looking enough, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was a member of the King family, I’d take her away from Brad faster than he can say second string.
The name King in this town, though … let’s just say that my family isn’t only from the wrong side of the tracks. We blew the tracks to hell, stole the scrap metal, then beat the crap out of someone with what was left. Good ol’ dad and my uncles … pieces of shit.
But it turns out the same characteristics that make the men in my family scary as hell and regularly in trouble with the law—size, aggression, being cunning as fuck—also make a pretty damn good quarterback. But no matter how good I am at football, no parent wants a King boy dating their daughter.
“Is this thing on?” Ms. O’Donnell says into the microphone. “The time has come to crown Ryder High’s new homecoming king and queen.” She dramatically displays a white envelope, then slides her finger under the sealed flap.
My pulse revs and surges in my veins when she clears her throat, then explodes into overdrive when she announces, “Tiger Lyons and Cash King.”
My teammates hoot and holler behind me. They don’t care about this shit, but Brad Watson was one of the nominees, and we celebrate anytime he gets knocked down a peg or two.
I start to make my way to the stage but stop in my tracks. Hoo-lee shit. I momentarily forget where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve never seen Tiger look so beautiful. And I should know. I look at her a lot. We have nearly every class together, and because my last name is King and hers is Lyons, we usually sit close to one another.
Six weeks ago, she and I got paired up to work on our science project. I’ve had more than a month of hanging out with her after school, of getting to see how freakin’ smart and funny she is. More than a month to lose my absolute shit over this girl.
Her long curly hair is piled on top of her head, exposing the delicious curve where her neck and shoulder meet. My mouth goes completely dry when I see what she’s wearing. The dress is sewn onto her. She looks like a princess, and my heart takes a nosedive.
Why am I here? There’s no way we can ever be together, but that doesn’t
make me want it any less.
My teammate Donny Lewis shoves me and knocks me out of my stupor. “Cash, get your ass up there.”
I pull on my cockiest smile, remind myself who I am on the football field—because that’s where I’m worth something—and make my way to the stage. The student body president loops sashes over our heads with our new titles written on them. Then she places a couple of plastic gold crowns on our heads, all to a cheering crowd.
Ms. O’Donnell makes a parting motion with her hands, and everyone steps off the dance floor. “Now the king and queen will have their homecoming dance together.”
I offer Tiger my arm and escort her down the stairs at the side of the stage. “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain begins to play, and I take her hand in mine and slip my arm around her waist. Her free hand goes behind my neck.
“Ready, Kitty Cat?”
She gives me the cutest scowl. “Why do you call me that?”
I can’t help the smirk that stretches my lips. “It’s the perfect nickname. I can’t believe no one else calls you that.” And I’m glad they don’t. It’s always been something special between us, whether she knows it or not.
Her lips pucker in an effort not to smile. She quickly loses the battle. “I can thank my great-great grandfather for the weird family name.”
I know this, because I’m a student of all things Tiger Lyons. “I like your name. It’s perfect for you. I just like my name for you better.” I wink, thinking she’ll laugh, but she stares into my eyes like she’s sifting through my words to find the lie.
I guess she sees what she wants because she relaxes, and we begin to move.
I’M HOLDING TIGER LYONS IN MY ARMS.
And it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She smells like spiced cinnamon and feels like a dream. Like I always knew she would.
“You’re pretty good at this.” The warm smile she gives me is all I’m living for.
“I asked my mom to teach me to dance when I was a freshman. I read somewhere it could improve my footwork on the football field.”
“I’d say it worked.”
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
Her laughter burrows under my skin and becomes a part of my DNA. I have got it bad for this girl. Unfortunately, our time together won’t go past the end of this song.
Disappointment, insecurity, and a loathing for what my name represents rips at the fiber of who I am. I’ve never wanted to be anyone else, especially since I started playing football, but I’d happily change places with that douchebag Brad just to spend one evening with her. Speaking of which … “Where’s Brad?”
It’s her turn to shrug. “I don’t know. We broke up two days ago.”
What?
We broke up. I’ve been waiting forever for that to become a reality. How did I not know this? “Oh, sorry to hear that.” It’s not true. I’m freakin’ ecstatic.
Her head cocks to the side, making her golden curls bounce. “Truth or Dare?”
It’s a game I started playing with her during our science project to get her to open up to me. I’m pretty sure she learned as many of my secrets as I did hers.
“Truth or Dare, Cash?”
“Oh, um, truth.”
Her teeth flash when her lips split into a gigantic smile. “Are you really sorry I broke up with Brad?”
I pull the hand I’m holding to my chest so that it’s nestled close to my heart. “Not even a little bit.”
Her lips disappear between her teeth, and she ducks her head. When she raises her gaze to mine, the prettiest pink flush blooms up her neck and over her cheeks. I want to chase it with my lips, my hands, my tongue.
When she closes the distance between us, and begins to play with the hair at the back of my neck, every thought evaporates from my brain.
“Dancing with you feels exactly how I fantasized it would.” She drops her gaze and is speaking to my top button.
“You’ve fantasized about me, Kitty Cat?” The words are dry as kindling coming from my parched mouth.
Her shoulders hitch up, then drop down, and she can barely meet my eyes. “Maybe a little.” The innocence in her voice causes my heart to knock against my ribs.
“I might’ve fantasized about you a little too.” I say it before I can call it back. But when I see the interest in her gaze, I’m glad I told the truth.
We’re alone on the dance floor, completely absorbed with one another, and on full display for the whole student body. I know our every move will be discussed, dissected, and repeated all over school, hell, all over the whole damn town. Maybe I should care, but I don’t. Because with every note of the song and every sway of our bodies, the definition of who I am changes because of what I see reflected back to me from her sapphire gaze.
I’m someone she could be with.
I’m the guy who will treat her the way she deserves to be treated.
I’m worthy of her.
The song ends, and we don’t break apart.
She stays in my arms, and I’ve never been as happy as I am in this moment. “I don’t think I can let go of you.” It’s only a breath of sound. I’m not capable of more with her this close to me.
One side of her mouth kicks up into a challenging grin. “Then don’t.”
I doubt she understands the fire she’s playing with right now. How could she? I barely understand what’s happening between us. But it’s time to find out. “Truth or Dare, Tiger?”
“Truth.” She whispers the word even though there’s no one close enough to hear.
I grip the back of her dress and pull her closer. “Could you ever date someone like me?”
But as soon as my fingers curl into the fabric of her formal and I utter the words, her eyes go a little wild, and a gasp slips from her lips.
“Tiger?”
The color slowly slips from her face. Her perfectly manicured hands push against my shoulders, trying to get away from me.
I release her immediately. Shit, I shouldn’t have asked that question. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go.”
My head’s spinning at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What?”
Tears swim against her lower lids, and her movements are frantic and uncoordinated. Clearly my question has freaked her out.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.
Her gaze lands on my face but only for a second. That’s long enough to see her panicked expression and it breaks something inside me. Before I can say anything else, she gathers her skirt in her hands and runs like the gym’s on fire.
Her message couldn’t be clearer.
She wouldn’t be caught dead dating someone like me.
I’m left alone, confused as hell, and looking like the lovesick idiot I am in front of the whole student body of Ryder High. Humiliating. The pain is worse than any hit I’ve ever received on the football field.
Someone slaps me on the shoulder and says, “Dude, she ghosted you.” I don’t know who said it because my team has gathered around me. They’re doing their job and protecting their quarterback.
“What’s her problem?” my buddy Donny Lewis asks.
I glance around at the faces of my friends, my teammates, the guys who most look up to me, and lie my ass off. The malicious untruth slides off my tongue like greased goose shit and tastes just as bad. It’s ugly, but what am I supposed to do, tell them the truth? No way in hell.
I’m sure I’ll regret it in the morning, but all I care about now is saving what’s left of my battered teenage pride.
One
Cash
I downshift the Bugatti as I enter the city limits of Ryder, Texas. The information sign on the side of the road indicates my small North Texas hometown has experienced a population explosion, from the 3,500 people who lived here when I was growing up to 8,500 current residents.
But it’s not the population marker that has me pulling to the side of the road. It’s the black and gold
sign behind it.
Ryder, Texas
Home of the Fighting Lions
Birthplace of Cash “The Bullet” King
Four-Time All-American, Nine-Time Pro Bowl Quarterback, and Super Bowl MVP
I stare at the words, and the low-level panic I’ve lived with for the last couple of months crawls up my vertebrae and spreads through my chest. The heavy exhalations of my too-fast breathing are the only sound in the car. I reach up and wipe my sweaty brow with my right hand and pain cuts into my shoulder. “Son of a bitch, that hurts.”
It shouldn’t still be this painful. It should be better by now. I close my eyes and breathe through the discomfort. It eventually subsides, but it’s not a gentle easing of agony like a rolling sea after a storm. No, it rips and pulls on tendons and muscles like the waters of a retreating tidal wave, leaving a path of destruction. Like my career if I’m not able to rehab this bum shoulder back to NFL standards.
But I will.
I’ve overcome every other injury I’ve had to get back to playing football. There’ve been too many to count, and each one has sucked a little more joy from the game. Before I can spiral too far down the black hole of my endless ailments, a gigantic billboard behind the one touting my accomplishments catches my eye.
Homecoming King Page 1
