LuckyBastard: A Cocky Hero World Novel

by Ryan, Kaylee

  Not willing to miss an opportunity to be near her, I grab the chair and roll it to her side of the desk. We both dig into our lunch, letting the quiet surround us. This quiet isn’t comfortable. It’s full of everything that goes unspoken between us. I need to tell her that I’m feeling things, things I’ve never felt.

  “I appreciate you looking out for me. You were being a good friend. I can appreciate that. Just… pipe down on the ‘my girl’ stuff,” she says, offering me a kind smile.

  Friend-zoned.

  “Sure,” I say, swallowing my lunch that now feels like cardboard in the throat. I guess if I can’t commit to how I’m feeling, being friends with her is the next best thing. I can be near her, because a day not witnessing her smile or hearing her laugh is a day filled with gloom. She’s magnetic.

  “What can I do?” I ask as we clean up our empty wrappers.

  “Nothing. We’ve got a good team here today. Thank you though.”

  I nod. “Dinner tonight?” I know damn well she’s going to turn me down.

  “Landon—” She shakes her head with a grin.

  “Hey.” I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “Just asking a friend to have some dinner, share a meal, shoot the shit.”

  “Uh-huh.” She’s all-out grinning now and I love every second of it.

  “I guess I’m gonna go.” While I say the words, I make no move to pull my ass out of this chair.

  “Thanks for lunch. I’d offer to repay you, but I know better.” She points to my face. “That look tells me I’m right.”

  “You’re welcome, Em.” I force myself to stand and am surprised when she does as well.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Any new adoptions?” I ask as we walk toward the front door.

  “Not this week. They come in spurts. We’re actually due for another adoption fair. Aubrey and I need to get on that,” she says absentmindedly.

  We reach the door and I turn to face her. “I’ll see you soon?”

  “Yeah, see ya soon,” she agrees and waves.

  I want to hug her or kiss her or beg her to let me stay, but do none of them. Instead, I let my lead-filled feet carry me to my SUV.

  “Where are you headed?” Chance asks, climbing out of his SUV as I reach mine.

  “Home.”

  “I thought you brought lunch?” he asks, opening the back door and lifting his son out of his seat. “Can you say hi to Landon?” he asks his son.

  The little boy waves, resting his head on his dad’s shoulder. “Yeah, I did. Em and I just ate.”

  “And you’re leaving?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “She said she doesn’t need any help.”

  “And you took her word for it?”

  “I made a scene, got all pissy when I walked in on a situation that wasn’t what it looked like with a volunteer. I’m sure your wife will retell the story.”

  “What’s your version?” he asks.

  “Mommy!” CJ yells, holding his arms out.

  “Hey, sweet boy,” Aubrey greets us. “Cocky.” She grins, going on tiptoes to press her lips to Chance’s.

  “Princess,” he whispers, and even I can hear the love in his tone.

  “See you inside,” she tells him, then turns to look at me. “You got our girl all flustered.”

  “Yeah.” I run my hands through my hair, not sure how much Emma has told her.

  “Good. She needs someone to keep her on her toes. You’re a lucky bastard that you have her attention.” She grins like she just won the lottery and I have no idea what that’s all about.

  She doesn’t give me the chance to comment before she’s strolling off toward the building, her son telling her all about daycare this morning.

  “Well?” Chance asks once his wife and son have finally disappeared from view.

  “I guess they slipped on some spilled water. He was lying over the top of her, and I walked in just as it happened. He helped her up, had his fucking hands all over her. He recognized me and asked for an autograph.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  I wince. “I might have told him to get his hands off my girl and I would oblige him.”

  “Ouch. I know Emma, and I’m sure that didn’t go over well.”

  “She was pissed, but I apologized and now she seems fine.”

  “And?”

  “Is that normal? She just accepted the apology without another thought. I was expecting to have to grovel or something.”

  He laughs. “Maybe from a woman who wants to be the center of your attention. Not from a woman like Emma. She’s one of the good ones. She’s not unreasonable. You gave her a sincere apology and she accepted. Move on.”

  “She friend-zoned me.”

  He nods. “I’m guessing that wasn’t your intention?”

  “Fuck, I have no idea.”

  “You better figure it out.” He points to where Emma stands with Tony, the guy who was all over her on the floor. Her head’s tilted back as a laugh flows from her full, beautiful lips. My fists ball at my sides.

  I want to go to them, to wrap my arms around her and show him that she’s off-limits, but she’s not. I force myself to climb into my SUV with a wave to Chance and drive away. He’s wearing an amused smile as he watches me, and I ignore him.

  What is this woman doing to me?

  * * *

  It’s just after seven and I’ve already run five miles on my treadmill and ordered takeout. It was a Chinese food kind of night. Now here I am pacing the living room floor. I eye my keys on the table and I’m tempted to drive to her house to see her. That’s pushy even for me, and besides, what am I going to say? I can’t give you what you want, what you deserve, but I don’t want anyone else to either?

  My phone rings and I fumble to grab it from the couch cushion, hoping it’s her, but I should have known better. In a way, it’s the next best thing. “Hey, Mom,” I answer.

  “Landon, how are you? It’s been too long since we’ve talked.”

  “I know.” Guilt washes over me. “Sorry, just been busy getting back into the groove of things this season.”

  “How’s the team looking?” Dad asks. They have me on speaker and I smile. These two are the epitome of two peas in a pod.

  “Great. The rookies are meshing well with the veterans, and I see good things in our future for the season.”

  “How about you give me your non-PR prompted speech?” Dad chuckles.

  “This time it’s the truth. Practices have been on point and I think we can take it to the Super Bowl this year.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Landon, don’t make me come there,” she warns in her mom's voice. I never could get anything past her.

  “I met someone. At least, I think I did.”

  “What do you mean you think you did?” Dad asks.

  “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She’s one of those women who deserves everything.”

  “Oh, so she’s not a cleat chaser?” Mom asks.

  “No.” I laugh. “She’s not a cleat chaser.”

  “Good. Where did you meet her?”

  “Through the new kicking coach. She’s best friends with his wife.” I go on to tell them about her wearing a Mavericks shirt to training camp.

  “I like her already. When do we get to meet her?”

  “Slow your roll, momma bear,” I tease. “I don’t know that you ever will.”

  “Why on earth not?” she asks.

  “She’s friend-zoned me.”

  “Of course, she did,” Mom agrees, like it’s the most reasonable thing she’s heard in her life.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, Landon, you’re my son and I love you more than anything, but I’ve seen you in action. Everything comes easy to you, even women. This one, I assume, isn’t, and you don’t know how to deal with that. You keep yourself closed off. I understand how hard it must be to know if someone is being
genuine with your career, but, honey, how are you going to know unless you try?”

  “I have tried. She keeps shooting me down.”

  “Son,” Dad chimes in, “I think what your mother is trying to say is that you need to get to know her. For all the fear that you have of her taking you for a ride, or your bank account being her motivation, think about it from this girl’s perspective. From what you’ve told us, she’s not someone who has ever been in the spotlight. Having your attention has to be surreal to her.”

  “Exactly. You have to take your time, nurture the relationship. She might want to be friends now, but I can bet that’s her way of protecting herself.”

  “She doesn’t need protection from me,” I scoff.

  “We know that,” Mom says soothingly. “But does she? Think about it, Landon. You’re a professional athlete. Seen in the tabloids with a new woman on your arm every event, and you’re focusing your attention on her. I can only imagine she thinks this is a game to you.”

  “What?”

  “Landon, do you like this girl?”

  “More than I should,” I grumble, and they both laugh. Traitors.

  “Then nurture the relationship. Be her friend. Show her you’re not the guy to hop from bed to bed. At least you better not be.”

  “Honey,” Dad admonishes Mom. “He’s a grown man.”

  “And I can still take him over my knee. All six foot four inches of him,” she counters.

  “Anyway,” Dad moves on. “Your mother’s right. You have to show her that you’re not that guy. You have to show her that her heart is safe with yours.”

  “What if that’s not what I want?”

  “Then that’s something you’ll be able to figure out as you get to know her. You’re either going to not be able to stop thinking about her, or she’s going to become a friend that you value. Either way, it sounds like she’s a good person and you win.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit, and Mom squeals.

  I groan, knowing I’ve opened a huge can of worms. Mom has been asking me when I’m going to settle down for years, and now that she has the hint that I might be thinking about it, she’s never going to leave me alone about it.

  “Take the time to figure it out, but, son, you can tell her all day long. You have to show her,” Dad advises.

  “Thanks. I need to go. I’ll talk to you all soon.”

  “We’ll be there for the season opener,” Dad assures me.

  “Love you,” I tell them.

  “Love you too,” they say in chorus, and the call goes dead.

  Nurture.

  Show her.

  Quickly I type out a text.

  Me: How was your day?

  Emma: Good. Thank you again for lunch.

  Me: You’re welcome.

  I stare at my phone, not knowing what to say. That’s not like me. I’m never short for conversation, but with Emma, I find myself not so lucky after all. Emma saves me when she sends another text. It’s a picture. Opening it up, I see a picture of the throw from her couch covering her legs.

  Emma: Just relaxing.

  Me: Me too. I have a long practice day tomorrow.

  Emma: How’s the season going?

  I’m taken aback by her question. I’ve never had a woman other than my mother or maybe a mom or wife of one of the guys ask that question.

  Me: I’m positive about this year. The team is looking good.

  Emma: I looked at the schedule. You play the Mavericks week one at home.

  Me: You coming to the game?

  Emma: Always.

  Me: Wait a minute. You’ve seen me play?

  She’s taking too long to reply so I hit Send on her name and it rings twice before she answers. Her laughter rings through the line. “Landon,” she sputters.

  “Em,” I say, trying to be stern but failing. “Have you seen me play?”

  “Of course, I have. I never miss a Mav’s game.”

  “Fucking Mavericks,” I mumble, making her laugh even harder.

  “I’m going to convert you to a Trojans fan yet.”

  “Diehard Mav’s, baby,” she cheers.

  “What did you have for dinner?” I ask her, changing the subject. Just the thought of her cheering for A.J. Holland pisses me off.

  “Meh, nothing too exciting. I had the rest of the chicken casserole. You?”

  “I ordered Chinese.”

  “I love Chinese,” she says over a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

  “Yeah, I ran five miles when I got home. I’m beat too.”

  “Sheesh, no wonder you’re in such good shape.”

  My chest puffs out a little at her compliment. “We have the season opener in a few weeks. Will you be there?”

  “Nah, but I have my tickets for when you play the Mavs.”

  “On me. You can sit with Aubrey. I’m sure she’d love it if you were there with her.” I’m holding my breath, waiting for her to agree. Doesn’t matter that I’m getting her tickets regardless.

  “Let me talk to Aubs. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You won’t be. You’ll be my guest.”

  “I’ll talk to her and let you know,” she says, ignoring my comment.

  “Fine,” I agree as I hear her yawn again. “I’ll let you go. Goodnight, freckles.”

  She chuckles. “Goodnight, Number Eighteen.”

  Finally, I’m able to chill the fuck out and exhaustion catches up with me. After locking up, I plug my phone in by the bed, and climb under the covers.

  Chapter 11

  Emma

  I’m late. Not that kind of late, late for the day. My alarm didn’t go off and now I’m rushing around trying to get ready. To top it off, I’m out of K-cups, which means no coffee. I need coffee. Slipping into my gym shoes, I grab my purse, make sure I have my phone, and rush out the door. Only to turn back to make sure that I locked it.

  Have I mentioned I hate being late?

  Sliding behind the wheel of my Jeep Wrangler, I place my phone in the cup holder, sling my purse on the passenger seat, and pull out of the drive. I’m lucky that my job doesn’t require me to be all snazzed up. Case in point. I have on a pair of leggings, a T-shirt with my work’s logo, and gym shoes. I tied my mass of dark curls on top of my head, and didn’t bother with makeup. I hardly see anyone during the day anyway, just my boss, most of the time her husband, and their son. I have no one to impress.

  Checking the clock on the dash, I calculate that I have just enough time to stop at the Seaside Café for my morning coffee, and because I’m going to be there already, I might as well grab one of their famous cinnamon coffee cake muffins. They are life! If they didn’t go straight to my hips, I’d stop by every morning. Alas, they do, so I stick with indulging about once per month as a treat. This month, I’m splurging twice.

  It’s just a Seaside Café kind of day.

  I wonder if Aubrey wants anything? I hit the phone icon on my steering wheel. “Call Aubrey,” I announce, and dutifully my beloved Jeep dials for me. The way my day has started, I can’t chance taking my eyes off the road.

  “Morning, sunshine.” Her chipper voice blasts throughout the car.

  “Hey, I woke up late.”

  She laughs. “There goes your mood for the day.”

  “Har har, and to think I called to see if you wanted anything from the Seaside Café. I’m out of coffee at home, so I might be a few minutes late.”

  “Definitely stop. We all know how you are without your coffee,” she teases.

  “Harsh,” I say, barely containing my own laughter.

  “Banana nut muffin, please, and I’ve already had two cups of coffee.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I’ll be bouncing off the walls. Besides, I’m trying to cut back on my caffeine, you know, in case we decide to have another baby. Going cold turkey is hell.”

  “What? Are you trying?”

  “Nah, but we’ve talked about it. We want more, so it’s o
nly a matter of time. We’re settled into the new house, so yeah… I wanted to get a head start.”

  “I’m so excited for you. All right, I’m almost there. We’ll talk more when I get to work.”

  “Take your time,” she says before saying goodbye. I hit the button on the steering wheel to end the call as I turn the corner.

  The place is packed as usual for this time of day and I have to park at the end of the block and walk. I’m pressed for time, but my mouth is already watering for that cinnamon coffee cake muffin and coffee. I must have coffee.

  As I push open the door, the smell of baked goods and yummy coffee surrounds me. There are so many different scents, I can’t name a single one. The only way I can describe it is delicious. My stomach grumbles as I take my place in line. All of the small tables are taken except for one, in the back corner of the café. Now, if I was staying to eat, that’s the table I would choose. I’m not antisocial, but I like to people watch, fly under the radar so to speak. A small corner table to devour cinnamon goodness would suit me just fine.

  Speaking of people watching, I can’t help but notice the man standing in front of me. My eyes rake over him in appreciation. Sure, it’s just the backside, but impressive all the same. He’s wearing one of those compression shirts. It’s a royal blue color, and forms quite nicely to his muscles. A pair of black basketball shorts hang from his hips, and I can only imagine he’s one of those with the V—you know, where the shorts or holy hell, even sweatpants hang just right. The thought has me licking my lips, for more than just a cinnamon coffee cake muffin.

  The line moves forward and so do I. My feet move on their own accord as I stare at his ass. What is it they say? So firm you can bounce a quarter off it? Yeah, this guy fits the bill for sure. I take another step forward, only this time the line’s not moving. “Umpf.” My hands fly out and press against his back to keep myself from falling. “Shit.” I immediately remove my hands from his toned muscular back, but I can still feel the heat of his body on my palms. He turns to look at me over his shoulder and I gasp.