by Ryan, Kaylee
Lucky Bastard.
Chapter 2
Landon
It’s been a long three weeks of camp, but we’re ready. Both rookies and veterans are on point, and I can feel it. This is going to be another great season. The final whistle blows and a collective cheer goes up among us. Mostly because we’re ready to get to our own beds, and for those who are married and have kids, home to their families. Me? I’m looking forward to my bed. It’s pillow-soft, and exactly what I would imagine it feels like sleeping on clouds, and it’s calling my name. But first… “Bateman, wait up,” I call to our new kicking coach, Chance Bateman.
He stops and turns to look for whoever happens to be calling his name. I jog up to him and grin. “Can I ask for a favor?” I’ve been thinking nonstop about Emma, and it kind of pisses me off. No other woman has managed to keep me on the hook this long. Then again, I’ve been tied up at training camp. It might also have a little something to do with the fact that she turned me down. Cold. That’s never happened to me. Not that I can remember. It’s also a little her. She’s a fucking knockout. Long, dark curly locks and green eyes I could get lost in. That’s if I let myself. I can imagine the way they would heat as I pushed inside her. I shift my stance, my cock already on board with my imagination.
“Depends,” he says with a laugh.
“Emma,” I say, throwing her name out there.
“What about her?” he asks, standing taller, squaring his shoulders.
“Can I get her number?”
“Did you ask her for it?”
“Yeah, she shot me down.”
A slow grin tilts his lips. “Did she now?”
“Laugh it up,” I say with a grin of my own. “Come on, Coach,” I urge him.
“Look, Landon, you seem like a good guy. Emma is my wife’s best friend, and a close friend of mine as well. I’m not just going to hand her number over. You want her, you have to work for her.” He stares me down, begging me to argue with him.
“How do you expect me to do that? I don’t even know her last name. The only connection I have to her is you.” I’m well aware I’m starting to sound desperate and, in a way, I am. I can’t break my perfect record. She can’t be the first woman to ever turn me down. That just won’t do.
“Fine, I’ll throw you a bone. Her name is Emma Deaton.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his shorts and the bastard full-on grins at me. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“Guy code and all that. Come on, man. You have to give me more than that.”
“I don’t have to do anything but love my wife and son. Well, and pay taxes.” I give him a pleading look, and he sighs. “Fine, she works with my wife at the South Bay Animal Shelter. That’s all you’re getting so don’t ask for more from me. And”—he points his index finger at me—“don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say, holding up three fingers.
“Right. Like I believe you were ever a scout,” he scoffs.
“Okay, so maybe I was never a boy scout, but I can promise you I’m not some kind of crazy stalker.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, don’t make me regret it, and we’re good.”
It’s not like he’s my actual coach; he’s the kicking coach. He can’t torture me on the field. “Done.” I jog off to the locker room to shower and head to the hotel to get my shit and get home.
“Where’s the fire?” Case Riley, our center, asks as I’m tossing my shit in my bag.
“No fire. Just ready to get home.”
“We hitting up Harvey’s tonight?”
Harvey’s is a small bar close to the stadium. I’m not sure when or how it got started, but he has a side entrance with a key code. The players enter there into a private room. We have our own bartender, music, big-screen TVs, the whole nine yards. If we want to just slip away out of the limelight but still feel normal, Harvey’s is the place to go. The place stays packed, both for its location to the stadium and for the players who decide to venture out into the public area of the bar. Cleat chasers make it their stomping grounds.
“Maybe.” I’m not committing until I talk to her. I might have better options. And if not, tonight, I’m going to stay hidden, no matter how hard Case tries to convince me otherwise. A couple of beers and then my big comfy bed. That is the exciting life of a professional quarterback.
“Eight,” he calls after me. I’ve already got my bag thrown over my shoulder and heading toward the door. I have a phone call to make.
* * *
Walking into my condo, I drop my bags by the door. Three long weeks away, but we’re ready. The team is meshing, and I see good things in our future. I also see my ass sleeping in my ultra-soft bed for the next twenty-four hours. Walking down the hall to my room, I flop back on the bed. Damn, it’s good to be home.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I hold it in the air over my face and pull up my search engine. I type in South Bay Animal Shelter and wait for the results. Clicking on their website, I see Chance’s wife, Aubrey, and Emma smiling back at me. I skim through the main page until I get to the bottom and find a contact us. Clicking that, the number pops up and my phone asks me if I want to call.
Hell yes, I do.
“South Bay Animal Shelter, this is Emma.” Her sweet voice greets me.
“Hey, Emma, it’s Landon.”
“I’m sorry, who?” I can hear the confusion in her voice, which is like a kick in the balls.
“Landon Barker.” I wait, letting my name sink in.
“Number eighteen?” she questions.
“Yeah. How have you been?”
“I’m sorry, were you calling in regard to the shelter?”
“No. I called for you. To talk to you.”
“I’m afraid I’m on company time. Thanks for calling,” she says, and the line goes dead.
I stare at the screen of my phone with the message telling me the call was ended. What the actual fuck was that? She hung up on me. Hitting the green Call Back button, the line rings twice before she picks up.
“South Bay Animal Shelter, this is Emma.”
“Did you really just hang up on me?” I ask.
“Landon.” She sighs, and the sound, although not meant to be sexual, goes straight to my dick.
“Give me two minutes.”
“Fine. What can I do for you, Number Eighteen?”
Normally, a woman calling me by my number is a turnoff. That’s what the cleat chasers do. They just want to bag a player, and hopefully be the one who gets to ride along on their coattails. However, Emma, I don’t get that vibe from her. In fact, she’s irritated as hell right now. “Have dinner with me.” It’s more of a demand than a question.
“No.”
No hesitation in her voice. “One dinner. We can get to know each other.” That’s what women like her want, right? The good girls who you would take home to your mother. They want to be wined and dined. That’s not my MO, but there’s a first time for everything. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had dinner with women, but it’s usually at a charity event or is team sponsored. I’ve not been keen on the actual act of dating. Or the calling and asking thing. I think the last time that happened, it was senior prom. Great, now I’m my seventeen-year-old self.
“Look, Landon, I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I’m just not interested.”
“Emma—” I start, and she cuts me off.
“I really need to go.” With that, the line goes dead.
“Well, shit.” I huff, letting the phone drop to the bed next to me. What’s it going to take to get to this girl? I’m tempted to call her back, but I already know what the outcome is going to be. She’s going to hang up on me for the third time today. No thanks. I need to regroup and decide what my next step is going to be.
My phone rings, and I sit up, slapping the bed looking for it, a strange feeling filling my chest. The feeling that maybe it’s her. I frown when I see Case’s name on the screen.
“What’s up, Riley?�
�
“Harvey’s at eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. See you.” He ends the call. Short and to the point, but really what else is there to say? We just spent three solid weeks together.
Looking at the clock, I have three hours before I have to meet Case. A nap is in order. Kicking off my shoes, I swing around on the bed, resting my head on the pillow, and close my eyes. As soon as I do, she’s who I see. The fire in those green eyes as she shot me down. I can only imagine that same fire is in her eyes right now. I smile at that. She’s not going to know what hit her.
Game on, sweetheart.
Game on.
* * *
At ten minutes till eight, I’m typing in the code to the back entrance of Harvey’s bar. The room is quiet, except for old man Harvey himself wiping down the bar.
“Landon,” he greets.
“Hey, Harv, how’s it going?” Harvey is in his late sixties. He opened this bar over thirty years ago and has gained the trust and respect of the Trojans during that time.
“I’m this side of the sod, so I can’t complain.” He chuckles. “How was training camp?”
“Team’s looking good this year.”
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Harvey knows me well. “Yeah, Case talked me into a drink.”
“How are your folks?” he asks, wiping down the bar that I’m sure doesn’t need to be wiped down at all. A habit he’s picked up over the years.
“Good. Loving retired life.”
“You’re a good son,” he tells me. “I’m sure they appreciate all that you’ve done for them.”
“They sacrificed a lot for me growing up. It’s the least I could do. And keep that on the DL. You’re going to ruin my street cred.” I grin at him.
He throws his head back in laughter. His deep, husky voice from one too many cigarettes is comforting. Familiar. “Like you’ve got street cred,” he counters.
“Damn, cuts like a knife,” I say, holding my hand to my chest as we both laugh.
“What else is going on with you?”
“First night of freedom.” I don’t mention Emma or how she continues to shoot my ass down. I need to wrap my head around it before I start getting any kind of outside influences.
He studies me. “And?”
“And nothing.” I shake my head. Harvey is like a damn therapist, always wanting to pull the juicy details out of you. Only he pries your soul open with booze, and before you know it, you’ve spilled your guts to him in the span of a couple of hours. I’m convinced he has some kind of bartender superpower or some shit.
“There he is.” Harvey looks over my shoulder to where Case saunters into the room.
When I say saunters, it’s more of a glide, which is odd for a man his size. As the team’s center, Case Riley stands at six foot five and weighs in at two hundred and ninety-five pounds. He’s a big man, and the fact he can stroll anywhere is a surprise to everyone. He’s damn good on his feet despite his size.
“You missing me, Barker?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to me at the bar.
“You called me, remember?”
“Three weeks, Barker. Three weeks we’re in lockdown, and you want to chill at home.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe I would want to stay in for the night. If he’d ever slept on my Hastens mattress, he would understand. It’s extravagant but so worth it. As football players, we need to take care of our bodies. That includes a good night’s sleep. A man can’t scrimp on his mattress, not in our profession.
“I missed my bed.” I shrug.
“You and that damn bed.” Case shakes his head. “How’s the crowd?” He motions his head toward the main bar area as Harvey slides a Corona in front of him.
“Busy, but then again, everyone knows that training camp is over. You know how they are. Any chance to catch a glimpse.”
“You’re a good man, Harvey,” Case tells him. “It’s nice to be able to get out of the house, have a beer, and not be swarmed.”
“What?” I turn on my stool to look at him. “You feeling all right, bud?” I ask. Lifting my hand, I place the back of it against his forehead, just like my mom used to do when I was a kid. “No fever.” I smirk as he swats my hand away from his face.
“Fucker,” he mumbles under his breath. “So…” He takes another long pull from his bottle of beer. “What’s the latest?” he asks. I’m not sure if he’s asking me or Harvey, but I choose to think it’s the latter and keep my trap shut about Emma. I really don’t feel like taking his shit tonight. My ego has been hit enough today.
“Same thing, another day.” Harvey chuckles.
“How’s the Mrs.?” I ask. I watch as a slow smile brightens his wrinkled face. It also helps to change the subject, and I hope that keeps Case from noticing I’m a little off tonight.
“She’s mine.” He grins. “Gets prettier every day.”
“How long you been married?” Case asks.
“Forty years,” Harvey and I say at the same time.
“That’s right.” Harvey nods. “Last month.”
I know because he told me and I got them a gift. A weekend away at a local bed and breakfast. Harvey works too much.
“I couldn’t imagine the same pu— uh, woman for that many years.” Case trips over his words, making both Harvey and me laugh. A few more beers and he forgets to sensor his mouth. It’s something we’re used to. Hell, we all do it.
“You will,” Harvey assures him. “One day you will.”
“Nope.” Case finishes off his beer and slides the empty toward Harvey, who quickly replaces it with another.
“What about you, Landon?”
I shrug. “It’s hard to find the real deal when you’re in the spotlight. I’m not against it, but this job is a bitch to deal with for us as players, even harder for spouses and kids. Besides, there is something to say about variety.” I give him an overzealous grin. That’s what I’m supposed to say. That’s the public persona that everyone knows. However, one day I’d like to settle down. I want a wife and kids. I just don’t see it happening for me anytime soon. Maybe after I stop playing. When I’m out of the limelight, the vultures will move onto my replacement. Maybe then I can find the real deal. Someone who wants me, not my title or my bank account.
Emma flashes in my mind with her sparkling green eyes. She is definitely the type of girl you would choose for your forever. I barely know her, and that’s as obvious as the sky is blue. I don’t want her to change her last name for me, though, just a date will do.
One date.
I know, wishful thinking.
We spend the next hour talking about more random stuff. The season, Case’s hate for laundry, and somehow, the conversation turns back to my bed. As bad as I didn’t want to come out, I’m glad I did. It’s good to just hang out and shoot the shit. Next time we’ll invite the guys, but I knew this night would go way beyond low-key if we did that. I make it home in twenty minutes. It’s amazing how little traffic there is when there’s not a game. After stripping out of my clothes, I slide under the sheets. With the super softness of my bed for the first time in weeks, other than my earlier nap, it doesn’t take long for sleep to claim me.
Chapter 3
Emma
I barely slept last night. I blame Number Eighteen, and his blue eyes. I have no idea what Landon Barker is up to. What I do know is that whatever it may be, it doesn’t involve me no matter how persistent he is. Although it’s admittedly thrilling to have his attention, it’s for the wrong reasons. It’s all about the chase, one I won’t be surrendering to anytime soon.
“Good morning,” Aubrey says, joining me in our shared office space. She’s the manager and I’m the assistant manager of the South Bay Animal Shelter. That’s how we met, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Hey.” I smile and go back to the volunteer schedule I’ve been working on.
“Any phone calls today?” she asks with a grin.
“Ugh,” I groan, sitting back in my chair. “No. I’m hoping he got the hint.”
“You know, Chance said he asked him for your number yesterday before they all went home.”
This has me sitting up a little straighter. “Please tell me he didn’t give it to him.”
“Nope, but he did tell him your last name and where you worked.”
“Well, that solves that mystery.” Yesterday we both wracked our brains as to how he figured it out. I should have known it was Chance. I was too flustered to even consider him.
“He told him if he wanted your number, he had to work for it.”
“Great. That’s all I need is Chance encouraging him. Tell him, next time he can tell Landon I’m not interested.”
“He says he’s staying out of it from now on. He gave him what he needed to find you. The rest is up to him.”
“He’ll get bored soon. I mean, he’s Landon Barker after all. He can have any woman he wants, and he’s not going to wait around on me.”
“You never know. You could be the one to change him.” Aubrey shrugs like the words that just came out of her mouth are not the most unrealistic she’s ever spoken.
“I don’t want to change him. That never works. He is who he is, and that’s not a bad thing. He’s just not for me.”
“How do you know who he is?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Fine. I don’t know him. I have a perception of him, and it’s not one I feel as though works well with who I am. How’s that?”
