To my surprise, the tight end answers almost at the first ring.
“Stacy?” The way my name tumbles so easily from his lips making me shiver. I can hear strange noises around him. It sounds like people are shouting his name. “I'm glad you called. This is awful.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I've been trying to leave the stadium after practice for over an hour but the paparazzi are everywhere.”
“They’re here too,” I add.
I hear the frustration in Jake’s deep exhale. “I’ve been trying to lose them so I can get to my car but they’re like bloodhounds. I don’t want to lead them to Ryan, not after the week we’ve had. I'm going to sneak off when I can and get a taxi, but it might be a while. Can you do me a huge favor and take Ryan to my place? I’ll text you the address.”
I'm almost surprised the headstrong footballer has the consideration to not bring the negative energy of the media to Ryan. I nod even though he can’t see the gesture, and then remember I have to actually speak.
“Sure,” I stammer out. “I’ll take him to your place. You’ll get there as soon as you can? He’s going to be disappointed.” I hadn't meant to add that last jab in there, but I can’t help myself, I'm still mildly pissed he didn't contact me.
Jake draws in a slight breath and then sighs. “I’ll do my best to hurry. Tell him I'm sorry,” he murmurs, a distinct sadness in his voice.
I hang up the phone and scold my foolish heart for leaping at the sound of Jake’s voice. “You’re still mad at him,” I remind myself.
Ugh! So, why do I still have butterflies?
I head back to the field just as the kids are released from practice. Ryan walks up to me, his face just slightly damp with sweat, his eyes brooding.
“Was that Uncle Jake?” he asks quietly, noting the phone in my hand.
His fingers drum against the white and black ball tucked under his small arm. He’s already accepted that his uncle has missed his practice, but I can tell he’s just as upset as I expected him to be.
I bend down so I'm at the little boy’s height and smile. “Jake just wanted to give me and you a little extra time to hang out tonight. Isn’t that awesome?”
Ryan shrugs, but my words seem to comfort him a little, and he takes my hand again as we walk back to my car. I help him buckle in and play his favorite radio station as we head toward the address Jake texted me.
The apartment building is even more extravagant than I expected. Two men stand on either side of the doors as we approach, nodding when I tell them who I am. They smile and tell me Jake already called to let them know I’d be visiting his penthouse. One point, Jake.
I try not to gawk as we walk through the lobby, but this place is incredible.
Ryan seems to notice the look on my face because he gives me side eye as we walk. “We live in a penthouse,” he says with a trace of pride in his voice.
“That’s pretty cool,” I answer, earning a wide smile from him as he nods.
We take the elevator all the way up to the top floor and then Ryan gives me the key from his backpack to unlock the door. Together, we step inside, but as he traipses off toward the biggest television that I’ve ever seen, my jaw drops to the floor in surprise.
“What the hell?” I whisper, my words getting away from me.
At least they make the little boy giggle. His hands fly to his round cheeks. “Miss Davis, you said a bad word!”
I ignore Ryan’s taunt. “Is this place always like this?” I ask, taking in the mess before me.
Piles of dirty clothes cover the floor, dishes and old takeout boxes litter the countertops, toys and football gear are strewn about. You can barely take two steps anywhere without kicking over an empty box or a pile of toys. It’s like a tornado whirled through here or a burglar ransacked the place.
“Yup,” Ryan says with another laugh. “Uncle Jake says this is what a man cave looks like.”
He puffs out his little chest and it’s my turn to laugh. Things are about to change around here.
“Seems like this man cave needs a womanly touch,” I shoot back, grinning when Ryan tilts his curious head.
Chapter 11
Jake
I run up the stairs to the apartment faster than I ran any drills during training today, practically throwing my body against the door to push it open. Stacy is inside waiting for me, and after everything that I’ve dealt with recently, all I really want is to see her face.
For a split second when I step that first foot through the door, I'm almost convinced I’ve barged into the wrong apartment.
The fragrance of roasted tomatoes and garlic and something earthy—basil?—wafts through the air. Still frozen in shock, I breathe in deeply, my stomach rumbling, as my eyes take in the spotless floors and clean walls. Someone has deep cleaned the apartment. I haven’t seen my floors in such a long time I don’t remember what they look like.
“You alright?” Stacy’s familiar voice calls.
Dazed, I follow the sound of clinking dishes and running water to the kitchen. She stands at the sink, her brown curls piled atop her head as she dries a dish.
“Yeah, I just . . . wow,” I murmur, sinking onto a barstool.
I look around, rubbing my eyes still unable to believe how amazing my place looks. It hasn’t looked like this since I bought the flat. I lean against the counter, marveling at the polished granite surface. The framed picture of Jenny and Ryan that sits nearby has been dusted and Jenny looks even more beautiful than ever without that thin layer of grime covering her olive-toned skin.
Stacy doesn’t look at me, focusing back on cleaning the dishes. Her movements are a bit sharp with justifiable irritation.
I clear my throat, smiling. “This place looks brand new. You did all this?”
“I had a lot of time,” Stacy shoots back.
I don’t miss the jab. It’s deserved. It took me forever to get away from the reporters. But the last thing I wanted was for them to follow me here. I had to wait them out.
At least it gave me time to shower and shave.
“Where’s Ryan?” I ask as Stacy slides open the oven and pulls a warm plate piled high with marinara, noodles and meatballs out and lays it in front of me. “Getting in one last round of Xbox or something?”
Stacy stares at me from over the plate, her brows pinching together.
“He’s in bed, Jake. It’s already after nine.”
“This early?” I laugh. “Wow, I'm surprised you convinced him to go to bed.”
She continues to stare at me, her brow furrowing as the clock on the wall ticks on. I clear my throat again, a nervous habit. I'm just making her more irritated now.
“He’s six. This is not early,” says the brunette beauty in a clearly displeased tone.
“Oh,” I answer blankly.
“You really have no idea how much sleep a kid his age should get, do you?” she asks.
My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “When I was his age, Jenny and I used to stay up practically all night.”
“No wonder he’s exhausted half the time he comes to class,” she mutters. “How late do you normally put him to bed?”
“He goes to sleep whenever,” I answer while shoveling a meatball between my lips. It’s delicious, rich and tender, practically melting on my tongue.
I can’t remember the last time I had a meal like this. Neither Jenny nor I cooked much growing up. We didn’t have the funds for much more than Ramen noodles. And when I made it big, I didn’t have any reason to cook. I lived on takeout.
I bite back a moan and take another big bite, not even caring that marina drips onto my shirt. Stacy shakes her head, but I see she’s fighting a smirk. At least the tension has started easing some.
“You act like you haven’t eaten in years,” she says.
“I haven’t, not something like this anyway. It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” I add before I can help it, gesturing at the clean apartment and the homecooked meal.
> I can’t tell if it’s the dim light, the heat of the stove, or a blush that reddens the beautiful teacher’s face. I could stare at that face all night, all day—forever.
The thought passes through my mind so abruptly that I clamp my teeth painfully down on the silver fork between my lips.
“It’s just spaghetti and meatballs,” Stacy says dismissively. “It was all I could whip up with things I found in your pantry and freezer.”
“If this is something you just whipped up then I'm dying to see what you can do with a full fridge.” Half my plate is gone already and I'm still craving more. “You want a beer or something?” I ask as I walk to the fridge.
“I don’t normally drink on weeknights, but . . . sure. We need to talk.”
I can’t help but wince. That’s never good. Losing my appetite, I grab us two beers from the fridge. I pop them both open and pass her one. We both take the time for a hearty glug before staring at one another from the barstools where we’re perched.
“I really appreciate you taking care of Ryan today,” I say quietly while Stacy visibly ponders her words.
If she’s taking this much time figuring out what she needs to say, then I'm in deep trouble. Maybe Ryan was rude to her like he’s been to the other nannies and she’s decided to call it quits already without even taking him to his Thursday practice. If that’s the case, he and I really are up the creek without a paddle.
She sighs, takes another gulp of beer, and sets down the nearly empty bottle. I'm impressed by how fast the girl can chug. I probably wouldn’t even be able to match her in my college days.
“Things need to change, Jake,” she says in a rush of words that jumble together. She stares imploringly into my eyes. “This isn’t good for Ryan. None of this. Skipping out on things that are important to him, being tailed by paparazzi, surviving on takeout, living in filth despite your beautiful apartment . . . this isn’t how you raise a kid. Ryan needs better. He needs you to be better.”
I swallow hard, knowing she’s right even though every word is like a dagger to the heart. I stare down into my lap. While she’s done with her beer, mine’s hardly touched.
Even though we had less, Jenny raised me better than I’ve done with Ryan. I know he needs more, I'm just not sure where I can pull more from. I feel like I’m giving it my all, I'm just torn in two. Most parents have a partner to rely on, or at least nine months to adjust to the idea of being a parent to begin with, but not me. I was just thrown to the wolves. I had no warning, no time to prepare.
“I want to be like my sister,” I whisper, gesturing at her nearby photo. “I want to raise Jenny’s son with the passion and diligence she had for me, but I just . . . I don’t know how. She sacrificed everything to make sure I had what I needed. She put me above herself every single minute of every single day.”
“And Ryan deserves that too,” Stacy says quietly.
“I know!” I answer, anger coloring my words. “I know,” I repeat, softer this time. “I love that little guy so much, but I never wanted kids. I never saw myself settling down and caring for anyone but myself. What if he turns out like me, a huge mess? I'm terrified of failing him, of him following my footsteps. I'm terrified I'm going to screw him up forever if I spend too much time around him.”
Stacy reaches out and rests one hand on mine. Her palm is smooth and warmth washes instantly over me. I close my eyes for a moment and bask in it, but then she pulls back, and my hand—and heart— is cold again.
Without thinking, I snag her hand back in mine just to cling to it a moment longer. She sucks in a breath of surprise, staring down at our hands. I feel her fingers trembling slightly against my own, but she manages to speak without a tremor.
“Every new parent feels that way, and that’s what you are, Jake. A new parent. You have a lot of learning to do but I have faith that you can do what you need to for Ryan. Follow your gut, trust your heart, and you won’t fail him.”
Her words are kind and they make me feel better, but I know I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to juggle my own needs and the needs of my nephew.
What if my instincts are wrong? What if my heart is misguided?
Slowly, I lift my head to gaze into Stacy’s gentle eyes. She stares back, hope glimmering on her face. She believes in me more than I believe in myself, but I need more than just blind optimism. I need something concrete, something that I know will be there for me.
“Will you help me?” I ask after swallowing hard. I cradle her hand gently, lacing my fingers between hers. “Help me and Ryan. I want to change. But I don’t think I can do it unless you’re by my side.”
Chapter 12
Stacy
Jake’s eyes are so sincere as he stares at me, gripping my hand against his rough palm, his thumb gently tracing up and down the back of my hand. My heart aches, being pulled in two different directions.
All I can think about at this moment is Eric and Morgan’s warnings, which are ringing in the back of my mind.
This is The Hartbreak Kid we’re talking about.
This is a man who’s never committed to anyone or anything except for football. He’s going to have a hard enough time keeping up with his obligations to his nephew, let alone a committed relationship. And he’s not exactly off to a stellar start with how unreliable he’s been lately.
I swallow hard as I gaze into Jake’s pleading eyes. He’s not just asking me to help out around the apartment, not with the way he’s slowly coming closer and closer to me until his enticing cologne tickles my nose.
This isn’t a decision I can make lightly, not with how twisted up my heart is.
On the one hand, I want nothing more than to cave and throw my arms around the hunky tight end and kiss him for the first time. I feel butterflies and sparks just thinking about it. And spending more time with Ryan . . . that kid is so sweet and lovable underneath his hard shell. I would love to get to know the little boy even more.
But that’s also part of the problem.
I'm Ryan’s teacher.
Not only would it be completely inappropriate to get involved with one of my student’s parents, but it’s also strictly against the rules. Principal Walton would have my hide if he ever found out I was spending time around Jake and Ryan outside of school.
I know all of this, but I also know the way my heart feels when I look into Jake’s eyes—complete.
Jake turns in his barstool, still clutching my hand, and suddenly both of his knees are on either side of mine so that my legs are trapped between his strong thighs. Heat radiates from his body. It’s so alluring and comforting that I don’t even pull away. My tongue is heavy behind my teeth, like suddenly I'm under Jake’s spell, which I am, to be completely honest.
He lifts my hand to rest over his heart and I feel it thumping under my palm, along with the strong line of his pecs. He’s so chiseled he might as well be crafted from marble by a master sculptor.
I make the mistake of allowing my gaze to slowly drift up from where my hand is pressed against his chest to gaze into those beautiful brown eyes.
They pull me in with a silent siren song. I feel as though I'm drowning in them, and the only way to save myself is to agree to help him and Ryan even more than I already have.
But this situation is so complicated. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what the right answer is. Do I stay in their lives and possibly get hurt and lose my job, or turn him away and hope that Jake can figure things out by himself?
I mean, at some point he’s going to have to do just that. I can’t hold his hand forever—no matter how much I want to.
Plus, there’s also the possibility that he’s just using me.
I mean look at him. He’s Jake-freaking-Eckhart! He knows how women melt in his presence. He knows how to use his dashing charm and good looks to get his way.
Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe it’s nothing more than a show in order to keep me taking care of his nephew while he’s out partying around tow
n.
I sincerely hope not. That wouldn’t be fair to me or to Ryan.
Ugh!
I bite my lip, wishing that some sort of clarity would hit me like a lightning bolt.
Why does Jake have to be famous?
This would be so much easier if we could just escape the cameras and the watching eyes for a while and give this a go.
And why does Ryan have to be one of my students?
Then we wouldn’t have to hide what's going on, and I would be able to tell if Jake’s intentions were pure or not.
But wishing won’t change the reality of the situation. And the reality is that this whole thing is messed up and confusing and there’s no right or wrong. I just have to take my heart out of it and do what I hope is best for all parties involved.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Jake leans closer and gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear.
“Stacy,” he whispers gently.
Hearing my name uttered in that deep, sexy voice of his makes a shiver roll slowly up my spine. Goose bumps prickle across my shoulders in its wake and I bite my lip harder. He makes it so hard to resist him.
“Are you still in there?” he asks teasingly.
I nod and the hand that just brushed my hair behind my ear strokes slowly to my chin, tipping my face toward his. My chest rises and falls in shallow pants. When I gaze into those eyes of his, I'm hypnotized.
There’s such a strong part of me that wants nothing more than to shut out all my doubts and worries and just give in to him.
He’s so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. His taste is sweet even with the distance between us. My tongue traces the curve of my upper lip. His breath hitches at the sight.
He leans closer, one arm moving to glide around my back and pull me against him.
This is it. The perfect moment. The one I’ve been subconsciously waiting for since I first laid eyes on the incredibly handsome athlete. I know what will happen, I can see it clearly in my mind before either of us even moves. He’ll drag me into his lap so that my legs straddle his, and I’ll melt against his powerful chest and drink in the intoxicating elixir of his kiss, and that’ll be it for me.
Jacob Page 7