Single Dad Boss: A Small Town Romance

by Kara Hart

  We fall asleep like drunken messes and I wake up a little later with his hand firmly gripping my butt. “I love this,” he murmurs as he falls back asleep. I love this. Oh. There’s that word. The dreaded l-word, love.

  I don’t say a word. I just close my eyes and hope he forgets what he just said. When I wake up again, he’s hard as a rock. He leans over and kisses me, pressing his cock against me. Of course, I’m wet. I can’t even control myself at this point. Looking at that gun he’s packing makes me go insane.

  I wrap my legs around him without thinking and he fucks my brains out, again. He tries for a second round, but I’m forced to push him away. “I have to go to the office today,” I tell him, swatting his hands away. “Plus, I think we need to take a little break.”

  He falls against the bed cushions and sighs loudly. “A break? What? Why?” So many questions all at once.

  “Um,” I close my eyes and feel my muscles tense up. Why? I suddenly don’t know why. I look at him with his perfect body and peak strength, and I suddenly forget why a break would be beneficial for anyone in the world right now. “Because my company works for your team. It’s unethical.”

  He laughs loudly and grabs at the wine bottle, taking a few sips. He spills some of the dark red liquid on his chest and laughs some more, shrugging. “Fuck being ethical then,” he says.

  I fall across the bed again and groan. “Ugh! I know. No one is ethical. Not really. But we could get caught and I do not need that in my life right now. Seriously, Jackson.” I grow tense and serious and, still, he laughs at me.

  “Well, fine. You can take a break. I’ll work overtime for you. Your pussy means that much to me,” he says. He smiles wide and rolls over, pulling me against him.

  “Don’t make me barf,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But if you need to do that, go right ahead. You won’t get me playing those games.”

  “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’ll give up,” he says. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

  “Good God,” I sigh. “I really am fucked, aren’t I? Something has changed inside of you hasn’t it? What have I done?”

  He lets go of me and sits up. “Nah. Same old dickhead,” he says. “But I’m sort of obsessed with your ass right now. Sorry. It happens. I’ll get over it someday.”

  “That’s appropriate,” I tell him, smiling. “just don’t let it affect your game. If it does, we’ll be both out of a job.”

  He rubs his hand over his eyes and his smile suddenly fades away. “What?” I ask him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I sort of threw a punch at a teammate yesterday. Landon,” he says, tensing up. “But, fuck it. He deserved it.”

  I feel disappointment flow through my body. My whole body stiffens before I have the nerve to speak. “You punched a teammate? Come on, Jackson. We talked about this.”

  “Don’t be disappointed,” he reassures me. “Everything is fine. It’s all taken care of. I got the day off to let off some steam.”

  “So you came here to fuck my brains out. That’s letting off some steam?” I ask him, grabbing my clothes.

  “Yeah, actually,” he smiles. “There’s nothing that could make me feel as good as you have lately.”

  “Okay.” I sigh. “You can’t say things like that. It makes me feel weird. It makes me—”

  “It makes you wet, doesn’t it?” he asks, reaching between my legs. I push away from him, laughing.

  “A little, but that doesn’t mean you’re right!” I say, standing my ground.

  “I’ll be good. I promise,” he says. Do I believe him? “I’m an idiot who makes mistakes sometimes. It’s not the end of the world. We’re going to crush the next game and then the game after that too. I’m going to take us to the Championships, baby.”

  I tap a finger against his abs. “Don’t let me down. You’ve been on my good side lately. You don’t want to see my bad side.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He salutes, kissing me.

  When he leaves, the house is quiet, except for the branches that tap against my window. I hug my pillow and curl my legs around it. I’m in too deep, aren’t I? I told him we couldn’t be together, but how are we supposed to contain this now that it’s gotten so out of hand?

  I fall asleep to dreams of him. Odd dreams. Dreams where we’re walking together and we’re old. And when I wake up in the middle of the night, dying for a glass of water, I realize just how stuck he is in my mind. I’ve got to keep my distance. I can’t let myself fall any further.

  77

  Jackson

  She looks into my eyes and tells me we shouldn’t keep up what we’ve been doing. The woman just can’t handle me, she says to me. She can’t handle fucking me so much and if we continue, she’ll never be able to resist me. It’s not exactly the worst thing a girl can tell a guy.

  Still, I get the picture. This is bad news. I’m bad news. This is always how I’m perceived. Back when I was a kid, people always thought of me as the good kid. Now, people either scoff at me or hide their eyes.

  It’s not hopeless, however. In the end, I’m still going to win at this. It’s like I said to her: I don’t give up and I love a challenge. And right now, I have bigger fish to fry. I gotta make up with Landon and Coach first.

  I actually first head to the local bar, grab a Rainier and down it. I don’t aim to meet anyone today. The reason I’m out is purely to wind down, away from people. Except my whole fucking team walks in through the doors and I’m forced to reevaluate some things.

  First of all, where was my invitation? If there’s a team function, I’m usually the first to know. I’m the first to grab shots for everyone and I’m always the person to give a toast. Instead, I’m in the damn corner, drinking a warm beer all by myself. It’s just as I suspected. The team has some weird shit against me now. Makes sense, I guess.

  Landon walks in last and throws his hands against the bar loudly. He orders shots for everyone and doesn’t even look my way. He takes the shot, orders another round, and proceeds to jump on top of the bar. He grabs another shot glass and raises it high in the air. Someone yells up to him. “Speech! Give us a speech!”

  “I was never one for speeches,” he says. “So all I have to say is fuck you, and drink up!”

  I shake my head and attempt to leave. I’m halfway out the door before I lose it. It’s like I’m not even on the team anymore. I turn back around and head to the bar. “What’s the word?” I ask, slamming down my arms against the bar loudly. My palms clap against the wood and Landon jumps out of surprise.

  “What’re you doing here?” he asks coldly. I take a shot from his limp hand and down it back. I sigh loudly and smile.

  “Just came to get a drink. I’m allowed to do that, right? This is, after all, my favorite place to drink,” I reason. I’m not out for blood. I just want to make myself clear. All that Landon and I had in our friendship is now shattering before my very eyes.

  I look into his light blue eyes and spit onto the floor next to his shoes. He jumps back, throwing his arm behind him. He lands a solid punch against my jaw and I fall back with a wince. I shake it off and keep my smile on him, taunting him every chance I get.

  The whole team at this point has surrounded me. They’re yelling this and yelling that. It’s funny, actually. In a moment of crisis, everything tends to blackout. It’s like I’ve found my special place. The place where everything slows down before speeding right back up. I close my eyes and wait for the right cue.

  Someone behind me whispers, “Bro, don’t do it. Don’t swing back. Landon is just trying to work you up, so you can’t play in the next games. He wants to take the Championship from you.”

  It sounds like Loke’s voice, but I can’t be too sure. Either way I spin it, it’s not anyone’s championship but our championship together. There’s no one road to glory. Still, the thought of Landon holding that trophy up to a crowd of 100,000 people makes me sick to my stomach.

  He swings at me again, hitting me in the upper ch
eek this time. I’m less mad about the pain than I am about him fucking up my face before practice the next day. I push my body off of the bar and throw my hands up.

  “You know what?” I say. “Me and you, we were tight man. Now look at you. Look at how you’re acting. Over some bullshit misunderstanding. It’s cool, brother. You got your revenge tonight. I’ll see you on the field, boy.”

  I push past the crowd and head outside. A few second string losers start cheering at my departure. They’ll do anything to please Landon. Anything for a shot at fame. Of course, they won’t get any closer using this tactic.

  The door slams behind me and when I’m outside of the muffled bar room walls, the sounds of the street rush by me. It starts to rain and I have to laugh at myself when my clothes are sticking to my skin, clinging to my chest. I start to walk, but the sound of the bar door opening and closing again makes me turn my head.

  “Wait up,” Loke says, jogging behind me.

  “What’s up?” I ask. “Hey, thanks for the tip back there. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  He nods. “Yeah, man. I don’t really get this feud between Landon and you, but I’d rather it just stopped,” he says, pacing on the sidewalk in front of me now. He starts to shiver when his clothes become as soaked as mine.

  “Don’t look at me.” I laugh. “I’m cool with making up. It’s him who keeps provoking me.”

  “I know you, man. You’re a loose cannon, sure. But you’d never turn on one of your brothers. That’s just not like you,” he says. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Don’t let him fuck with your anger.”

  “I’ll try my best,” I sigh. “It won’t be easy, though. Back there in the bar, I swear I almost ripped his fucking face off.”

  Loke laughs and looks down. “All over a girl, huh?” He eyes me, smiling.

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “But it’s complicated. We go way back.”

  “Is she good, or what?” he asks. “Do you love her or some shit?”

  “I don’t know.” I turn my head. “I just know I don’t want to be away from her. I don’t get it, Loke. I never thought I’d grow so soft.”

  “You ain’t soft, man,” he shakes his head. “You kidding me? I’ve seen you shatter a 240-pound player’s shin, right in half.”

  “Yeah, so what? Everybody has a story like that in this business,” I say.

  “Man, Landon’s never played a hard play in his life. He’s been handed everything on a silver fucking spoon. You’re the real deal, man. So, stay safe. If you like this girl and shit, you better do it right. Go after it, but don’t let it affect your game. No more fighting. We stick together.”

  I give him a hug and pound his back. “Thanks, man. We’ve always had a good understanding of each other.”

  He just nods and I walk away. Loke and I have a bond, much stronger than me and Landon’s. It’s good to know I still have some allies in this business. I head home, walking in the pouring rain. When I get to my place, I’m shivering and shaking with cold.

  Somehow, I fall asleep. When I wake up, I’m as sick as a fucking dog. I can barely speak, let alone run a play. And I just know that Landon will be on the field, celebrating my failures.

  78

  Fiona

  I get the text and within an instant, I fall back into panic mode. Got into a little fight, he says. Don’t worry. No one saw and I didn’t swing back. Proud of me?

  Yeah, real proud. I roll out of bed and text him back. No one saw? You sure about that? If any of this leaks out, we’ll have a mess on our hands. I can just see the headlines right now. “Football hero is losing his cool all over again.” “Anger Management,” or my favorite headline I made up, “Jackson Leeman fights teammate, runs home to PR girlfriend.”

  No matter how you spin this, it doesn’t look good for anyone. It’s starting to seem like Jackson is an impossible player to work for. He’s not crazy. I won’t let the press fight him on that one. No, he’s as sound as a whistle. The only thing is, his luck only reaches the field. Off the field, he’s going to fuck up and he’s going to get caught for whatever he did.

  That’s why I can’t be with him. I have too much riding on this to let it go down the drain. Plus, I’ve got a life in LA. I can’t just stay in Portland forever. I’ll transfer right after this Super Bowl and leave this time behind me. I’ll remember it as “The Time I Fucked Jackson Leeman.” Not exactly the nicest headline, but it’s accurate.

  Of course, I start to get flashes of his impeccable body in my mind. My cheeks turn a rosy hue and my breathing becomes more difficult than before. I put my face in my palms and squeeze to wake myself up more. I walk into the shower, turn it on, and feel the cold turn a steamy hot. I step inside and clean myself off.

  The water falls along the curves of my body and, again, I remember the other night. His strong abs pressing against my back as he pounded his flesh into me, the way his arms wrapped around my body, him losing himself for me… I shake my head and open my eyes again. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep playing this game.

  However, it is the only thing in my life right now that feels, well, real. My career is perfect. I do my job well and I go home to a nice place. At the end of the year, my salary looks pretty damn good, and I get a few months off after the Super Bowl. So, what do I really have to complain about?

  A knock on my door sends me cowering to my room. I look outside the blinds and see Jennifer scowling at me. She motions for me to unlock the door and I do, embarrassed. I open it and stand in front of her with a damp towel covering my body.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “I thought you were… him.”

  She pushes past me and groans. “Again? We’re still on this guy?” she asks, falling onto my couch.

  Sure, come right in. I walk into the bathroom and keep the door open as I get ready. I dry off, and reach for my comb. “Yeah, well. It happened again,” I admit.

  “Of course it did,” she says, grabbing an apple from my fridge. She cleans it off and helps herself, taking a big bite. “I knew it would. It never just happens one time.”

  “It can happen one time,” I correct her.

  “Impossible,” she says, shaking her head. Her mouth is full of green apple bits.

  I lean out of the bathroom and glance at her, annoyed. “You’re going to tell me you’ve never had sex with someone just once?” I ask her. “I’m sorry, it just doesn’t seem believable.”

  “Honey,” she laughs, jumping back down on the couch. “If I’m fucking someone, you better believe that I’m going back for seconds.”

  I shrug. “Well, I guess I’m just not that good at finding Mr. Right. I’ve been with plenty of men who haven’t satisfied me,” I say.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that they all satisfy me. I just mean that I always go back for seconds,” she laughs again. “I’m usually disappointed.

  “Yeah, well. Same here. That’s what’s so weird. I thought it would be one small thing, you know? I thought I’d be bored by the next day,” I admit. “Oddly enough, I’m not. It’s weird, but I’m actually captivated by the whole damn thing.”

  “How was the second time with him?” she asks, back straight and perky.

  “You don’t even want to know,” I laugh, starting the blow dryer. The hot wind wraps against my scalp, the roar nearly drowning out my thoughts.

  “Um, actually, I do. I need to know. Don’t you get that by now? I’m loving this little romantic fling you’ve got yourself into,” she yells over the dryer.

  Within a few minutes, I’m done and I step outside again for a second. “The second time was the best I’ve ever had,” I concede.

  “Tell me,” she demands. “Now. I need to know.”

  “Ugh,” I groan loudly. “It’s too graphic. You don’t really want to know.”

  “I didn’t say want,” she says, annoyed with me. “I said I need to know. You’re over here, getting the best sex of your life, while I go on dates with losers and get nothing satisfying in return. I
t’s not fair. The least you can do is share your glories with me.”

  “Oh!” I run back into the bathroom and grab my makeup. I bring everything outside of the bathroom and sit down next to her. When I glance at myself in the mirror, for a second there, I see the 18-year-old version of myself, staring back at me. There’s an innocence in her eyes and it makes me feel awkward for a second. I grab the mascara and everything changes back within an instant.

  “I almost forgot to ask you.” I turn to her. “How did that date with the producer go?”

  “Stop trying to change the subject,” she says, glaring at me. “It’s like I just said. It went awful. The guy was extremely boring and when we got back to my place, he kissed me on my cheek.”

  “On the cheek? Jeez,” I laugh.

  “Yeah, so I invite him in and he accepts,” she goes on, “but he falls asleep right before… oh, never mind!”

  She runs over to the fridge and grabs a bottle of white wine. She pours it in a glass without asking and takes a big drink. “He fell asleep while eating you out? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No,” she says. “I am not.”

  She takes another drink and fills the glass back up. “What are you telling me then?” I ask, trying to contain my laughter.

  She looks down at my tile floor and struggles to even get the words out. “Um, well. He kind of fell asleep while I was doing something to him,” she says, squinting her eyelids together. She’s got a painful look on her face, like she never wanted that to get out in a million years.

  “Oh my god,” I fall against the back couch cushions and squeal loudly. “Are you kidding me? He fell asleep while you were giving him head?”

  “You don’t have to say it like that,” she says, groaning. She comes back to the couch and crosses her legs. “Anyway, yeah. He left and I never called that bastard back again. He’s been texting me all week. So, yeah. You have to spill the details of your little rendezvous before I tell you anything more about my shitty romance life.”