by Kendall Ryan
He leads us into a bedroom down the hall. There’s a queen-size bed dressed in a fluffy white down comforter, and a Pack ’n Play set up in the corner.
Oh my God. The man comes complete with a Pack ’n Play. What planet am I living on?
“Thought this bedroom would be best for you. When I babysit my sister’s littlest one, I put her down for a nap in here. Everything’s clean, though. My housekeeper was just here and laundered all the bedding.”
It’s more than I could have hoped for. It’s more than I have for Ella at my place.
“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur, tears threatening to spill again.
Alexei is standing so close that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I can feel his eyes on me, piercing me, as I bend over and carefully place Ella inside her bed for the night.
“If you need anything, my door’s at the end of the hall. I’ll keep it open. Just holler, okay?”
I nod, suddenly unable to form words at how sweet and kind this complete stranger has been to me tonight.
Alexei takes one last look at Ella before turning to face me. “Good night.”
I watch the way his muscles bunch and move underneath his fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
Everything about the past couple hours has been surreal. Too good to be true. I can’t think about it without my heart clenching and belly tingling with nerves.
Once I turn out the light and climb into bed, I realize how exhausted I am. I worked a double shift today, and all the muscles in my body are limp and tired. I relax into the feather pillows and close my eyes.
Lying alone in this room with the soft sounds of Ella breathing, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing, and no idea what I’ll do tomorrow.
I have a lot to worry about—paying my rent and my heating bill, and taking care of Ella while trying to track down Andi. But right now, in this moment, I feel comforted and content, all thanks to a nice man who cared enough to help tonight.
As I look over toward the Pack ’n Play, though, I know that Ella is warm and fed. And that’s enough to give me pause, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same thing in a couple of days.
Chapter Three
Alexei
I wake to the unfamiliar sounds of someone cooking in my kitchen—the sizzle of bacon in a pan, dishes clinking together. It’s an unusual but not unwelcome sound. I’ve lived alone for the past eight years, ever since I graduated from college and went pro. Smiling, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand.
The morning erection tenting my boxers will need to be dealt with, but now isn’t the time. Instead, I head into the bathroom and brush my teeth while I wait for it to deflate. Then I throw on some athletic shorts and a white T-shirt, and make my way into the kitchen.
Ryleigh’s hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Without the makeup she wore last night, she looks even younger. She’s barefoot in my kitchen, singing the lyrics to some pop song that’s constantly on the radio. She finishes cooking a skillet filled with scrambled eggs and turns off the gas burner.
“Morning,” I say, my voice still raspy from sleep.
“Hi. Good morning,” she chirps.
“You made breakfast?”
“There’s bacon and coffee, and toast too. I figured being an athlete, you have a healthy appetite. And then I saw all the ingredients in your fridge. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. This is great.”
I help myself to a mug and fill it with coffee. I usually don’t bother making coffee at home, opting to pick some up on the way out instead. It’s a rare treat to enjoy a morning like this at home.
“Where’s Ella?” I ask.
“She woke up early, just before six. She’s already napping again.”
I nod, seeing that it’s already eight. “I need to be at practice in an hour.”
“I have to work later too. Will you drop us off on your way?”
“Uh . . . yeah, of course.”
I don’t like the thought of them going back to her apartment, especially since it doesn’t have heat, but I hope to have that fixed shortly. I emailed my manager last night, gave him Ryleigh’s address, and asked him to pay whatever she owed to the electric company so the heat could be turned back on.
I help myself to a plate piled with perfectly crisp bacon, eggs, and toast, then take a seat at the breakfast bar. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Ryleigh nods and takes a plate for herself. “Thank you. For everything. I mean, you could have just kept walking last night.”
“I know, but that’s not me.” I run a hand through my hair.
“Why didn’t you?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question. “The truth?” I say after swallowing a bite of bacon.
She nods, and brings a forkful of eggs to her lips.
“It’s probably going to sound cheesy, but it seemed like you needed help. That guy seemed like a real fucking creep. Excuse my language, and my mom raised me better than to just walk by a woman in need.”
A smile tugs up one side of her mouth. “You’re quite the gentleman.”
“Something like that.” I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about me. On the outside, I’m as gentlemanly as they come. But on the inside, I’m pretty much like every other red-blooded male. I like casual sex—a lot of it, most definitely watch too much porn, and I curse like a sailor when I’m with my boys. Minor details that will stay under lock and key because somehow I like her thinking that I’m just a gentleman.
“These are perfect, by the way.” I take another bite of eggs. I swear they’re the best eggs I’ve had in ages.
Ryleigh smiles as she watches me eat. “Glad you’re enjoying them.”
I want to hold her blue eyes captive, but don’t want to unsettle her.
Ella lets out a cry from the bedroom, and Ryleigh hops down from the stool beside me.
I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Let me. You eat.” I hate to think about the idea that this might be her only meal today, but it very well could be.
Ella is lying on her back, her tiny arms and legs flailing as she lets out frustrated cries. “Come here, little princess,” I murmur softly as I lift her from the bedding.
I return to the kitchen and finish the rest of breakfast holding my fork in one hand and a soothed baby in the other.
Ryleigh shoots me curious glances whenever she thinks I’m not looking, and I’m not sure what to make of her expressions. I don’t want her to think I’m overstepping some invisible “the help is nice now, but what happens tomorrow to Ella and me” line. But I do want Ryleigh to realize that there are good people in this world. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s also one of the good people. She could have just as easily taken Ella to child protective services when her roommate abandoned her baby . . . but she didn’t.
My heart beats over time when our hands brush as she collects our plates. I’m not nervous, but I’m really, really aware of her. Her honey hair is starting to slip from her bun and for some strange reason I want to run my fingers through it.
After we clean up from breakfast, we pack up her and Ella’s things and load them into my car. I have just enough time to drop them off at home and make it to the training facility. We ride in comfortable silence to her place. I linger at her front door as she unlocks it. I may have just met Ryleigh yesterday—this woman who stirs something inside me—but some part of me isn’t ready to walk away.
“Thanks again, Alexei. I don’t know how I could repay you for . . .”
I hold up one hand, stopping her. I don’t want her to repay me. I meant what I’d said when I told her no strings. “It was really no trouble. If anything, I need to repay you for making those eggs this morning.”
She smiles and takes Ella from me as she steps inside. “Have a good practice.”
I nod, suddenly at a loss for words, and then it hits me. This is most likely the last time I’ll see Ryleigh. We’re
strangers. She doesn’t fit in my life, and I certainly don’t belong in hers. And yet . . . I find myself reluctant to leave.
The realization that Coach will ride my ass if I’m even thirty seconds late makes me move quicker back to my car, but not before I turn and look back at this woman and the child who doesn’t belong to her, and wonder what their future holds.
• • •
“Let’s go! Where’s the hustle, Ivan?” Coach yells from the edge of the field, and then blows his whistle.
I jog to the sidelines and take a deep drink of water. He’s right. I’m distracted as fuck and playing like shit.
My teammates notice it, as do the coaching staff, and there’s no excuse for it, other than Ryleigh. My mind is on her instead of practice.
I’m wondering if her heat got turned back on, if she’ll be okay—and not just today. I find myself thinking about what happens next for her, which is crazy. That baby’s not mine. I shouldn’t even care. I’ve always taken great care to wrap my shit up every single time so I don’t end up knocking up some girl and be in the same situation as her roommate. I’ve seen the huge responsibility of having a baby, and I’m in no fucking hurry to become a father.
But then why is my mind stuck on them both?
We finish practice, and I stomp off the turf toward the locker rooms.
“A word, Ivan!” Coach calls out from behind me.
Carrying my helmet, I jog back to where he waits.
“Something going on with you?”
I shake my head and try to move the knots that have settled between my shoulders. “Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” At least that much is true. “I’ll be ready for the game Sunday.”
A vein throbs in his forehead as he runs one hand over the back of his neck. “You’d better be.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod and jog off, releasing a heavy exhale.
Frustrated, I move through my post-practice routine in silence, removing my pads and gear, stripping down, and showering under the warm spray. By the time I’m done toweling off, I don’t feel any better, but I know what I need to do. I need to see Ryleigh. Need to see with my own eyes that she’s fine, and then I’ll move on, let them live their lives and I’ll go back to living mine. She said she had to work today, so I decide that’s where I’ll go first.
I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A few minutes later, I’m out the door and heading toward a certain topless bar . . . toward a certain woman who’s constantly on my mind.
When I arrive, I park my car, making sure to lock it, and then head inside.
Blinking to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, I approach the hostess station, already looking around for Ryleigh. I don’t see her, but a blond hostess smiles at me and grabs a sticky menu as she steps out front to greet me. She’s in a skintight black dress that’s so short, I’m sure if she bent over, I’d see what color her panties are—if she’s even wearing any panties in this “upscale” establishment.
“Hi, handsome. One for lunch?” she asks.
“Sure. Is Ryleigh working today?”
The blonde nods. “I’ll seat you in her section. Right this way.”
Frustration blooms inside my gut as I follow her through the bar and toward the back where high-top tables and booths wait, mostly empty at this time of day. The walls are painted black, and red silk sheets hang from the ceiling, dividing off the space. Deep, seductive bass music thumps softly in the background.
After sitting in one side of the booth and accepting the menu, I still haven’t spotted Ryleigh. The hostess flounces away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Part of me knows I shouldn’t be here, but the other part of me won’t be satisfied until I see her.
I thought I was prepared to see her again . . . until Ryleigh turns the corner and steps into my line of sight. What I wasn’t prepared for is the heavily made-up version of Ryleigh wearing nothing but a tiny pair of glittery booty shorts. My heart begins beating like a snare drum inside my chest. Fuck.
She stops in her tracks when she sees me, her eyes widening almost comically large, and something inside me twists.
For a second I think she’s going to run and hide, or at least try to cover herself. But then Ryleigh finds her composure, straightens her shoulders, and moves toward me.
As she struts closer, my mouth goes dry and my cock twitches in my pants. Her skin looks so soft and creamy, and her hair is flowing in loose waves down to her shoulders. Her breasts are perfect, not too large, but a nice handful that my palms ache to touch. Her nipples are tight and blush pink, and I want my mouth all over them. Now.
When she stops beside my table, I’m so hard and also so irritated that I’ve forgotten how to speak. The tiny shorts she’s wearing are basically just a pair of panties, and there’s some kind of delicate chain necklace thing around her hips. It’s distracting as fuck.
“What can I get you?” she purrs, her voice low and seductive.
What the hell? Why is she acting like we’ve never met?
“I came to check on you,” I say, my voice coming out too tight. “You okay?”
She bats her dark eyelashes. “Just peachy.”
“Did your heat come back on?” I ask, straight to the point.
An annoyed look flashes across Ryleigh’s face, and then she smiles at me again, only this time it doesn’t reach her eyes, which have turned an icy shade of blue. “That’s not for you to worry about, Alexei. I’m not a charity case, and despite what you witnessed last night, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Now, would you like to order lunch or not?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the tone of her voice. “Sure. Bring me a burger, please. Salad on the side. And a couple glasses of ice water.”
“Right away, sir,” Ryleigh says before strutting away, her shapely ass taunting me as she leaves.
I squeeze my eyes closed and huff out a sigh. It’s a strange and unexpected reaction, but it makes me angry to see her here like this, knowing that any Tom, Dick, or Harry can walk in here and get an eyeful of her. I knew she worked here when we met, so I have no idea why it’s suddenly giving me heartburn to see her in this environment. She’s beautiful and almost naked, and it’s pissing me right the fuck off.
Soon, she delivers two glasses of ice water, and I waste no time in drinking one of them in three big gulps. I’m usually dehydrated after such an intense workout and practice, but I’m pretty sure this is me attempting to quench my thirst for something else.
Without another word, Ryleigh turns to go again.
“Wait,” I say, setting down the water as calmly as I can.
“Yes?” Her tone is clipped.
“How’s Ella? Is she with your neighbor?”
Ryleigh nods. “She’s fine, Alexei. Please stop worrying about us.”
The way she says my name is too intimate, like we’ve known each other for years rather than less than twenty-four hours, like we’re lovers and not virtual strangers. I like the sound of it way too much.
Ryleigh turns away to head back toward the kitchen, as if on a mission to get away from me as quickly as possible.
The next time she comes by my table, it’s to deliver my food, which she does without a word. Normally, I’m ravenous after practice. Today, I barely manage to take a few bites before I push my plate away.
I hate that she has to work here where strange men look at her. I hate that her apartment is in a neighborhood that’s so unsafe I don’t even want to walk around there alone. I hate that her roommate gave her more to worry about and take care of when she left Ella there with nothing.
Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I rise from my seat. I dig out my wallet and toss down a couple of bills, enough to cover my meal plus a $100 tip.
I need to leave before I do something stupid like beg her to quit.
And what would she do then, Alexei?
Come home with me again, my brain says, answering the unspoken question.
Not a
good idea, and I know it. Yet, I still wish there was something I could do to fix this.
I find her lingering by the bar, where she’s waiting as the bartender fills a drink order. I’d forgotten how much taller I am, but standing beside her emphasizes how petite she really is.
She spins to face me. “Your food come out okay?”
I nod and shove a piece of paper at her. “Here’s my number. Please text me if you need anything. You or Ella. Okay?”
Ryleigh looks surprised, her big blue eyes peering up at mine as she accepts the scrap of paper. “Okay. But I won’t need it.”
Without a backward glance, I walk out with a hollow feeling inside my chest. A feeling of loss for something that was never really mine to lose.
Chapter Four
Ryleigh
“He’s a freaking pro football player, Ry!” Desiree squeals, grabbing my upper arms as she jumps up and down.
“I know,” I say, shrugging out of her grip to collect the money he left at the table, and count it. Dear God . . .
I’m still shaking from my exchange with Alexei. The last place I expected him to show up today was my work. Let’s face it, I wasn’t expecting him to show up anywhere in my world. I figured he’d run as fast as his athletic legs would carry him after he fulfilled his obligations from last night.
“Ry, I don’t think you understand. That was Alex Freaking Ivan. And he asked to sit in your section,” she says, still grinning at me like this is the best news she’s ever heard in her entire life.
I’m a little surprised she recognized him, but then again, it’s possible Desiree follows sports more than I do. Scratch that—if there are attractive men involved, of course she follows.
“Why don’t you seem excited? He’s one of the most talked-about players in the league right now. He got into some huge scuffle with a reporter at the end of the last season, and got suspended. He almost lost his contract. But then he signed a new and even better contract for thirty million dollars . . . as long as he can behave himself.”