I walk into the closet and pull a T-shirt on, trying to shake off an unfamiliar feeling. Nerves? Not possible. I don’t get nervous for games. I get hyped. Why do I feel nervous today? I don’t like it.
“Hey, I’m ready whenever,” Frankie shouts from the hallway outside my room. “I’m so excited for today. I can’t believe you got my whole family sideline seats. You’re the best! And you get to meet them!” She squeals.
Oh. I guess that’s why I’m nervous.
“Of course.” I chuckle and walk out of the bedroom and try not to let my jaw physically drop at the sight in front of me.
Frankie is wearing tiny little jean shorts, white sneakers, and a Riders jersey tied in a knot so her deliciously toned stomach is just peeking out underneath it.
She notices my gaze glide over her bare legs and the adorable white Nikes.
“Oh yeah, not my usual NFL-wife-to-be attire. But since I’m getting a day off from the bougie box seats and actually going to be out by the field, I figured I’d go back to my usual peasant game-day clothes.”
I laugh. “Well, you look…” I narrow my eyes. “Wait a second, is that my jersey?”
Frankie whips around and bounces down the hall, completely dodging the question. “Let’s go, 15! Can’t have you wasting precious warm-up minutes asking me silly questions.”
I shake my head and follow the perfect heart-shaped denim ass down the hall and into the garage. “You’re a filthy little jersey thief.”
Frankie looks over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at me. She can take the whole damn closet, if she wants to.
We laugh and talk the whole way there, and Frankie is even starting to memorize some of the rap lyrics on my hype playlist, which is both cute and impressive.
I pull into the stadium garage, feeling more amped up for this game than any other this season. I have to redeem myself from my garbage playing in the last home game when I was all fucked up about my dad. I feel a million times better today. Minus the blue balls.
Frankie hops out of the car and wraps her arms around me, bouncing on her toes as I hold her tight in a hug. A camera flashes from the distance, and she plants a sweet kiss right onto my lips. My mind instantly races back to my bedroom yesterday morning, when I knew her kisses weren’t fake. But this one is. Is it?
She inches her lips next to my ear and whispers, “Watch the safety. He’ll get on you at the last second.”
I pull my head away and eye her curiously. Considering there’s a reasonable chance this girl knows more about my sport than I do, I nod and think about her advice.
I turn to walk toward the locker room, and Frankie swiftly gives my ass a slap.
“Hey!” I turn around and catch her gaze.
She gasps sarcastically. “Whoopsies.”
I shake my head and walk away, savoring the strawberry sunshine she left on my lips.
“My man! You ready to catch the ball today?” Chase pats my shoulder and teases me as soon as I get in the locker room.
“You ready to throw a decent pass?” I lightly punch his arm and sit on a bench.
AJ plops down next to me, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Hey, bro. I know last week’s game was a tough one for you because of your dad. And I also know you don’t want to talk about it or tell any of the other guys what was going on.”
I shrug and wave my hand in the air. “Thanks, man. But seriously, it was just a bad day. I’m really amped up for this game. We’re gonna destroy them.”
AJ laughs. “There you go, Sterling.”
“I’m meeting Frankie’s family today.” I stand up and enter the combination to my locker. “Three older brothers.”
AJ furrows his brow. “What, are you nervous?”
I swing open the locker door and turn to him. “I don’t know. Kinda.”
“Dude, why?” He leans close and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Who cares if her family likes you or not? It’s not like you’re actually even with Frankie.”
A tinge of sadness hits my gut as the truth of his statement sets in.
AJ narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. “You’re not actually with her…right? You’re not catching feels, are you?” He draws his words out slowly.
I shake my head and wave off his underlying accusation. “No. Hell no.” I point a finger at my face. “You really think I would be fucking committed? Come on, dude. It’s a media gig. That’s all it’s ever been.”
AJ steps back and holds his hands in the air, laughing. “All right there, Mr. Defensive. She’s doing something to you, though. Are you guys fucking?”
I whip my towel in his direction. “Go get ready for this game, asshole.”
We spend the next hour talking game strategy and warming up. I try to force myself to focus on plays and keep my head completely immersed in football. But I keep thinking about…
Her.
In that fucking jersey. My jersey. Her advice to me about watching the safety. The way she kissed me when we got out of the car. The way she gasped and moaned my name when I went down on her. The way this whole thing is fake and going to end in a few months and maybe I don’t want it to.
Shit.
NINETEEN — Leo
My heart pounds hard in my chest with thirty seconds left in the fourth quarter. Even though we’ve all been playing our asses off, we’re down by six. The Falcons are tough as hell. I’ve caught a couple of tricky passes and had some great runs, and the determination to win this game is coursing through my veins.
We all know that our only shot at winning is a complete Hail Mary miracle pass. We’re nowhere near kicking distance. We’re lining up on offense, and I eye Chase before he gets to his position. I know the play called, but…
Throw me the fucking ball, Kennedy.
I grit my teeth and pray to God he understood my telepathic demand. The ball is snapped, and I can feel the stadium and crowd go silent. Adrenaline rushes through me as Chase’s hand smacks the football.
I smell the grass, feeling the high in my head and the burn in my lungs as I realize he read my mind, changed the play and he’s going long. To me. After I follow a complex route to find an opening for a one-in-a-million pass, the world seems to be in slow motion. The field, the ball, the defenders, the end zone. That’s all there is. Until…
She pops into my head as I’m running down the field, and in one split second I curse myself for thinking of the most blatantly distracting thing during such a critical moment in a game. But I can hear her voice in my mind. Her sweet, musical, sexy voice.
Watch the safety. I mumble Frankie’s orders under my breath as I get farther down the field. I glance over my shoulder, and holy fucking shit, she was right.
Catching him just in time, I fake direction, forcing him to dart out of my way, and I find a wide-open slot just as Chase hurls a perfect spiral directly at me. I see the ball flying toward my body, and once again, the world stops. My gut is filled with competition and drive, and I know for a damn fact I’m catching this ball.
I’m catching this ball because I need to win this game. I’m catching this ball because Frankie is sitting right there on the sidelines, and I can’t wait for her to jump up and wrap her arms around me after I score this touchdown.
Just past the thirty-five yard line, I slow my pace and the ball gently falls right into my hands. Thank God. My whole body is numb from the rush of the play, my legs sprinting as fast as they can, and the end zone is getting closer and closer.
I bite hard onto my mouth guard and clutch the ball under my arm. All I can think about is the way her eyes are going to light up when she sees me after this touchdown. How happy she’s going to be. How I can’t wait to tell her that her advice about the safety completely won us the game.
The colored grass of the end zone is now just a few yards away as I sprint as fast as I can and cross the line. I drown in the familiar blurry eruption of teammates jostling me and cheers from the crowd. I want to find Frankie so badly.
> I hear a buzzer sound, and people are beginning to rush onto the field. The air is filled with hollers and camera flashes and the high of that win. I can’t stop scanning the crowd and pushing past people, trying to find her. Where is she?
“Leo! Leo Sterling.” The high-pitched, aggressive, and all-too-familiar voice of Kayla King shouts from behind me.
I turn over my shoulder to see the ESPN sideline reporter hustling toward me with a microphone. All right, I’ll throw her a bone. I mean, I did just win the game.
“Leo.” She finally reaches me, slightly out of breath. “Congratulations on a monster touchdown, an absolute miracle Hail Mary pass. How are you feeling right now?” She shoves the mic in my face.
I smile and lean in. “Uh, yeah…”
As I’m searching for something to say that will make me seem a tiny bit humble but still show I’m fully aware that I’m the shit, I lock eyes with Frankie. She is glowing. I suddenly couldn’t care less about this interview.
“Sorry, Kayla.” I gently push the mic away and hear her stammering an explanation behind me as I rush to the woman who just won me that game.
“Hey you.” She stands still, her shiny chocolaty hair all twisted up in a messy knot.
“Hey, kiddo.” I scoop her up into my arms, and she laughs and wraps her legs around me.
“I guess you had an okay game.” Frankie clings tightly to me, pressing her forehead into mine and tickling my nose with hers. Her eyes are sparkly, everything about her fitting with me flawlessly.
I prop her hips higher up around me and lace one hand through her hair. “Eh, it was all right.”
She giggles, and I savor the feeling of her chest bubbling against me. “I mean, I’ve seen better.”
“Shut up,” I say as I press my lips against hers.
She squeezes her legs around me and holds her hands tight on the back of my neck.
I cup her cheek with my palm, angling her lips deeper against mine. Suddenly, I realize that she is all there is in this moment. Her tiny little self with that silly sarcasm and unbelievably green eyes. I want her at every game. I want to fall into her arms when I win and when I lose.
Although it does feel remarkably better when I score the game-winning goal.
“There you are. Leo!” Goddamn Kayla King.
I reluctantly lower Frankie’s feet to the ground and smile at the reporter and the cameramen scurrying up behind her.
She turns to the lens. “I’m here with the star of the day, Riders wide receiver Leo Sterling, and his gorgeous fiancée. Leo, talk to me about that game.”
I keep an arm wrapped around Frankie’s shoulders, holding her close. “It was a hell of a win. I’m glad I could snag it for us at the end.”
Kayla pulls the mic back and turns toward the camera once again. “And so humble, folks. Leo, what was your secret in making that amazing run in the final seconds?”
I take a breath and lean close to the microphone, looking at the camera. I feel Frankie pull away slightly. She nods at me and smiles, silently telling me to enjoy the spotlight, as I always have.
“Well, Kayla.” I sift through potential answers in my head. I just did it for the team, ya know? I caught the ball and made the field my bitch. I played some damn good football. All completely typical Leo Sterling responses.
I look at the woman next to me. Beaming at me. “I just wanted to make her proud,” I say into the camera without another thought, pulling Frankie tight into my embrace and kissing the side of her head.
“Ladies and gentlemen, love is in the air here at the South Florida Riders stadium,” Kayla coos, holding her hand to her heart dramatically.
She and the other reporters and staff hustle away to go hunt down Chase, and Frankie looks up at me.
“You are so full of shit, Sterling,” she says through a laugh and shakes her head. “I’m pretty impressed, though. I didn’t even know you could pretend to be that romantic.”
I slide my hands along her waistline and pull her little body as close as I can. “I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?”
She rises up onto her toes and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her height and engulfing me in another kiss.
Without thinking, I hear words slip out of my mouth, no louder than a whisper. “These are my favorite moments. Right now, with you.”
A note of surprise glistens in her eyes. “Leo, the fanciest mic in the world couldn’t pick us up right now.” She smiles and looks down at her white sneakers. “You don’t have to keep up the act.”
I gently hold her delicate chin in my hands and angle her face toward mine. “I know.”
TWENTY — Frankie
I’m not entirely sure how my parents managed to talk my fake fiancé—who they know is fake—to come all the way up to West Palm after the game for dinner at the beach house, but they did. Leo didn’t seem terribly hesitant, though, not like I expected him to be.
I sit in the passenger’s seat of his Mercedes, savoring and swimming in the smell of freshly showered post-game Leo. I think about how I want to get close enough to him to wear that scent.
“I can’t believe you’d rather drive two hours and have dinner with my family than go celebrate at the Atlantic with all the guys,” I muse, peering out the window at the setting sun.
Leo shrugs and runs a hand through his still slightly damp hair. “I’ve had my fair share of drunk celebration nights at the Atlantic, trust me. Honestly, a family dinner sounds really…nice.”
“Well…” I chuckle and lean back in my seat. “My family is definitely special. Hope you’re not too intimidated.” I nudge his arm playfully and let my fingertips linger on the rock that is his bicep.
“Babe, did you see that touchdown? Godzilla couldn’t intimidate me right now.”
I give him an exaggerated eye roll. “There’s my favorite ego.” I peek at my phone, vibrating like crazy with texts in our family group chat.
Drew: So are we supposed to, like, pretend we think you’re engaged to this guy?
Eric: No, moron. I’m sure Frankie told him we know it’s fake.
Mom: Stop arguing, boys. We’re just going to have a nice dinner together.
Luke: It’s kind of a weird thing to just not address…your fake fiancé.
Drew: I’m definitely gonna give him some shit for having to hire a girl to play his fiancée. Frankie, can I give him shit?
Luke: Who knows if she’s even playing anymore? Did you guys see the way she was looking at him that whole game? It’s obvious she’s got a massive crush on him.
Drew: Did you see those football pants, Luke? I was looking at him, too.
Eric: Shut up, idiots, I’m trying to drive.
Mom: The roast is in the oven. Can everyone please put down the phones and get here in one piece?
“Everything okay?” Leo nods toward the incessantly buzzing phone in my lap.
“Yeah, it’s just my brothers. They feel weird because they know we’re not really engaged, but they’re not sure how they should act about it.”
He raises his eyebrows. “It is kind of an unusual situation.”
I wave my hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. Once the booze starts flowing and the football talk comes out, no one will even remember that you’re there because we’re pretending to be in love, not just to hang out with my brothers.”
I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. Why would I say the word love? Thankfully, Leo seems unfazed.
We pull up to the beach house, and for the first time, I see it through the eyes of the millionaire sitting next to me. It’s not huge. It actually looks kind of tiny. The shutters are slightly dilapidated, and it could definitely use a fresh coat of paint.
We sit silently in the car for a moment. Leo puts a calming hand on my thigh.
“This place looks awesome. I can’t wait to meet the people who made your weird-ass self.” Leo gives my leg a squeeze, sending butterflies soaring through my chest.
>
I jab him in the side as we get out of the Mercedes.
“Frankie, honey.” My mom bounces down the driveway in yet another Steelers apron, grabbing my face and kissing both cheeks. “And, Leo, oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. You had quite the game today.” She pulls him in for a tight hug. Looking over Leo’s shoulder, my mom makes eye contact with me and mouths, Biceps! I refuse to acknowledge her, but can’t hide my smile.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Monroe. And hey, thanks. I can’t take full credit. I have an amazing team.” Leo tosses me a wink as we follow my mom up the gravel driveway.
She lets us into the house, and I feel my slightly fraying nerves begin to ease. The sliding doors are already open, and the football is being thrown around on the back deck and beach.
“Leo Sterling, as I live and breathe.” My dad draws out the words slowly and pushes his glasses onto his head.
“It’s a pleasure.” Leo holds out his arm and shakes my father’s hand.
I watch them connect, noticing the sincerity in Leo’s expression as their eyes met. For one quick beat, time is frozen as I watch the cocky, endearing football player I’ve been living with and being with and almost had sex with shake hands with the man I respect most in the entire world.
“Boys, get in here!” Mom shouts out to the deck. “Come and meet Frankie’s…” She looks at me quizzically. “Uh, friend.”
Luke, Eric, and Drew pile into the living room, with Olivia clinging to Luke’s side. They all introduce themselves to Leo, and I assure him that he shouldn’t stress about knowing who’s who.
“Luke’s the whipped one,” Drew says, taking a big swig of Yuengling. “No offense, Liv.” He gestures toward Olivia.
The oh-so-happy couple just laugh it off.
“It’s not really being whipped if you’ve found the right person,” Luke asserts, without breaking eye contact with his glowing, pregnant wife.
Wild Ride (South Florida Riders Book 1) Page 11