IMPACT: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vivian Lux

  “You do. This is your life. I’m not trying to take that from you. I’m just trying to figure out where I fit in it.”

  “You fit in it just fine,” I said, closing my fingers around her wrists again. She looks down at where we were connected, and she smiled, but once more the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You fit,” I said again, more urgently.

  But even I could hear how hollow my words sounded.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Candace

  When we made love that night, something was different. Ian was quieter, his constant flow of dirty talk silenced. He held my face in his hands, watching me closely, eyes darting back and forth like I was a book he was trying to read, but written in a language he didn’t understand.

  Afterward, I laid next to his warming bulk, and listened to him fighting the sleep that he so desperately wanted to overtake him.

  But I was wide awake.

  “What would you do?” I asked suddenly. “If you weren’t playing hockey?”

  Ian sighed and rolled over heavily, his huge frame creating a divot in the center of my bed that I slipped into, my whole body resting against the length of him. “What do you mean?” He sighed again, heavier this time, as he reached out and started rubbing my back.

  I pressed a kiss in the center of his chest, tasting the fine sheen of salt still left over from our lovemaking. “I mean, what else do you like to do, besides play hockey?”

  “You,” he answered immediately. “I like to do you.”

  I sighed. “Cute. But, you know what I mean, Ian.”

  “I don’t know, Candace,” he said, flopping back onto his back and flinging his arm over his eyes. “Hockey and you. That’s what I like. I’m a simple man, with simple fucking pleasures. I like you, hockey, and beer. Pretty much in that order.”

  “Not hockey, beer, then me?”

  He reached down, and slid a hand between my legs. “I’d like you better than hockey if you let me sleep right now,” he said, stroking me gently.

  I sighed, giving in to the sensation, but even after he had made me come twice in rapid succession, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more.

  There had to be more.

  He left before the sun came up, kissing me three times on the forehead and then once more on the lips when I rolled over and demanded that he “kiss me for real.”

  Once he had gone, my bed—which had always seemed so tiny—felt vast. I flung my arm out, and ran my hand up and down the sheets, then rolled over and inhaled the place where he had been. My tiny apartment seemed to echo with emptiness. When Ian was here, he filled up the entire space. He was so massive, that when he walked, I swore the walls shook . He was the noisiest man I had ever met, too. His laugh made the glasses in the cupboards ring. When he fucked me, he rumbled dirty talk in a voice made for shouting over the noise of crowds, and when he came, he roared like a bull.

  It made me grateful that I lived on the ground floor.

  By the time the sun was peeking through the tiny sliver of curtain in my window, I was already up, dressed, and showered, and was working on my second cup of coffee. I figured there was nothing keeping me here, and I had a ton of work waiting for me at the office. Fucking Ian would make an early riser out of me yet.

  I stepped onto the front stoop of my building, and looked up at the gray skies, wondering if we were in for another snowstorm.

  Then something flashed bright white against my eyeballs. I stared stupidly upward. Was it going to be thunder snow today?

  Then the flash went off again and again, a bright staccato of light. I swore, and finally looked back down.

  A flashbulb went off right in my face.

  “Candace! Candace! Over here! Smile, Candace!” I blinked stupidly. Four cameras, fitted out with long, telephoto lenses. And behind them, four photographers, all shouting my name.

  “What the hell?” I grimaced, pressing myself against the building.

  “When is Ian coming back, Candace? What’s he like? Can you give us a quote?!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I grunted. I raised a middle finger to outflow of flashes, and then bolted down the street.

  “Candace!” Kyle exclaimed in surprise as I burst through the doors of Cupid’s Arrow. “You’re here early!” The CEO stood up at his desk and looked me up and down. “Are you okay?”

  I stalked over to my desk and flung my purse down, then sank into my chair. “Yes, I’m fine,” I sighed. Then I leaned forward, and buried my head in my hands. “Actually, I don’t know.” My heart was hammering in panic. Paparazzi now. Great. I had to share Ian with the fans, I knew that. But now I had endure having my privacy intruded on, as well?

  My boss came over and cowered at the entrance of my cubicle, wringing his hands. “Can I get you something? You take your coffee with sugar but no milk, right?” I blinked at him. “I mean, I don’t actually know how you take your coffee, sorry!” he laughed erratically. “I mean, maybe you don’t even like coffee—how would I know? I’m just trying to help here, so, er, can I get you some type of warm beverage? Coffee? Tea? You are a coffee girl, right?” He looked as panicked as I felt. “What do you need?”

  I sat back in my chair. “I don’t know,” I said. “I thought I knew. But now I have absolutely no idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ian

  The Blackhawks PR team has been a royal pain in my ass, ever since I joined the team. They never quite knew what to make of my attitude, or the girls I dated…or the fun I liked to have.

  But I will say this for them.

  They sure as fuck know how to put on a party.

  The offices of Cupid’s Arrow Dating Agency had been completely transformed. The cubicles that had covered the floor when I visited with the CEO must have been removed by some kind of magic, leaving vast open space, with a frankly amazing view of the Chicago River below us.

  If they could make this place look swanky, I was pretty sure they could do anything.

  Anything, that is, except make Bradley Scott look comfortable in a tuxedo.

  “Am I doing this shit right?” he grumbled, as I opened the door to the conference room-turned dressing room. He had twisted his tie—not even a bow tie, but just a regular necktie—into something resembling a hangman’s noose.

  “Dude, didn’t your father ever teach you how to tie a tie?” I demanded, yanking it off his neck and winding it around mine. I wasn’t about to go tying his ties for him while they were still on his neck. That was a little too close for comfort.

  “My dad never wore a tie in his life and you know it,” Brad complained. “How did you learn?”

  “Coach Randall, of course. I mean, for all the fuck we know, my dad could now be the CEO of some Fortune 500 company somewhere and wear ties every damn day, but he sure is shit wasn’t around to show me.” I finished the half Windsor, then loosened it up and pulled it over my head and handed it to Brad. “Here, just tighten it up.”

  Brad pulled the skinny end and promptly turned purple.

  “Not so tight, asshole,” I laughed. “Why are you such a fucking spaz tonight? I mean, more so than normal.”

  “Well, maybe you’re okay with the idea of being up on an auction block—and you’re a total failure as a best friend for not going up there with me, by the way—”

  “Can’t,” I grinned, spreading my hands in a whatcha gonna do? shrug. “If only I were a free man, I would. But I’m taken.”

  Brad glared at me. “I’m not exactly looking forward to it,” he finished.

  “Really?” This was news to me. Brad had been one of the most enthusiastic supporters of my plan.

  “I mean, it sounds good in theory.” He looked down, then to the right, then to the left, and finally stared directly down at my shoes.

  “Spit it out,” I commanded him.

  “Fuck it,” he complained. “What if nobody bids on me? That’s what’s bothering me, okay? What if nobody wants to go out on a date with me?”
<
br />   I started laughing loudly, but trailed off when I saw the anger on Brad’s face.

  “I guarantee you, you will be the highest selling Blackhawk on the auction block tonight,” I promised him, thumping him twice in the chest. “Even if I have to put in a secret bid myself.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Dear God, please, no. If you consider me a friend at all, do not do that.”

  “You’ll never know,” I chuckled. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger.”

  The party was already in full swing as we exited the conference room. The crush of people was so thick, all standing shoulder to shoulder, that for a second I panicked when I couldn’t find Candace.

  But then, like the clouds parting after a storm, she appeared before me like the ray of fucking sunshine she was.

  “I’m so nervous,” she whispered, as I pulled her close to me.

  “Don’t be,” I told her. “You showed me everything already, and it’s brilliant. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  She looked up at me. “Don’t you ever get the least bit nervous?” she demanded. “Like, before a game or a match or whatever the hell you call it?”

  I laughed. “Nope. Never,” I lied. “Because I know I’m good. And you’re good, too, so there’s no way you’re not going to do brilliantly.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is so easy.”

  She smiled and straightened her shoulders, but her smile was wan, and she looked a little pale. She went paler still when her tool of a CEO went up on the makeshift stage and tapped the microphone for attention.

  “Welcome, everyone,” he said, and I quickly tuned him out in my search for the drinks’ table. I only tuned back in again when he finished with the words, “Project leader Candace Hunter.”

  I made sure she heard me whooping and hollering over the noise of polite applause. She shot me a grateful smile, and then launched into her talk.

  She had already practiced her speech with me the night before. The data changes to the app had all been put into place, and I was proud—extra proud, as a matter of fact—that my suggestion of highlighting differences that would be compatible was their major improvement. In fact, it was the whole selling point, and drew murmurs of approval from the crowd. I grinned like a fool as I saw several members of the press nodding as they jotted down the takeaways.

  Candace consulted her notes, rattling off some facts and figures about user interfaces and streamlining, and I smiled so hard it felt like my face would break. That was my girl. That was my girl up there, and now that the paparazzi photos had hit, everyone knew that was exactly who she was.

  Mine.

  I still couldn’t believe my luck.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Candace

  “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” I concluded. “The charity auction will now begin!”

  There was a burst of raucous applause, and several distinctly feminine shouts and wolf whistles from the back corner. I definitely recognized Olivia’s as the loudest among them.

  The Blackhawks PR girl hopped onstage, followed by six of the team members who had agreed to be auctioned off.

  As I stepped off the makeshift stage, I look out over the crowd of my coworkers and partygoers, and was startled to spot a familiar face.

  “Donna!” I cried as I started to elbow my way towards her.

  My sister was clapping with glee by the time I made my way to her. “Holy shit! Candace!” she exclaimed. The engagement ring glittered like a beacon on her left hand. “This is amazing! Did you really put all of this together?”

  I leaned into her tight embrace. “Well, I had some help,” I demurred, blushing.

  Donna turned and looked at Tim, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “We just shelled out like a million dollars for a wedding planner,” she explained. “We should have just hired you.”

  I laughed. “Well, there might be a slight conflict of interest there,” I grinned. “Because I’m not letting you dress the bridesmaids in anything that would be unflattering for me.”

  “Or allowing us to serve tuna at the dinner,” Donna nodded.

  I wrinkled my nose at the mention of tuna. “Yeah, so maybe hiring a disinterested third party was the right move.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t believe it’s so close!”

  Donna looked slightly nauseous. “I know. But the venue had a cancellation, and it was exactly what we wanted at a discounted price. We had to make a jump on it, and quickly.”

  I nodded like I understood. Then sighed in relief when Ian showed up at my side.

  “Hey there, Tim,” Ian said enthusiastically, reaching out to shake Tim’s hand. “Good to see you again, buddy.”

  Tim looked vaguely awestruck. “Yes, you too.”

  “The big day is in three months!” I smiled, feeling more stable with Ian at my side. “Everything is happening so fast!”

  “It won’t be too big,” Donna protested. “Just the families. And some friends. The wedding party...my coworkers…”

  I grinned. “That’s starting to sound kind of big to me, Donna.”

  My sister buried her face in her hands. “I know! But every time I tried to pare down the guest list, I feel bad! It’s just, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, I just want everyone there!”

  I hid my wince at her use of the words ‘so long,’ and decided to smile instead. “Donna, everyone just wants to love on you and celebrate with you. It’s your day, stop worrying about whether Aunt Hilda feels slighted.” I rubbed her broad shoulder.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, and squared her shoulders. “I know, but I still want it to be perfect.”

  “It’s going to be great, I promise.”

  The two men made eye contact. Ian looked amused, and Tim looked a bit green around the gills. “You look like you need a drink, Tim,” Ian observed. “I know where they are. Follow me.”

  Tim practically sprinted behind him.

  “How’s he handling it?” I asked Donna, once her fiancée was out of earshot.

  She sighed. “He’s been—I dunno. Is numb the right word? Like, he’s there and he’s helping out, but he’s not really—I don’t know—there.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s like, he’s still moving around and talking, but someone hit the off switch in his brain.”

  I slung my arm around her shoulder. “He’s probably just stressed,” I said, as reassuringly as I could.

  She nodded, and then did this full-body shiver, the same thing she always did when she was trying to get past something that was bothering her. She looked up at the stage and smiled. “Man, if I weren’t engaged,” she muttered, as we both turned to watch the auction going on.

  The guy I recognized from that night in the bar—Ian had called him Jake—was drawing a really enthusiastic response. His chest seemed to puff out further with each successive bid, which had the add-on effect of making the bids come even faster.

  “I should probably go work,” I told Donna. “I need to be collecting the final bids once they’re in.”

  My sister nodded vaguely, her eyes fixed on the lineup of strapping hockey players strutting across the stage. I had to laugh. Yeah, she might be getting married, but she definitely wasn’t dead.

  The bidding was nearly done, and as I entered all of the winning totals into the spreadsheet I was running, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

  “You look happy,” Kyle said, sidling up beside me. He was dressed in his ever-present pleated khakis, but had marked the special occasion by donning an absolutely eye-watering amount of cologne.

  “I am!” I coughed. “We’ve raised over twenty fucking thousand dollars for charity!” I tapped a few keys, “And, holy shit, wow, the app is already up to over five thousand users, and is trending as a hashtag on Twitter.” I couldn’t help myself. I whirled and gave the startled Kyle a huge hug.

  “Ah, whoops! Okay, er—” Kyle pulled back, his eyes wide with fright. “I’m happy for you, um, for
us, Candace, but uh—” he darted a look over my shoulder. “Please don’t make Ian have to kick my ass, okay?”

  I pulled back and looked at him. “Ian wouldn’t kick your ass just for hugging me.” I said, confused.

  Kyle gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, well, he’s probably never shown you his temper, but I know how that guy came by his reputation as a hothead. Honestly, I don’t want to be on his bad side.” He backed away, swiping his hands repeatedly down the pleated front of his khakis. “Uh, congratulations, Candace, I’m just going to—um, go now.” He disappeared into the crowd.

  I stood there, just blinking, for several moments. When I felt a hand slide around my waist, I yelped and nearly jumped a mile.

  “Hey, settle down, pretty lady. Do you need another drink?” Ian smiled, pulling me closer.

  I smiled back at him, trying not to betray my confusion, but he could tell immediately. “You okay?”

  I nodded, deciding to brush off Kyle’s odd behavior for now. Tonight was a night for celebration.

  “Yeah, I just can’t believe it. Everything worked out so well!” I stood up on my tiptoes, and brushed my lips across his. He answered with a hungry growl and nipped at my lower lip. I bopped him lightly on the nose. “Simmer down, big boy. I still need to make sure all of the winning bidders are paired off with their Blackhawks,” I admonished him when he moved in for a deeper kiss.

  “How about we do some matchmaking of our own?” Ian murmured.

  I batted his hands away, and turned back to my computer. “Oh my gosh, Ian, you have to look at this,” I pointed at the screen.

  “What am I looking at here?” He leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Wait. Is that Brad’s name?”

  I nodded. “And right next to him? Read that name.”

  “Olivia Bryant?” He looked up at me, a slowly dawning smile of realization on his lips. “Fertilize-my-eggs, Olivia?”

  I nodded, clapping in glee. “Brad’s your best friend, Olivia is my best friend—oh my gosh, I feel like I’ve just hit the fairy godmother-level status of matchmaking. This is like, the pinnacle of my achievements!”