“I don't know what you mean.” I stared at the field so she couldn't see my eyes. I'd been trained to withstand interrogation, but nothing had prepared me for how I would react to Rachel's questioning. I'd grown to care about her, and I didn't want to lie to her.
“Deny it all you want, but I can see things have changed between you and my son. A mother always knows these things.”
Britney leaned over me and asked, “What's changed between them? Oh my God, is Sera pregnant?”
“No,” I hissed.
“I wish,” Rachel sighed, shocking the fuck out of me. “But I guess I’ll just have to be satisfied with the fact that she's falling in love with my son.”
“I think she already fell, which is only fair since she’s his girlfriend,” Britney pointed out.
“Which is probably why the relationship is starting to look real,” Rachel mumbled.
She wasn't quiet enough because Britney's eyebrows shot up. She surged out of her seat and tugged on our arms. “Come on. We need to talk.”
She led us out of the stands and down to the room where families went to meet the players after the game. Since there was still time on the clock, nobody else was there.
“Okay, you two. Spill. This one”—Britney pointed her thumb in my direction—“shows up out of nowhere and says she’s Rowan's girlfriend last week. I didn't question it because he's always been super private and she's more than awesome enough to have snagged his attention. But now you”—she pointed at Rachel—“are making me think there's more to the story.”
I was about to deny everything when Rachel blurted out, “Rowan has a stalker, and Sera is his bodyguard. But I know she's really more than that because I see the way they look at each other.”
“Stalker? Bodyguard?” Britney echoed in shock.
Now that the secret was out, there was no reason for me not to share more details since Britney had already been cleared as a suspect. I laid it all out for her, and when I got to the part about what happened with the letter Thursday, she gasped, “Oh, my God! The kid said the guy was old enough to be his grandfather, right?”
“Yeah. He wasn't much help beyond that, though,” I confirmed.
“This is going to sound crazy, but I noticed a guy out at the players’ entrance with the diehard fans. He caught my attention because he looked like an older version of Rowan. I remember thinking it was probably what he’d look like in about twenty to thirty years. That would probably put him smack dab in the grandfatherly range for a teenager.”
“He looked like an older version of Rowan?” Rachel echoed, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. Britney nodded, and Rachel cried, “I think I know who Rowan’s number one fan is.”
“Who?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket to update the rest of my team.
“Rowan's father,” she answered. “It would explain the odd part in the letter I got, too. About the stalker blaming me for being a bad mom.”
I sent a quick text to Whit, asking him to come to the family room. “Rowan never talks about his dad. Who is he?”
“That’s because my son has never met his father,” Rachel sighed as she walked over to a chair in the corner and sat down. “He's just the guy who knocked me up when I was eighteen and then ran as far as he could in the opposite direction when I told him I was pregnant. I haven't seen him since then, except for when he signed paperwork to relinquish his parental rights after Rowan was born. That was thirty years ago.”
I gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “What’s his name?”
“Jack Duncan. He was my gym teacher in high school. Nobody ever knew that he was the one who got me pregnant.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “He gave me some money, and I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want my baby boy to always be known for the scandal that would've surrounded his birth if people found out.”
Shit. Our team should’ve asked about Rowan’s father sooner. I would’ve wanted to track his ass down so I could kick it, and then we would’ve known where he was. After I shot the information over to the rest of the team, things moved quickly. It turned out that the guy had season tickets. I left Rachel in the family room with Britney as Whit, Devon, and I made our way over to his seat just as the clock ticked down the final seconds of the game.
Jack Duncan was easy to spot. I immediately understood why Britney had noticed him. His resemblance to Rowan was striking.
The people around him had left their seats right when the buzzer sounded, but he stayed where he was. His eyes were locked on Rowan, who was talking to one of his teammates on the sideline.
“Stadium security is tight. He shouldn’t have a weapon on him.” Whit’s voice was the barest whisper of sound.
“There are three of us and one of him,” Devon pointed out.
“And there’s no record of violence in his past.”
While they bantered back and forth, I moved closer to our target. Coming up behind him, I waited for Devon and Whit to flank him on either side before I tapped on his shoulder. “Mr. Duncan, I’m going to need you to come with us.”
He jumped out of his seat and twirled around, recognizing me in an instant. “You’re that girl who’s dating my s—Rowan Charles.”
He’d almost slipped up and called Rowan his son. It would not take much for the cops to break him and get him to confess to sending the letters. “I’m not his girlfriend”—Whit and Devon both snorted at that—“I’m part of the bodyguard team he hired to protect him from a stalker.”
“A stalker?” He glanced from Whit to Devon and back at me again. His eyes filled with anger, and his cheeks went red. “He thinks I’m stalking him? That ungrateful son of a bitch! He wouldn’t be anything without my blood running through him. Where does he think he got his talent for football? His mother?” he spat.
“He didn’t get anything from you,” I hissed. “And he sure as fuck doesn’t owe you a damn thing except for the paperwork for a restraining order.”
He reared back and looked ready to explode when Whit yanked his arms behind his back and pushed him down the row and up the steps. Devon patted me on the back as we followed them. “Another mystery solved, and without a drop of blood shed. I’m glad things turned out so well.”
Me, too…but now I needed to figure out what the end of the case meant for Rowan and me.
Rowan
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him?” My mom searched my face for any sign I might regret my decision. “Because I’d understand if you did. He’s your father after all.”
“He isn’t my father.” I’d heard him ranting over the fact that my mom had stolen his legacy from him when I’d gone down to stadium security office. I’d missed the takedown, but at least Sera had sent Devon into the locker room to let me know what happened right away. “I have no need to talk to that man. He’s nothing to me.”
“Okay, honey.” She gave me a hug and smiled up at me. “Just keep in mind that we both have something important to thank him for.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. “What’s that?”
“I wouldn’t have you if it hadn’t been for him.” She walked to the front door of my house and opened it, turning to add, “And you wouldn’t have met Sera if he hadn’t gone bonkers over your early retirement.”
“I’ll give him that much,” I conceded. But nothing else, I thought to myself as she shut the door.
It was past midnight, and I was physically and emotionally drained between the game and what had gone down with the man who thought of himself as my dad. Coach had been understanding about the situation and told me I could skip tomorrow. Or today, considering the time.
All I wanted to do was climb into my bed, pull Sera close, and sleep for about a dozen hours. She’d gone upstairs to give me time to talk to my mom, which I appreciated at the time. But now that my mom had gone back to her house, I went in search of my woman.
I didn't spot her in the bedroom at first. Then I heard a sound from the master closet and went to see
what she was doing. She’d been busy during the time I had spent with my mom but not in a good way. All her things were off the hangers, and it looked like her duffel bag was full. “What are you doing?” I asked, gripping both sides of the doorframe tight in my hands.
Sera kept her head bent toward the top drawer where she'd kept her panties and bras. I couldn't see the expression on her face when she answered, “Packing up my stuff.”
“Why?” I growled.
“Because once the job is done, that's what the person on close protection detail does. They leave. It's not as though I can just stay here with you forever.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and it got me moving.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I stopped right in front of her and waited for her head to tilt back so I could look into her eyes. “I thought we already covered this when you tried to hand me off to someone else from your company.”
She shook her head. “No, the only thing we decided was that I’d be the one to stick close to you while you were dealing with your stalker. Now that we know who it is, the case is over.”
“Let me be more clear, then. I want you to stay here with me.” I brushed a kiss over her lips. “Forever.”
“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” she halfheartedly argued. “And they’ve been an emotional roller coaster for you. I don’t think you should be making decisions like this right now.”
“But we’ve spent those days together almost around-the-clock,” I countered, determined to knock down any roadblocks she put up.
She cocked a brow at me. “It hasn’t been close to around-the-clock.”
That was a fair point, but I was undeterred. “Okay, as much as my schedule allows in season. And if we use some creative math and tally up the hours we’ve spent together to compare it to normal dating situations, I bet we’re at least on date number fifty.”
She laughed softly, some of the tension leaving her body. “How do you figure that?”
“Three hours per date times fifty gives us one hundred and fifty hours.” I tapped the side of my head. “We’ve definitely spent at least that much time together so far.”
“I’m not sure about that creative math you’re using, but you do have a point,” she conceded.
It was enough of a green light to get me moving again. I tugged on her hand and led her into the bedroom. “The fiftieth date is definitely in the acceptable range for moving in together.”
“Maybe I’d agree to that with a little convincing,” she suggested.
“I’m at my most persuasive when we’re in bed together.”
“Then by all means.” She climbed on the mattress. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I quickly stripped out of my clothes and then tugged hers off her lithe body. Once I had her naked, I rolled onto my back and lifted her to straddle me. “I want to see your tits bounce while you ride my dick.”
Wrapping her hand around my cock, she guided it to her entrance and slid down. Her pussy was tight around me, and this angle let me go deeper than usual. “You feel so fucking good, angel.”
“Yes,” she whimpered, rocking her hips while I was anchored inside her. Her pussy was already fluttering around me, and she was dripping wet.
“Don’t you want to be able to ride me like this whenever you want?”
“Yes,” she hissed, as I glided my hands up her stomach to cup her tits.
She started to ride me harder, and I tweaked her nipples with my thumbs. “Then move in with me. For good.”
“Uh-huh,” she sighed, her head falling back and her eyes drifting shut.
I slid my hands around to her back and pressed her forward until her tits were smashed against my chest. I hammered up into her pussy, feeling it tighten around me. She was so close to coming, and so was I. But I needed something else first to make the moment perfect.
“As my wife.”
Her entire body shook as she cried out, “Yes!”
My cock jerked inside her, my hot come filling her up. We continued to rock together until her orgasm was over. She slumped against my chest and peeked up at me. “Did you really just ask me to marry you in the middle of sex?”
“You wanted me to convince you to move in with me.” I switched our positions and stretched my arm out to pull the top drawer on my bedside table. Pulling out a jewelry box, I flipped it open with my thumb. “I figured a great orgasm and a diamond ring just might do it.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and filled with tears. “This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing? You got me a ring?”
“When you tried to leave, I realized I loved you and never wanted you to go.” I pulled the ring out of the box and slid it on her finger. “I asked one of my teammates for the name of their jeweler. The guy he uses was more than happy to come to the stadium yesterday to let me pick out the perfect ring.”
“You did an excellent job.” She stared down at it in awe. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”
“Absolutely.” I stroked my thumb over her finger, just below where my ring now rested. “I want all of them.”
She grinned at me. “I was hoping you’d come upstairs tonight and talk me into staying. I didn’t want to go for the same reason. I love you, too.”
I claimed her lips in a passionate kiss before asking, “Is that a yes to my proposal?”
“Only if you tell me why you call me angel.”
It was going to sound corny as fuck, but that didn’t stop me from answering. If she wanted to know, then I was going to tell her. “Because you’re my guardian angel.”
Curious about Brecken and his wife? Save Your Soul is only 99 cents and available in Kindle Unlimited!
About Rochelle
Rochelle absolutely adores reading—always has and always will. When she was growing up, her friends used to tease her when she would trail after them, trying to read and walk at the same time. If she has downtime, odds are you will find her reading or writing.
She is the mother of two wonderful sons who have inspired her to chase her dream of being an author. She wants them to learn from her that you can live your dream as long as you are willing to work for it.
Check out Rochelle’s Amazon page for a full list of her books.
Guys Like You
Charleigh Rose
Chapter One
Halston
“We don’t have to stay long if you’re not into it,” I promise my best friend, Allie. While she looks the part of a badass with her Doc Martens and band tees, she’s gooey-soft in the center. Pure mush. Don’t get me wrong—she’s sarcastic, bold, and one of the strongest chicks I’ve ever known—but she’s also inherently good and kind and…a virgin. When most girls our age were simultaneously getting drunk and falling in love every other week, Allie was grieving the loss of her dad and missing the first few months of freshman year at Kerrigan University.
“It’s fine,” she shouts unconvincingly. I pull her through the living room packed with sweaty bodies, ducking to avoid a plume of smoke.
“Maybe tonight you’ll find the perfect candidate,” I say, bouncing my eyebrows suggestively.
“Doubtful.” She scoffs. “If I were going to hook up, it wouldn’t be with anyone who’d hang out here.”
“That’s exactly why this is the perfect place to find a one-night stand to practice on,” I argue. “You won’t fall for any of these boys.” That’s the beauty of it. I pull her toward the perimeter of the room to scan for potential suitors, and I’m not disappointed.
“So. Many. Boys.” Like shooting fish in a barrel, but I need to find the right one for Allie. Not just any boy will do. I continue my perusal when I see him. Tall, tanned, and shirtless. Khakis stretched across wide thighs. Floppy light brown hair flipping out from under a backwards baseball hat. He’s at the keg, pouring a beer into a red Solo cup, smirk in place as he pretends to listen to whatever the group of girls in front of him are saying.
That one’s mine.
“I’m parched,” I an
nounce, narrowing my eyes.
“For the boy or the beer?” Allie’s laugh trails behind me as I move toward him without another thought.
“Both. Definitely both.” I cut through the wall of females, planting myself directly in front of the Adonis before me, effectively ending whatever conversation was happening.
“Hey,” I say casually. I know I’ve seen him around town before, but he didn’t go to high school with us here, so he must be an East Shore kid. I wonder how I’ve never run into him on campus. Kerrigan is a small school, assuming this guy goes here, as the Wildcats lanyard dangling from his pants pocket would suggest.
Tall, tanned, and shirtless smirks, looking me up and down. “Hey back. Thirsty?”
I nod, trying to conceal a smile. Too easy.
“Shep!” he barks out abruptly. I look over my shoulder to see none other than Jesse Shepherd. Jesse was the quintessential bad boy that transferred here senior year that everyone wanted a piece of. He left for college, but every co-ed in a sixty-mile radius drops whatever—and whomever—they’re doing when he comes back to town.
Of course they’re friends. They’re easily two of the hottest guys in River’s Edge. Jesse gives him the bro nod, acknowledging him, then he’s walking toward us.
“’Sup, Sully?” Jesse asks.
“Sully?” I pull a face. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a Sully. A James, maybe. Or a Logan. Definitely a Logan.
“Last name’s Sullivan. But you can call me Daddy.” He winks and I arch a brow. Okaaay, so maybe he’s a bit of a douchebag, but he’s pretty. But with a face that pretty, I can overlook the cheesy pick-up line.
He hands me the too-full cup he just poured before wiping his beer-soaked palm on the front of his pants. My eyes follow the movement, fixating on the obvious bulge, and shit…why did I do that? I can’t look away. Sully clears his throat, and when I meet his eyes, it’s his turn to smirk. Because he thinks he’s just gained the upper hand. I hold his stare, both of us locked in some sort of battle for dominance. I lick my lips, and I see the slight bob of his throat, but he doesn’t falter. Slowly, I bring the red cup to my mouth, taking a sip. A tiny bit of beer drips from the cup onto my chest before rolling down to the top of my left breast. Sully’s jaw hardens as he tries to keep from looking down, but he still doesn’t cave. I feel my lips pull into a petulant pout.
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 25