Olive pops up. “Let’s do it.”
My sister heads to her desk, calls Wilder Enterprises, and asks for Lacey. They set up a time to meet tomorrow, and Olive says she’ll come with me.
Funny, how I pictured going it alone—doing this whole fix-my-mess-by-myself thing.
But my friends and my sister have been by my side all along.
Especially when Olive settles in next to me and we discuss her options, then mine, reviewing teachers and putting together a new plan. It feels amazing to have this kind of support.
But then, that’s what we’ve always done—support each other.
And it feels so damn good to have her here with me today.
28
Katie
There is someone else who supports me too.
Who’s a big part of this situation.
Who’s the very reason for it.
I ring Harlan, but I don’t expect him to answer. He’s in practice most of the day. Still, I want him to know what’s going on.
When I reach his voicemail, I end the call and click to text.
Better to just tell him everything.
Katie: Hello! Can you say busy day? It’s been one. My mother showed up unexpectedly at my place this morning, and it was kind of eye-opening. She asked me to be her maid of honor at her upcoming wedding. I said no. And I felt great. Amazing. Because I felt nothing for her—no anger, no hurt, no annoyance. I felt lucky to be on the other side. But I also realized, I don’t want to be like her one bit. So, I’m not asking you to change anything, but I don’t want to do this secretly any longer. I told Olive today, and we’re working together to find the best replacement for me to present to Lacey. I know this is all happening sooner than expected, but . . . I didn’t feel right pretending anymore. Especially after yesterday. I am falling for you, and I can’t keep working with the team and you this closely, knowing how I feel. I hope you understand. I’m working at the office with my sister today. Call me or text me or something!
Before I hit send, I review the message, a new dose of anxiety running through me. Have I stepped out of bounds with Harlan? Assumed too much? Am I going all Lone Ranger?
But then, I replay what he said in his kitchen as we made monkey bread: whenever it works for you, I’m by your side.
I need to trust that he meant it. That he’s able to handle this change in plans.
That’s part of his job—to react to split-second shifts on the field. To his quarterback calling audibles. To getting open when other receivers are swarmed.
Harlan, I sure hope you’re open to catch this pass I’m lobbing your way.
But whether he is or not, I need to do this for me.
This is the right way to live. This makes me happy.
And I’m doing it.
My phone is silent the rest of the afternoon as I go for a swim to calm my nerves, then still as Olive and I bring Zachary into the plans and finalize our ideas with him.
They might also watch a few more cat videos.
As a big orange cat leaps onto a piano on Zachary’s screen, I check my phone again, hoping for a reply.
But there isn’t one.
I swim back into work. We make calls and come up with a pitch that we hope Lacey will love. I try not to stress about hearing from Harlan.
Besides, there’s time. I’ll surely talk to him tonight, and we’ll be all set before Olive and I see Lacey tomorrow.
But at four-thirty, my sister sighs a heavy, “Oh.”
I snap up my gaze from my phone, tension tightening in me. “What is it?”
She hums thoughtfully at her desk, then raises her face from the screen. “Lacey just emailed me. She says she has an all-day meeting tomorrow, but she lives in Hayes Valley and wants to grab a drink in an hour.”
My heartbeat races to the moon.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.
I repeat that over and over.
I call up my yoga mantras too.
Yoga and wine and coffee and something. Yoga is how I pretend to be calm . . . and fuck! I’m not calm. I can’t settle down.
But I need to. I need to trust Harlan meant it when he said he’d be by my side.
I need to trust I’m not hurting him.
I take a deep breath, set a hand on my chest, and will my heart to quiet.
I send him one more message as we leave the office.
Katie: Hi!!!!! I’m freaking out. Is everything okay?
But I don’t hear from him as we head to the bar to meet Lacey, and I do my best to be the cool, collected businesswoman I am.
Or should be.
When I reach the lobby of our building, I’m anything but cool and collected. Especially not when Harlan walks through the revolving door and straight toward me.
29
Harlan
That was an exhausting practice.
But a damn good one. I knock fists with Cooper, then Jones as we leave the field. It’s been a long-ass day of stretching, game film, drills, and playbook review.
Then lots of time with the receiver’s coach.
“I feel good and ready for Sunday. You guys?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah,” Jones says.
“Bring on New York. If we win, we’ll clinch a playoff post,” Cooper adds.
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” Jones deadpans.
“Smartass,” Cooper says as we head down the corridor. “The wife is coming, and the kids, and I cannot wait to give her a kiss at the edge of the field once we secure our spot. It’s my lucky tradition, and I won’t break it.”
“I’ll do the same with my woman,” Jones adds.
“You two are too cute,” I say, shaking my head in amusement at their romantic antics.
But inside, my heart squeezes a little harder than I’d like. I want what these guys have. Want it badly.
Took me long enough to find the woman I want to share those moments with. But I’ve found her, and I can’t wait to start up with her for real.
In public.
In the light of every damn day.
The possibility of that someday, maybe next season, brings a smile to my face.
“What are you grinning about, chuckles?” Cooper asks when we reach the locker room.
“Just thinking about games and stuff,” I say. It’s sort of true, and sort of not.
I hit the shower and get dressed, and once I’m buttoning my shirt, I grab my phone from my locker.
“See you all tomorrow,” I tell the guys as I take off, powering on my cell as I go.
Once I’m in the hallway, I order a Lyft, then my notifications light up.
I check to make sure Danielle’s got Abby as planned.
Yup. All set.
Abby even texted me from Danielle’s phone with an I love you!!!!!!!!
Complete with eight exclamation points and, also, nine heart emojis.
I write back, telling my girl I love her too, then I find a text from the woman I’m crazy for, and I slide it open.
Whoa.
I read it twice.
Holy hell.
She did this?
She. Did. This.
She fucking did this.
Katie is brave and gutsy and sexy and all mine.
Also, she sounds worried AF.
That is not okay.
I pick up my pace through the hall, texting her back as I go.
Harlan: Is everything okay, you ask? Everything is amazing. You’re amazing. And that sounds like more than a busy day. I’m coming to see you.
NOW.
Do not worry about a thing with me. EVER.
I Google her work address, and when I get in the Lyft, I change my destination, giving the driver the address to Katie’s corporate headquarters instead.
As we weave through traffic, my mind time-travels to yesterday in Katie’s studio. How incredible it felt to make love to her. It slips back further to the days we’ve spent at my home, the conversations we’ve had. I wind all the way back to more t
han seven years ago when I met her.
How we clicked instantly.
But then fate threw obstacles at us left and right, up and down. Timing has always vexed us.
But look what Katie did today. She sped up time. She took it in her hands and said I’m doing this.
I grin as I think of her, my tough and sweet and sexy and strong Katie.
She made this happen.
She made us happen.
When my mind leaps ahead to this weekend, and the next one, and the one after that, I know what I can make happen.
I have no more questions.
Only clarity.
I text her one more time.
Harlan: Can’t wait to see you. Can’t wait to tell you something big.
30
Harlan
I only have eyes for her.
I march straight over to my Katie, sweep her up in my arms in the lobby of her building, and kiss the breath out of her.
She melts into my kiss in seconds, murmuring and sighing as I sweep my lips across hers.
It’s been twenty-four hours since I touched her, and already that feels too long. That only confirms what I’m about to do.
I set her down, and she gazes at me, woozy and happy. “Whoa. That was quite a greeting.”
I can’t wait a second longer to tell her. “I know what I want to do at the end of the season. And you’re the first person I want to tell,” I say with a newfound certainty.
And a calmness too. My brain is no longer full of questions—only answers.
But the sound of clapping reaches us. With Katie still in my arms, I swing my gaze to the right. A woman—I presume her sister—is cheering us on, and a guy in black glasses claps along with her.
Meanwhile, Katie grins at me, then holds up a finger. “I’m dying to know, but I do have to go see Lacey. We have a meeting with her in about ten minutes to let her know what’s going on and that I need to step back.”
Damn.
My heart craters.
I want to spend the rest of the night with Katie.
A throat clears, and the blonde who’d been cheering now closes the distance, stretching her hand out to me as I set Katie down.
“Hi. I’m Olive Madigan. You better be good to my sister or I will kick your ass,” she says.
I flinch, which I don’t do even when linebackers steamroll me. But there is something hella scary about that sister bond. Plus, I’m pretty sure Katie delivered a similar warning to Jones all those years ago. It’s just . . . hot when women look out for each other.
“I will be so damn good to her. You have my word, Olive,” I say from the bottom of my heart.
Olive lifts her chin and holds my gaze. “Good.” Then she turns to Katie. “Now, you’re excused from the meeting. Zachary and I can handle it. We’ve got this. Go be with your man.”
Katie gasps. “For real?”
Olive rolls her eyes. “For real. Seriously. Go.”
“Tell Lacey I’m so grateful for the opportunity. That I loved it,” Katie says, her voice brimming with excitement.
“Tell her I loved it too,” I say drily.
“Somehow I doubt the team will be upset with you about a thing.” Olive’s tone is equally dry.
“Tell her anyway,” I add.
“I will,” Olive says.
“You guys are the best. You really don’t mind?” Katie asks.
“We’ll take it from here.”
“We’ve got this covered,” the guy in glasses chimes in. Then to me, he says, “Good luck Sunday. I’ll be rooting for you to clinch.”
“We all will,” Olive says, then grabs the guy’s arm, and they take off.
I return my gaze to Katie, but not before I do a quick sweep of the lobby. A receptionist tries to keep herself busy at the desk, but I can tell she’s also trying just as hard to listen.
The elevator stops, lets off passengers. Someone enters through the revolving door.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re at my home, since it’s closer.
The second the door shuts, Katie parks her hands on her hips. “Spill. I waited during that whole Lyft ride. And it was hard. Really hard.”
I laugh and loop an arm around her waist, tugging her close. “I’m so proud of you, my sexy, impatient, brilliant, tough, gutsy woman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Talk. I am dying to know what you decided. I updated you on my day the whole ride over. I told you every detail.”
I swipe my thumb along her jaw, laughing at her greedy heart.
It matches mine.
And my greedy heart doesn’t want to wait a second longer. I won’t let timing rule my choices. I’m done with waiting, and planning, and hoping.
“Sometimes, you have to make your own time,” I say, turning more serious. “That’s what you did for us today, and I love it. And I love you, Katie.”
She shudders out a breath, roping her arms tighter around my waist. “I love you too, Harlan. So much.”
“And I love what you did. Because I learned you have to stop looking for the perfect moment and just seize it, instead. So that’s what I’m doing now.” I take a big gulp of air. Dear God, I hope she likes my plans. I truly do. I hope they aren’t presumptuous. But here goes. “At the end of the season, I’m going to retire.”
Her mouth falls open. Goosebumps rise on her arms, and her eyes widen to saucer size. “What?”
I smile, feeling so damn good about this. Feeling resolute. “I’ve had a great career. I’m healthy and injury-free. I’ve won more games than lost. I have two rings, great stats, and amazing memories with incredible teammates.” I take a beat—my throat tightens with emotions, but I push through them. “But the thing I don’t have that I want more than anything, more than football, more than winning, is time. Time with my little girl, and time with the woman I love.”
Her lips quiver, and her eyes shine with tears. “You’re not going to open . . .?”
“Open a pie shop?” I supply.
“Yeah?”
I shake my head.
“An ice cream/foosball place?”
Another shake.
“Are you going to be, I dunno, a broadcaster, or a play-by-play analyst?”
I laugh, shaking my head, holding her tight. “No. I just want to be . . .” My heart expands as the words take shape. I hope this doesn’t freak her out. “. . . a dad.”
She lets go of me, her hand flying to her mouth, tears streaking her cheeks. “Oh my God.”
But I’m not done. “And if you’ll have me, I want to be your man. I want to spend my time with you and my girl.”
“Stop, just stop.”
My brow knits. I freeze. “What did I say wrong?”
She shakes her head, grabbing me harder, pulling me closer. “That is the sweetest thing.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my smile returning.
“So sweet. I love it.”
“You do?”
“I do. So much. It’s perfect for you.”
“I just want to have weekends with Abby. And you. I want to go to her gymnastics showcases, and I want you to come with us. I want to take her to the playground, or whatever she wants to do, and bake pies with her and you, and not worry about traveling to New York or Dallas or Seattle. I just want . . . time. I want it with her, and I want it with you.”
And I’d really like to have kids with you.
But I don’t say that yet. I don’t want to scare her off. Soon, I’ll tell her. Very soon.
She swipes her fingers across her cheeks, wiping away tears. “I think that’s a perfect post-football career.”
I run a hand through her hair, kiss her eyelids, her cheek, her jaw, then return to her lips. I kiss her with newfound freedom, with the sense that we can kiss again tomorrow and the next day, and then again on Sunday.
When I break it, I toss her onto my shoulder and head for the stairs. “If memory serves, you liked
this fireman’s carry,” I say.
“Mmm. Loved it,” she says as I take the steps two by two. “Are you taking me to your room to do bad things to me, handsome?”
“I’m going to do very good things to you,” I say as I reach the landing. When I set her down, I look into her eyes. “Hey. You want to come to the game this Sunday?”
She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “Can I kiss you when you clinch?”
Oh, yeah. She knows me so well. “You better. I want a hot, sexy sideline kiss from my woman.”
She tap-dances her fingers up my shirt. “Then you better win, handsome.”
“I plan to.”
I make quick work of her clothes, and football falls completely from my head. In seconds, we’re naked, tumbling onto my bed, and rubbing and pressing against each other.
Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers sending a rush of pleasure through me. “Can I ride you?” she whispers.
A groan works its way past my lips, coming from deep inside me. “Yes. The answer to that is anytime.”
I shift to my back, and she straddles me. She dips her face to mine, kissing me as she rubs her sweet, hot pussy against my throbbing cock.
And I am pretty much helpless, lost in desire for her.
She sinks onto me, taking me all the way, and my body crackles, electricity sparking everywhere.
My hands loop around to her soft ass, and I grab her cheeks, knead and squeeze her flesh.
She raises her chest, sliding her hands up to my pecs, setting a wild pace.
She looks like the woman I wanted in my bed the night I met her.
And the woman I wanted to please the night I met her again.
And the woman I can’t live without now.
She is all of those women, and I’m crazy for every side of Katie.
She’s the one I want now, and for all time.
I’m certain, and certainty feels incredible.
So does she as she rides my dick and rocks her body against mine, her moans growing louder, her pace quickening, her breath coming fast.
A Wild Card Kiss Page 21