by Remi Grey
Interception
REMI GREY
Copyright © 2019 Remi Grey – All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Cover Created By Embrace the Pace Designs
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
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About the Book
A Sweet and Steamy Sports Romance
Jenna:
It was time to make a change. I couldn’t stay in a job where I was filled with dread, the second I walked through the door anymore.
I never thought that change would come from a simple flyer asking for a nanny for a 7-year-old girl.
After being out of the nanny game for several years, I had no idea what to expect. But, never in a million years did I dream that this nannying job would have me walking into the home of an NFL superstar quarterback.
Ian:
I did the hardest thing, imaginable. I finally admitted that I needed help.
After letting my sister Tarryn take the reins on this whole nannying ordeal, I begrudgingly trusted that she was helping me do the right thing for my princess Lily.
Why did Tarryn have to hire the one girl I couldn’t take my eyes off of? The one I knew who would be trouble for me the second she walked into the interview, soaking wet from an afternoon thunderstorm.
This couldn’t possibly end well.
Interception is a sweet and steamy romance between a woman trying to do the right thing for a family she barely knows and an NFL quarterback who is still reeling from heartbreak. She stepped right in his life, and it proved that he could love again.
Chapter 1
Ian
"Listen." I took a deep breath, which came out as a hiss between my lips as I sat stuck in traffic. "I will be there in five minutes, please don’t do this.”
“Mr. Jackson." I heard the secretary's exasperated sigh over the phone, followed by the whooshing sound of a stack of papers being ruffled through. I knew she was doing it for emphasis and not practicality. "You've been late every time picking up your daughter this month, and she didn't have her homework done yet again. We here at Hawking Lake Conservatory hold our children to a very professional standard, and those who have famous fathers don't get a free pass.”
“Please.” I was almost to the school as I zipped around a car that was barely going the speed limit in front of me. “You know how busy it gets for me during this time of the year.”
“I do,” the secretary said calmly. “That is why I didn’t push it last year during the beginning of your season. But this year, seeing as how Lily is now in the 2nd grade, I thought you would have gotten on a tighter schedule or brought on help to ensure stability in her life.”
Typically, I would have been annoyed at someone, especially a school secretary, making all of these assumptions about my life. I knew I needed help, though, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I took a deep breath as I pulled into the parking lot a minute later. The secretary’s words were ringing loud and clear through my head as I headed in.
“Daddy!” The second I walked through the door, Lily barreled towards me in a blur of purple and pigtail braids that streamed out behind her. “I was coloring a picture.”
I kissed her on the forehead and set her down, instructing her to go collect her things while I knew the secretary was waiting to scold me. Sure enough, she beckoned me over while another woman who worked in the office grabbed Lily's hand and led her to a separate room.
“Mr. Jackson, please take a seat.”
“Yes.” I sat down and studied her across the wooden desk.
“I’m giving you another week to remediate the situation because Lily is doing so well here. She loves it. We all love her. We don’t just hold our students to the highest standard, we hold their parents as well.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she raised a hand in dismissal, she wasn't done having a go at me.
“Look. We love that the quarterback of the Oricon Twisters lives in our wonderful city and has chosen our school for his little princess. We're just asking that you take this weekend, straighten things out so that we can start Monday again strong."
“We will do that.” I stood up and shook her hand firmly. “Thank you. You don’t know how much Lily loves and needs this school.”
As if right on cue, or maybe because the other lady was eavesdropping, Lily came out to me. Hand-in-hand, we left the school.
“How was school today?” I asked her as we walked to the car.
"It was good. We made our storybooks today."
“Did you? I can’t wait to see it.” I told her as she climbed into her booster seat, already digging through her backpack to find her treasured masterpiece.
"See?" She shoved it into my arms, and I clutched it close to my chest as I slid into the front seat, buckling up.
I studied the drawings. For 7-years-old, she was quite the little drawer and very creative. She didn’t get it from me. I was all strength and hardheadedness. I knew where her soft and creative side came from -- her mother. I quickly tossed the book on the seat underneath a folder.
“I’ll look at it when we get home, okay?”
“Okay, daddy.” She said softly. “It’s of you practicing and then winning your game against the Panthers. My teacher said I did really good.”
“You did. I love it.” I said as I started to drive.
"You didn't even look at it." She was observant, and again I felt that familiar pull in my stomach. The pull that came whenever the briefest mention of Hillary was brought up. I focused on driving, Lily still knew that specific conversations made daddy upset, and it was something I was working on. I wanted to be able to open up to her now that it's been four years, and her memories were starting to fade.
We lived on the outskirts of the city. It was nice. I wasn't trying to show off by buying the largest house in the area. I actually wanted a home where we could have space and privacy. There were always stragglers as we called them -- fans that found out where I lived and made their way over for an autograph. I usually oblige, but being this far out gave us some semblance of a normal life.
Lily jogged up the winding driveway, anxious to see Smokey, her cat that she still loved as much as the day she got her a year ago.
I needed to start dinner, but the second I opened the fridge, I realized that would be a problem. What could I possibly make out of two beers, a box with one slice of pizza left, and milk that expires tomorrow?
“Smokey doesn’t have any food either.” I jumped, not realizing Lily was behind me. I turned and studied her, her green eyes, the ones that mimicked mine exactly
, were narrowed in frustration.
“I’m sorry, honey. We can go to the store.”
“Okay. I still have some homework to do.”
I gave a deep sigh and rested my forehead against the fridge, feeling like a failure. The grocery store was 30 minutes away. I knew Lily needed ample time for her homework, and she still needed a bath.
I felt her small, warm hand on my back, and that made the feeling of failure a million times worse. My sister was gracious enough to move to a city next to ours ever since we lost Hillary. However, even so -- it was still overwhelming. It looks like it would be pizza again for dinner.
At 35-years-old, I was a quarterback, a single dad, and always overwhelmed. We had Vanna who helped prep meals and clean, but unfortunately, I had to let her go a week ago. I still haven't found the words to describe to Lily that she had been stealing from us. I wanted to hold onto that notion that there was still good in this world. Something I needed Lily to believe because ever since Hilary's death, I stopped believing it.
Chapter 2
Jenna
“Two iced caramel lattes with almond milk.” The barista’s voice called out, and I jumped out of my seat excitedly at the prospect of the first caffeine of the day.
I grabbed both drinks and brought them over to Jamie, who was sitting at the table, her face still buried in a magazine featuring some scantily clad model. I slid one towards her, and she finally looked up.
“Oh, thank God.” She took a long sip. “My body was shutting down.”
“You’re so dramatic.” I laughed before remembering that she’s a decade younger than me and at almost 18 -- being dramatic went with the territory.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked her.
“No.” She gave a deep sigh as if I just asked her to run 5 miles or hash out a thesis. “But, you apparently do, so I'll walk you out.”
She begrudgingly followed me out the door of the local coffee shop. It was my treat on the first day of her senior year of high school.
“Hey, wait.” She grabbed my arm. “Look.”
I turned and followed her gaze towards the corkboard full of flyers in the foyer of the shop.
“You think I need a jiu-jitsu class for beginners?” I raised my eyebrows.
“You are stressed all the time.” Jamie laughed as she brushed her curly blonde hair away from her shoulders. “But, no. Look at that one.”
She took a flyer down and handed it to me. It was for a man looking for a full-time nanny for his 7-year-old daughter.
"See." Jamie read over my shoulder. "It's perfect. You hate your job at that stuffy office, and you've been looking for a new kid to dote over."
"I've got you to dote over," I told her before folding the paper in half and sticking it in my pocket...just in case.
“You haven’t been my nanny for 5 years now.”
“And yet, I can’t get rid of you.” I jokingly messed up her hair as I gave her a playful shove towards her car. “Call me this weekend.”
I headed home. I lived only a few blocks away, and since fall was approaching, it was a beautiful day for a walk. I unfolded the flyer and studied it as I walked. Even though I joked that I couldn’t get rid of Jamie, it was the other way around. I really didn’t have anyone else in this city that I felt I connected with.
I had been her nanny watching her grow from a wide-eyed preschooler to a sassy teenager to the mostly-respectable woman she is now. But, it was time to move on. I was living in a studio apartment, working a job as a receptionist at a salon. I found myself calling the number on the flyer before my shoes were even off inside my apartment.
“Hello. This is Tarryn Jackson.” A curt voice cut through the phone.
"Oh, yes, hi.” I was suddenly nervous, not one to usually do a cold call from a flyer. “My name is Jenna Burk. I was calling about the flyer I saw for the nanny position.”
“Great. Thank you for calling. Could you tell me just a little bit about yourself?”
"Well. I'm 28. I live over in Grand View, and I'm currently a receptionist, but I was a nanny for several years before that. My girl, well, she's not really a girl anymore -- almost 18 now so she doesn’t really need me, but I’m still part of her life. I also do a lot of babysitting on the side.”
I cringed slightly at my ramblings -- I hadn't really done any babysitting, but as long as they didn't ask for too detailed of a reference check, I'd be okay.
“That’s wonderful. We’re hosting open interviews tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. I’m Lily’s aunt, so you'll be meeting her, me, and her father."
I grabbed a piece of paper to jot down the location for the interview.
“Also, please bring references. We will see you then. Thank you.”
She hung up abruptly, and I knew I had a lot of things to do. The gym would have to wait. Instead, I took a seat in my favorite spot. Really the only place to sit other than my bed -- a comfortable armchair that was propped in the window that I could see the city below. I needed to focus. My resume was bleak, and I couldn't bank on that to get me this job. I had one previous nanny job and a communications degree – neither of which was impressive.
That was it! I knew that for a nanny job, there would be other applicants who had by far more experience for me. Since it appeared to be some sort of open interview ordeal, whoever this girl is needed to be won over in more than just a resume.
What did I have to offer? I was fairly average, and it didn’t help that I did this thing where I’d get in my own headspace and put myself down. I knew one thing; however, I was good at drawing, which could be deemed impressive to a kid. I took out a sheet of paper and pulled my long unruly hair back into a bun. It was time to get down to business. I had no idea what this girl liked, but I was pretty good at drawing unicorns. Most kids loved that.
It was the one thing I did with the girls who would wait for their moms to get done at the salon. I moved to my bed, laying out my watercolors and paintbrushes and got to work. I drew an intricate unicorn, spreading across a long piece of paper. I lost track of time as I focused on the pinks and purples, blending together in a dazzling unicorn mane.
It felt good to get back into drawing. I didn't even know this girl, and yet, I felt inspired. As if something, for the first time in a long time, was pulling me to draw. I was almost done, and it was already dark outside, and I needed to sleep. The open interview was the first thing tomorrow morning.
As I finished the final touches on the unicorn’s eyes, my own eyes started to droop, and before I knew it, the paintbrush fell from my hand. Watercolors filled my dreams, mixing together, and painting the perfect vision of a small blonde girl, swinging on a swing. She reached her hand towards me until slowly she turned into butterflies that flew in all different directions, before bursting into colors that lit up the sky. I shot straight up and groggily opened my eyes.
It was light out. Shit. I checked the alarm clock, which read 8:15 a.m.
How had I slept so much? I never slept that much, or even through the night for that matter. I couldn't be late. I knew how bad that would look. I threw on a white blouse and a black pair of slacks. I was thankful that I still had some dry shampoo left in a bottle that had rolled under the bathroom sink. A sweep of eyeliner and a quick prayer later, I was out the door.
I popped the GPS address into my phone and was thankful for a 9 a.m. start time, which meant fewer people on the road -- most having already made it into work. I was making good time except for the fact that the rain was picking up now. It was a sloppy gross mess outside my car windows as my wipers tried their hardest to keep up.
And it was just my luck -- the only parking spot I could find was half a block down, and I had no idea what kind of place I was even supposed to be looking for. After several laps -- I found it. It appeared to be some sort of salon – similar to the one I worked at, but by far more upscale and the usual smell of burnt hair was likely gone.
This couldn’t be right. I didn't know what to do; however, I
was soaked to the bone, and I just wanted to go home. When I thought things couldn't get worse, I saw that the watercolor picture clutched under my arm had stained the side of my white blouse.
The universe clearly didn’t want me to have this job. I turned to head back to my car, defeated. There would be more flyers and more opportunities in the future. The door to the salon swung open, and a beautiful tanned redhead leaned against the door frame, studying me.
“Are you Jenna Burk?”
I had two options here -- deny and head back to my car or make the best of a shitty situation. Jobs that seemed perfect for you didn’t come around very often, and maybe I could explain away my appearance. I was having a full-on existential job crisis.
“I’m Jenna." I finally said. I looked down at my blouse, which was sticking to every inch of my body. Thank the heavens I was wearing a bra.