by Britney Bell
Outside Blitz
Texas Tornados, 0.5
Britney Bell
Contents
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1. Zane
2. Lily
3. Zane
4. Lily
5. Zane
6. Lily
7. Zane
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About Britney Bell
To my book sisters.
You three are my backbone and never let me falter on my dreams.
Thank you, and I love and appreciate you more than you will ever know!
OUTSIDE BLITZ Copyright © 2019 by Britney Bell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental.
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1
Zane
Dad’s face pops up on my phone just as I am about to run out to the practice field, and I take the opportunity to grab the call while I can. My work of being a defensive end for a professional football team, the Texas Tornados, keeps me going at all hours, making it difficult to fit even a sliver of time to get a quick phone call in.
“Son, we sold the farm and are moving into a retirement community condo in Florida. Everything has to be gone by the end of the month. You always said you wanted that old truck in the barn. Do you still want it?” My mom and dad have lived at the same farmhouse for over 30 years, and that truck has sat in the barn for just over 10 of those.
“Wow, that was a fast sale, that’s great news. I am sure Mom is excited. Yes! I definitely want the truck. I’ll make the arrangements for the hauling service to pick it up within the next couple of weeks. Thanks, Dad. I’ve got to run to practice, but I’ll call you later.” Mom has been pressing him to move to the beach for several years now, and I’m glad they will finally kick back and be able to relax, versus having to work on something day in and day out on the farm.
“Sounds good. Love you, and we’ll talk soon.”
“Love you, too.”
This truck has been in our family my entire life. The memories are endless, it’s a huge part of me growing up. It carried my father and I to the local lake in the early morning hours where he taught me how to fish and all the life lessons on how to be a good man. As I rode many hours around on the farm fixing fences, moving hay and doing any other chores needed, the truck helped to teach me what a hard day’s work was. It barely survived me learning how to drive, and then tuckered out immediately afterwards. Hence, it’s remained sitting in the barn ever since.
Dad’s right, I have always said, “One day I will take this truck and make it new again.” The time has finally arrived, and I’m able to give it life back, as it has helped me grow into the successful person I am today.
When I reach the field, Coach Briggs, the head coach, is already yelling at everyone to get in line for warmups. There’s no playing around on his watch, but I respect him for that. This team is resilient and has the potential to go deep into the playoffs, if not win the championship this year.
Texas college football is almost as big as the pros. So, when the college team I played for won the championship all four years I was their starter, it resulted in me becoming a second-round draft pick, landing me the job with the Texas Tornados.
I’m not going to lie, it’s hard work, but it is extremely rewarding, and allows me to be able to afford more than I could have ever imagined. Even though my parents are too proud to ask, I still secretly help them with things, like pay for their condo and expenses. I want to give back to them, for all that they have given me.
“Blakeman, get the play going! We’ve got a lot to do. This week’s team has an offense with weaknesses, and we need to memorize those weak points so you can get in there and crush them,” the defensive coordinator yells, as he’s running from the sideline to the middle of the field where we are huddled up.
“Yes, sir! We’re on it!” I yell in reply and call out the defensive play that we need to run next to the team. The huddle breaks, each move into their position. Coach jumps back several yards to watch from behind, making sure we are all moving the correct ways for this play to work.
The next few hours of workout are brutal, but we are set for the upcoming game, and I’m exhausted. However, thinking about beginning the project on the truck makes me excited and gives me energy, pushing me to find a hauling service and schedule for it to be picked up.
2
Lily
Working 30 days straight is about to do me in. Thank God I love what I do, or I would have gone crazy by now. The body shop is my life and love. My father handed it down to my brother and I, almost three years ago, and we have grown the business to the point that it is necessary to hire some help.
When my baby niece decided to arrive a month early, that put us in a real bind. Dad tries to help, but I get the brunt of the work. This week is no different than the last. I have four wrecked fender-benders to fix and a total restoration lined up to finish or begin. We’re not totally sure how long my brother will be out, but I’ll keep plugging away until he makes it back.
The morning is filled with insurance adjusters coming and going, accessing the cars’ needed repairs and letting me know my budget for each one. One of these guys is a total dickhead, and I hate when he has to come in. I called in a favor from my dad for this one today. Let Dad deal with that asshole. I don’t have time to be hit on or repeatedly asked out on a date, when the answer will always be no.
Nose to the grind, I look up and see that an old truck has been delivered for restoration. Now, I just need to meet with the owners and find out what they want done to it. There is no phone number or email address attached to the trucking paperwork, so all I can do is wait.
A few days go by, and I still have not heard anything on the truck. I’m beginning to worry that it may have been dropped off at the wrong shop, and I need to call the carrier service to find out if they have any contact information. They are the ones who scheduled the delivery with me, so they must have something. I have to finish up a few of these other jobs, and then worry about it more.
Rolling back under the jacked-up Ford Focus that I’m fixing the fender on, I tighten the screws to secure the fender in place. Lastly, I have to fasten the front bumper, and then this beauty will be finished. Of course, the little thing is giving me fits, not wanting to line up to the screw holes to get fastened back on. “Come on, work with me. Don’t act like this. You know you want to get prettied up and back on the road.”
“Do you make it a habit to talk to all of the cars you work on?”
“What the…” I yell, as I jump up and then back, startled out of my wits. “Where did you come from?” I fire in accusation, holding the wrench out to protect myself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I hollered from the front, but no one answered, so I followed the noise. I’m Z
ane Blakeman. Peyton, from Mickey’s Pub, recommended this shop, and you now have my truck.”
“Oh, yeah, Peyton told me she recommended us to somebody,” I reply, coming around the car to get a look at the intruder. He does look to be safe enough. But, actually, with the way he fills out those jeans, he could get handsy with me, and I wouldn’t mind one bit.
“I’m sorry, what was that you said about your hands.”
Shit! Did I say that out loud? Clearing my throat, I will my business-self forward. “I didn’t say anything. Here, let's step back into the front office. I’m Lily, how can I help you?” I turn back to him sharply as he’s following, and I see his eyes shoot up to mine. Was he just checking out my ass?
“Yes, right. I am here about the old Chevy truck that the delivery service should have dropped off a couple of days ago. Sorry it’s taken me a while to get over here; I was out of town.”
“It’s in the back garage. Would you like to walk with me out there, so you can show me what you want done to it?”
“Sure, lead the way.” His voice is as sexy as his tight muscular body, sandy blonde short styled hair, and those bright blue eyes that you can swim in.
My feet feel like they are cemented to the ground, and I am lost in my own thoughts. Thoughts of jumping on the tall, fine specimen of a man in front of me and riding him cowgirl style.
His throat clears. “Are you okay?”
God, I need a day off and to get laid. “I’m fine. Are you?”
3
Zane
Holy hell, who is this woman, and where has she been hiding? Yeah, that’s right, she’s actually been out on the outskirts of the Dallas Metroplex, tucked away underneath metal and rust, in an automotive body shop, almost in the middle of nowhere. I only chose this place, because when I was hanging out with a few other players at Mickey’s Pub, the bartender, Peyton, overheard me asking for recommendations to body shops. She said that her friend’s shop is the only place in this area that she would trust.
I don’t know why, but I just assumed her friend was a guy and not the smoking hot brunette standing before me. She is not the normal model want-a-be type that is always hanging around the stadium, trying to get players attention. No, her hair is up in a messy bun, the back of her t-shirt displays the same logo of the sign out front and is decorated with a few smudges of dirt. Straight legged jeans cover the tops of her work boots. Following her out to the back garage, I am mesmerized by the sway of her hips, those gorgeous round globes moving up and down to the pulse beat in my head. Damn, I would love to take those ass cheeks in my hands and…
“Here we are,” she says, cutting me off from my thoughts. The sound of her voice abruptly brings my attention back to her upper half. Her eyes hold a glint of mischief, and I know I was just caught checking out her beautiful round backside. She grabs a large handle, sliding back one of the side doors to the garage. Quickly, I move to help by opening the second side door. “Thank you. Alright, now tell me what you want to do with this ol’ boy.”
Tons of memories flood my head upon first sight of the truck. The two-tone colors of baby blue and white are almost lost under layers of dust from the years of being stored, and it takes me a minute to get my bearings. Movement to the side pulls my attention back to today, as she seems to know what I am mentally going through and steps to the side of her shop to tinker with some things, giving me a private moment to reflect on the past.
Overall, the truck is still in sound condition, but there are scuffs and dents that can be smoothed out. The largest being the bumper, where I backed into our mailbox when I was learning how to drive. I thought my dad was going to kill me. Instead, he shook his head, clasped me on the shoulder, and told me about the time when he was learning how to drive a tractor and ran into the barn door.
Locking memory lane down, I take one final walk around to assess all that needs to be done. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Lily,” she responds, as she puts down the tools in her hand and meets me back at the truck.
“Okay, Lily, I hope this one won’t be too much work. Can you smooth out the dents and give it a new paint job? The inside will need a bit more work, because the bench seat will need new upholstery, but the biggest challenge will be to overhaul the engine, and get it running again. When you get into the job, please fix anything else you see, and just tack it onto the bill.”
She walks around the truck, taking in every instruction I give and asks, “Do you want the colors to stay true to the original, or do you want to change it up?”
“Please keep it as close as possible to the original colors. This truck holds a lot of great memories, and I’d love to keep its character. Thank you so much for helping me out with it.”
“No problem, we will get this pretty boy back on the open road in no time. Let’s head back to the office, and I’ll get your contact info should I have questions later.” The way her face lights up when she calls my truck ‘boy’ strikes me, making me want to get to know her better. I don’t have time to date, but I would love to get her number. She’s intriguing and fascinates me.
This time, walking back upfront, we walk side by side, and sadly, I don’t get to take in the view of her impeccable body. We talk about the truck, and I tell her a few quick stories about growing up on the farm with it. She seems to really understand the emotions that come with each memory. I can see the passion she has for her job, as she beams with excitement to start working on it.
Other things plague my thoughts while we discuss the truck. Maybe I could find a small moment to have dinner with her. Would she go out with me, if I asked her? Yeah, I know, I’m a pro-football player, but she doesn’t seem to realize that. Here, I’m just a man and his old truck, trying to get to know a girl.
“I’m sorry for keeping you late. I am sure your husband or boyfriend is waiting for you,” I state, anticipating that there is neither of those waiting at home for her.
“Actually, no. I’ve been working late, since my brother’s out with the new baby, and there is not any one to go home to. So, I might as well be here, spending my time doing what I love. There is plenty to keep me busy.” Perfect, that’s the answer I wanted to hear.
We reach the front and all my questions are halted, because there is a man there who looks Lily over like he can devour her in one gulp. She stiffens and mumbles under her breath, “Where the hell is Dad?” Protective instincts for her come out of nowhere, as I move closer, claiming my space next to her. Taking a few more steps in, she greets the unwanted guest, “Bob, have you met with my father yet? Did you get what you needed on the red Buick insurance claim?”
“Yes, I met with him and got everything written down and pictures taken. He’s already left, but I was hanging around to see you.” This prick finally sees me, now standing really close to Lily, in a defensive stance with my feet planted firmly on the ground and my arms crossed over my chest. At six foot five, and workout for a living, I tower over her like a bodyguard. Eyeing me up and down, he continues, “I’ll just wait until you finish with him. I wanted to talk to you about that date we are going on sometime soon.”
I have an unsettling feeling in my gut. There is no way she would actually date this guy. I don’t know her, but I can tell by her reactions that she is not interested in him at all. When I glance down at her, to double check that I’m correct in my thoughts, she looks up at me, and a slight smile turns her pretty lips up. Shocking the shit out of me, she places her hand on my crossed arms and reaches up to place a soft kiss on my cheek. “Actually, Bob, this guy right here is my boyfriend, and he will not be going anywhere. Now, as I told you a hundred times, I will never go out on a date with you.”
I’m dumbfounded at what she just said, but Bob is still not getting the hint. Damn, this guy is persistent. I have to step in, or he will never leave. “You have what you need on the car, so you can go now,” I say sternly and take a step forward as I uncross my arms and scoot Lily into a protective hug, ta
king on the full bodyguard persona.
The little ass tries to stare me down as he rambles, “I’ll go, but, Lily, this isn’t over…”
Cutting him off, I take another few steps closer to him, looking straight down at his balding head. “Yes! Whatever thoughts you have in that tiny brain of yours, is definitely over. I better not ever hear that you talked to her again about taking her anywhere, or else, my ten brothers and I will hunt you down. Got it?” He’s physically shaking, and without a response, he turns and practically runs out of the shop, gets in his car, and skids out of the parking lot.
4
Lily
“Oh my God! I am so sorry! For me to say that you are my boyfriend is extremely unprofessional. That guy is crazy. He literally has asked me out every single time he has been here, and I have turned him down repeatedly. I knew he was coming in, and my dad came up here to deal with him, but I guess he hung around in his car until my dad left and came back in. What a creep!” Words are firing out of my mouth, as I pace back and forth in the front lobby, trying to calm down. I am so mad, tears are pooling in my eyes, and I don’t want to cry.
Zane calling my name in a low smooth voice makes me stop, “Lily,” and I turn to look at him. “It’s alright, I can see that guy is a total wack. You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
Angry tears want to spill out of my eyes. “I just don’t get why he can’t take no for an answer. Again, I am sorry. Let me grab this info paper for you to fill out, so I don’t waste anymore of your time. Unless you would like to move your truck to a different shop. Which would be totally understandable.”