Football Dick: A Sports Romance (Big Girls, Bad Boys, and Babies)

by Violet Blaze

  “Shut up.” I push him gently and cross my arms over my chest. “Get your jacket and let's go. If I wait around here any longer, I'm going to turn into a nervous wreck.”

  “You got it,” Rhoden says as he kisses my forehead and heads into his bedroom to grab a coat. It is cold as hell outside. It might not be snowing—never does around here—but the icy chill off the ocean is enough to freeze my panties off.

  I pull my phone from my pocket while I'm waiting and check my new blog for comments. I don't have nearly the level of readership that I did before, but I'm working on winning all those people back. A cute little ultrasound pic should be a fun post, right?

  Or maybe just some pictures of Rhoden's naked back? I could snap some of those while he's sleeping and post them all the hell over. Don't tell me that won't bring readers flocking to my page.

  At least it's still up, I think as I smile and praise my good fortune. Seriously, zero contact from my dad and from Walter. None. And my blog's been up since a few days after we got back from Molly's.

  Things are looking up.

  “Alright,” Rhoden says as he heads back into the living room and reaches out to take my hand. “Let's go see our baby.”

  The doctor's office is quiet and out of the way, in Sunny Brae near all the rich party houses. It's weird to be up here and not be going to a party. Hal has seriously dragged me to way too many. It's definitely time for a break, especially since I'm starting to get bigger. I don't look hugely pregnant, but already I can see the swelling of my tummy.

  No more leather toothpaste dresses for this chick.

  At least, not until after the baby's born. Once that happens, all bets are off. If I turn down Hal for too long, she'll probably try and kidnap me.

  The nurse takes Rhoden and me into a room in the back, helping me get situated on the table, my kick-ass yellow and orange Kierstin Bowlin shirt pushed up out of the way. My pale tummy looks like a full moon, but I make myself relax and take a deep breath. Doubting yourself takes so much effort, why bother with it? It's taking me some time, but I think I'm finally starting to get that. It doesn't hurt that Rhoden's so goddamn confident, so patient and so … loving.

  My cheeks flush as the doctor comes into the room and pauses for a long moment with her eyes locked on Rhoden. Must be an Adders fan. But she manages to maintain her professionalism, coming around the table to stand next to me. At this point, she's got to know we're together. As soon as I got my blog up, I posted about Rhoden and me. With the raging blaze of the internet, the news caught fire. Today, the Huffington Post released an article titled Loud and Proud Big Girl Della Garland's Baby Has A Shocking Paternity—from the Team's Owner to the QB. Yeah. Another crass and tasteless article spread across the web. At least this time, it's somewhat accurate. I can only imagine how infuriated Walter is at this point.

  “Hello, Miss Garland, Mr. Richards,” the woman says as she smiles down at me. “My name is Jane Messenger and I'll be your ultrasound technician today. Do you have questions or concerns before we get started?”

  Rhoden and I exchange a look, the deep warm color of his eyes bringing me some seriously needed comfort.

  “I'm pretty sure we Googled the hell out of it before we came in,” I say and take a deep breath. “I'm more than ready to get this over with.”

  “Aw, it's not so bad,” she says as she gets some warm gel and smears it across my belly. “Trust me, this is one of the least painful parts of the whole experience.” The woman winks at me and I smile back, watching as she places what she calls a transducer across my tummy, bringing up a blurry blue-black image on the screen. At first it looks like the ocean during a rough storm, just a swirl of gray colors. But then I start to see a shape and my breath gets caught in my throat.

  “There we go,” Jane says as she moves the device around and the picture gets a little clearer. “It's too early to be able to tell the gender, especially in the baby's current position, without doing a blood test, but what we can see is the baby's size. At this point, he or she is about half the size of a banana.” Jane smiles, tilting her head so that her blond braid slides over her shoulder. She moves a cursor around the screen to point things out. “Here's the umbilical cord there. And this, this is the heart.”

  Jane spends a minute adjusting her position as the picture on the screen warps in and out, like a surge of ocean waves. What's with all the ocean references today, Della? I make myself calm down, pulling in a deep breath as the image pauses again.

  “Here we go,” she says as I start to hear a sound, like the hoofbeats of a horse, a thumping patter that makes my throat and chest feel tight. “This is the heartbeat that you're hearing.”

  I close my eyes and let the sound wash over me. When I open them, I find myself looking right at Rhoden, getting lost in his gaze as I bite my lip and feel his hand squeeze tight around mine. When he smiles at me, my heart stutters and jumps and the sound of the baby's heartbeat seems to jump along with it.

  That's when I know for sure that my life is going exactly the way it should.

  How funny that it took a broken condom for me to figure it all out.

  After we're done at the doctor's office, Rhoden helps me into the truck, his hands lingering on my waist like he doesn't want to let go. I smile because I'm feeling that same connection, like there's this invisible thread between us that hurts when it's pulled taut.

  Ugh, did I just think that?! I am such a serious freaking sap.

  When Rhoden climbs into the cab next to me, he's smiling, his gaze half-lidded and dark.

  “What's the expression for?” I ask as we back out of the parking lot and start down a back road that will take us to Rhoden's mother's place. Luckily, his game this week fell on a Thursday which means Christmas day is free. We're going to spend it at the cabin with his mom. Ariana's still technically on her honeymoon and Hal's out of town on a modeling gig, so I don't feel guilty leaving them. Although they both did whine and complain until I gave them their presents early. I got them both pet hermit crabs. Seriously. The kind with the painted shells. Neither of them has a pet and I find that weird; this was my subtle hint.

  “What expression?” Rhoden asks innocently, but he has a sexy crooked twist to his mouth that I find endearing. “Maybe I'm just trying to act macho and blink back the tears I have in my eyes for my future firstborn child?”

  I cock a brow at him.

  “Or maybe I just realized how fucking much I'm in love with you.”

  OH MY GOD, HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!

  I cover my face with my hands and make a sound.

  “Please don't talk like that,” I say and Rhoden grins, enjoying making me suffer like this. The better we get to know each other, the more he seems to like it.

  “Why? It's true. You know I don't do bullshit, Della. I just heard my kid's heartbeat for the first time and honestly, it made me realize how loud mine was beating for you.”

  “Seriously? I mean, seriously? You're supposed to save that stuff for quiet nights wrapped in each other's arms.”

  “Oh, don't worry. I've got some extra good lines saved up for tonight.”

  “Please.” I reach over to turn the music on when Rhoden grabs my hand, bringing the tiny heart tattoo on my wrist to his lips, kissing it gently before releasing me. I look up at him and my heart throbs in that painfully wondrous way that I'm only just starting to get used to. “I am so glad that condom broke,” I say and then turn a seriously weird crimson-peach color that I can't explain. I'm immensely grateful that Ariana and Hal aren't around to see it. Why can't I ever come up with cute one-liners the way he does?!

  “Best thing that ever happened to me,” Rhoden agrees, one hundred percent seriously. I lean my head against his arm and rest a hand over my belly, drawing up images of the ultrasound in my head, wondering if I should go get one of those 4D ones that show the baby's face and all that.

  On the drive, Rhoden and I discuss names, agreeing that Ariana's choices are all awful and that we're t
otally not letting her name our baby. She's somehow gotten the idea into her head that her child and my child need to have complementary names, just so they can look extra cute when they eventually become a couple.

  “I really hope she doesn't name the kid Honey if it's a girl. That's … kind of the most hippy name I've ever heard in my life.”

  “Really? I thought Saphira was worse.” I laugh as we pull into Molly's driveway, the sun just beginning to dip behind the horizon. The trees are wet with dew, giving them this look like they're limned in gold. “And the sad part about it is, I'm not even sure if Scottie was joking.”

  “He probably wasn't. Honestly, there was a time he thought Avocado might be cute.” I open my door and slide out after Rhoden, the dogs following after. He helps me down the step and moves over to the front door, using a key from his ring to unlock it.

  I move into the warm interior of the cabin and breathe deep, noticing the two cats sitting perched on the arm of the couch, their green eyes focused on Billy and LD.

  “Mom?” he asks, moving into the kitchen and then checking up the stairs. I make myself comfortable on the sofa and end up with a cat under each arm. For whatever reason, I'm exhausted today, already dreaming of a nap as I yawn and bury myself under a blanket. “She left a note,” he says with a sly half-smile. “She has yet to master the art of texting.”

  “Where is she?”

  “It looks like her bike broke down. She had a friend pick her up and take her into town. She wants us to come and pick her up.” Rhoden looks down at me and then grins, kneeling next to me and folding his arms on the side of the couch. He's really goddamn adorable like that, you know? And young. God, I feel like a cradle robber! “If you want though, you could stay here and I could pick you up something fun to eat?”

  My belly rumbles happily at the thought. I'm having the worst freaking cravings right now.

  “Um, Goldfish crackers and red pepper hummus maybe?” Rhoden's grin gets a little wider.

  “That I can do,” he tells me as I reach over and flick the hood of Rhoden's black sweatshirt over his head. “So, crackers, hummus, and a Super Bowl win. Is that all you want?”

  “Can you take the dogs with you, too? They never listen to me. Make those four things happen and I will be a happy camper, Mr. Richards.”

  “Please. When are you gonna start calling me Big Dick?”

  I smile at him.

  “How about never?” Rhoden sits up and leans forward, pressing a scalding kiss to my mouth and then savoring it, dragging it out in that long, sensual, easy way of his. Most people I know get a weak peck on their way out the door. Not me. I get … this.

  I am one lucky chick.

  “It takes about twenty minutes to get to town. See you in an hour or so?”

  “Sure thing,” I say as I wiggle my cell at him. “I've got backup just in case.”

  Rhoden nods, heading to the door and opening it before he pauses to glance back at me.

  “Della?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I love you.”

  I flush as he leaves, too embarrassed to say it back so easily.

  When he closes the door fully behind him, I feel like I wish I had.

  Not long after Rhoden leaves, I find myself drifting off to sleep, curled on my side with the cats nestled against me. I can't have been out for long when I hear tires against the gravel drive. I figure it's just Rhoden, so I don't bother to get up, laying there on my side with my hands tucked under my face.

  When I hear the knob of the front door turning, I smile. The door doesn't open though, the knob turning uselessly against the lock. I listen as I wait for the sound of a key. When one doesn't come, I sit up, blinking away the shrouds of sleep as I scoot the cats over and rise to my feet.

  A quick check out the windows shows me a car nestled in the shadows outside. It's parked far enough away that the porch light doesn't reach it, but when I squint, I feel like I can make out the front of a black sedan.

  “Who the hell is that?” I whisper, just a split second before something comes crashing through the window to my right. I stumble back in complete shock, bare feet stepping on shards of glass as I move away from the dark shape that's climbing over the threshold. At first, I seriously think it's a werewolf. Well, okay, for like three seconds, I think it's a werewolf.

  Then I realize it's something much worse.

  “Walter?” I ask as the man stands up straight and stares at me with narrow blue eyes and pursed lips. There's an axe in his hand which seriously freaks me the hell out, but then he tosses it onto the floor next to the couch. Oooookay … “What are you doing here?”

  He moves a few steps forward and reaches out, grabbing me by my upper arms in a vise grip.

  “Do you really think you can use my sister to blackmail me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” He shakes me, hard enough to really hurt, his thumbs digging into my skin. I wonder briefly if I can get access to the cell in my front pocket.

  “Walter,” I start, trying to keep calm, trying to figure out what the hell a multibillionaire would be doing breaking into a remote cabin like this. When I look him in the eyes though, it's fairly obvious why that is.

  Rage.

  He is beyond pissed. Whatever he's doing right now, it's not something he's thought out or planned. It just is. He's acting on pure aggression and instinct. Maybe nobody's ever told him no in his life? Maybe he just doesn't understand how to process it?

  I wonder why now, why not several weeks ago when I first emailed him.

  But then I remember the article from this morning: Loud and Proud Big Girl Della Garland's Baby Has A Shocking Paternity—from the Team's Owner to the QB.

  That could do it, for sure.

  “Listen,” I start as Walter starts dragging me forward, looking around frantically and then marching us toward the hallway that leads to Rhoden's room. “You don't want to do whatever you came out here to do, Walt. It isn't worth it. You have everything you could ever want. Don't blow it by doing something stupid here.”

  The man ignores me, yanking me into the hallway as I pull my cell from my pocket and try to dial 911. He notices the phone in my hand and tries to snatch it away, grabbing my wrist and jerking it from my fingers. I struggle with him for a moment, but I don't notice the gun in his hand. As soon as I do, as soon as he has it pressed into the soft flesh of my tummy, I go completely still.

  “Don't make me do this, Della,” he says as he stares at me and I release the phone into his grip. “I didn't come here to kill you or your baby.” Walter tosses the phone onto the floor of the bathroom and grabs my arm with his left hand, using the right to keep the gun on me.

  “What did you come here for, Walt?” I ask, trying to keep him talking, give Rhoden and his mom time to get back here. As soon as they do, everything will be okay. Until then, I just need to keep him from torturing me or … I realize with a sudden start where he's taking me. Into a bedroom. That's not good. That's really not good. “Walt,” I start again, but he's yanking me into the room and pushing me over to the bed, the bed that I made love to Rhoden on. I turn to look at him, pleading with my eyes for him not to do this. “This doesn't have to go badly for either of us, you know that, right?”

  “Shut your fucking mouth. I offered you everything,” he snarls, pushing the muzzle of the gun so hard into my tummy that it actually hurts. I have a goddamn baby in there and he's slamming his semi-automatic pistol into me like I'm a pin cushion. I curl my hands into tight fists, the motion hidden by the long sleeves of my sweater. “You had the world at your fingertips and you shot it down. For what? Some football player's cock? Some slab of meat with few brain cells left in his Neanderthal skull?” Walter gestures with his free hand to the bed. “Lay down, Della. I won't be denied again.”

  “Listen to me,” I start, but without warning, he raises the gun and hits me across the face with it, bringing blood streaming from my nose as I fall back to my ass on the bed. The pain is startling, a white hot nois
e that fills my vision and makes me feel like I might pass out.

  “I won't be told no, Della. And I won't be made a fool of.” Walter gestures with the gun at me. “Take your pants off. Now.” When I make no move to obey him, cupping my bleeding nose with both hands, he reaches forward and grabs at the waistband of my sweats, putting my leg directly between his.

  I lift my knee up as hard and fast as I can, slamming it into his crotch before I roll to the side and off the edge of the bed. I twist my body at the last second and land hard on my hip bone instead of my belly. It hurts like fucking hell, but I manage to lift myself up off the floor before Walter gets to me.

  “You goddamn fucking whore,” he snarls as he scrambles after me. In that moment, I see that he's far more interested in trying to rape me than he is in trying to kill me. I use that to my advantage and duck by him, hitting the wood floor on my knees and scrambling to my feet. I might not be a kung fu ninja master, but neither is Walter. He's a suit wearing boardroom monkey, not an NFL quarterback. To be honest, if I wasn't pregnant, we'd probably be pretty closely matched. I bet we weigh about the same.

  I briefly consider going into the bathroom to get my phone, but it's too risky and Walter's too close. I can practically feel his breath on my neck as I sprint forward into the living room and over the broken glass. My feet burn and ache as Walter catches up to me and grabs my left arm, spinning me towards him. With a quick jerk, I manage to free myself, stumbling back towards the French doors that are opposite the broken window.

  When I burst out into the night, it's raining, thin silver droplets falling from the sky like knives. Even though my feet are killing me, even though I'm several months pregnant, I sprint over that wet gravel like an Olympic athlete, bare bloody feet sinking into puddles as I head towards the side of the house. If I can get far enough away from Walter, maybe I can get back inside and barricade myself in one of the upstairs rooms, hopefully the one that has the house phone in it.

  But I don't make it to the edge of the house because Walter grabs my arm and yanks, making me slip in the wet mud and fall hard to my back, my gaze pointed up at the night dark sky and the smattering of silver stars. Rain falls across my eyes and makes it hard to see as Walter straddles me, grabbing at my clothes with his hands, tearing holes into the loose knit of my sweater as he scrabbles at me like an animal.