PASS INTERFERENCE (Gods of the Gridiron Book 3)

by Shanna Swenson

  Pax had never looked anything like his adoptive father—what with his bright blond hair and sky-blue eyes. He had deeply tanned skin, while his father was fair, freckled, and red-headed. Even as a child, Paxton had noticed the many differences in them and questioned it. His mother, Hawaiian by birth, had never confirmed nor denied exactly why Glenn left when Pax had asked her, but it had destroyed them both when he filed for divorce and walked out of their lives. It was a raw wound in Paxton’s open heart.

  His mother had come clean by the time Pax was fifteen about his adoption, but it hadn’t mattered. In his eyes, he was an unwanted child, abandoned by both his biological parents and the man who’d raised him until he was eleven—whether he was genetically his or not, it had cut Paxton to the core.

  Since then, he’d not had a steady relationship—nor any relationship, really—save for with his mom and uncle Kawai, his mother’s brother.

  It had been awkward at first. Pax had so much anger after his father left him that anyone in the way took the brunt of it. But Uncle Kawai was tough, took no shit from him, and pushed him into football to get his focus on something physical and out of the trouble he knew Pax would’ve gotten into had he not had an outlet to focus his anger. At the time, Pax threw the love he tried to show him back in Kawai’s face at every turn. Now he was one of his best friends. Kawai was the reason Paxton Guthrie had become a legend, a god of the gridiron, all because he hadn’t given up on the violent, broken little boy—the one whose father would never love him.

  Now, he pulled himself from the jacuzzi and cut the jets off, feeling like the biggest son of a bitch in the world.

  By the next morning, Pax had had time to figure out what he might say to Rebecca.

  He showered early and came downstairs for breakfast, hoping to see her and apologize for his brutish behavior the night prior.

  She looked as beautiful as always, hair up in a ponytail, glasses on, reading a book the size of Texas as she dined on fruit, eggs, and a croissant that took up half the plate. Her porcelain skin was slightly exposed, her cream tank top highlighting the subtleties between the two colors beneath a rust-colored cardigan. Did the woman own anything that wasn’t a sweater?

  “Morning,” he said as he took the seat next to her. Sonia met him with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate. “Thanks, Sonia.”

  “Of course, Mr. Guthrie.”

  He smiled over at Becca, who wasn’t looking at him. She appeared entranced in the novel. He tried again. “Did you sleep well?”

  Finally, searing emerald eyes met his over the top of her book. “Don’t you know that when a book is open, your mouth is to be closed?”

  “Ouch,” he leered. I guess I deserve that after the mind-blowing orgasms in the hot tub, huh?

  “I apologize.” She puckered her lips and closed the book, dramatically—in his opinion—laying it down on the table. “I should’ve waited, but it was getting exciting as—” She looked off, bashfully, and he couldn’t help but smile at her.

  It was good to see her so passionate, regarding anything, but a book in particular.

  “What’s it about?”

  “Oh, it’s the fifth book in the Outlander series—The Fiery Cross.”

  “There are books, too?” he asked in surprise.

  She frowned at him as if he’d been hiding under a rock, he blushed. “Don’t tell me. I’m only on Season 2. They’re in France.”

  “Oh, you have a-ways to go then.”

  He smiled as he took a bite of his croissant. When he swallowed, he said, “So, I’ve been thinking… What if we host a party?”

  “A party?”

  “Yeah, a way to introduce one another. To more than just my close friends. To the whole team and your friends, too. Halloween is Saturday, and we have a Thursday game next week, so that will be our off day.”

  “You want to have a big party in seven days?”

  “Why not? It’ll be fun. We can dress up!”

  “I dunno, Pax. I—”

  “You’re an introvert, I get it. But it will be fun, I promise. We can be Claire and Jamie. I’ll get a kilt and a wig and…”

  Becca was laughing hysterically. “Oh my goodness. You’d wear a kilt?”

  “Sure. It’s Halloween. I’ll even go without my skivvies, just so it can be true about what they wear beneath them.” He winked and her eyes changed for a moment before she looked down, her cheeks as red as the strawberry jam on his pastry. “Speaking of. I’m sorry about last night…well, embarrassing you, anyway. I didn’t mean to.”

  She finally looked up and smiled. “It’s alright.”

  “I don’t regret any of it, I want you to know that. I just— Well, I wish I would have been more prepared.”

  “No way to prepare for a twenty-four-year-old virgin,” she smarted.

  “You make it sound like you’re forty. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin at twenty-four, nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not ashamed, just…” She looked away again. “I’m proud of being a virgin.”

  “Well, good. As you should be,” he replied and took her hand. “Becca, millions of people regret their first time, myself included. I did it because all my friends were and I didn’t want to be ‘uncool.’ You have something that few of us ever get; the power to really choose for yourself who you give yourself to the first time.”

  “I wanted it to be special. Call me a dreamer, naïve, whatever. I wanted to give my virginity to someone who deserves it, not just get rid of it at the first opportunity.”

  “That wouldn’t be me then.” Pax frowned, knowing he wouldn’t have deserved a gift so valuable. Though he hadn’t taken her virginity—well, not yet anyway—he’d taken something just as precious.

  “And how do you know I’ve not been saving myself for you and you alone, Paxton Guthrie?” His brows went up in answer, surprised by the boldness of her statement. “Do you know how many posters I have of you on my walls?”

  Was she being serious? He couldn’t tell. Her intelligence far exceeded his own. He smiled though when her dark brow rose. “I’m gonna guess at least ten,” he answered.

  Becca didn’t reply, but her porcelain cheeks turned red as her eyes lowered.

  “A twenty-four-year-old virgin, eh?” He winked. “Do you have one of those special candles we get to light on Halloween night?”

  She laughed out loud. “This isn’t Salem, but I’m sure I could find one… if that will bring you to my bed.”

  Mmm, he wanted to be in her bed, even if he didn’t deserve it. “It wouldn’t take much to bring me to your bed, Sassenach.”

  “Oh God, please don’t say that word like that.” She moaned. “Holy mother—” She fidgeted in her seat and pulled her lips in—and he was growing an instant erection at her reaction.

  “Damn, sweetness. I didn’t realize I’d get that kinda response out of you. Now, I’m going online right this minute and ordering a kilt.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to do just that, but Becca grabbed at his hand.

  “I think you should be Poseidon for Samhain, not Jamie.”

  “I don’t think so… Poseidon won’t score me the points that a kilt and highlander gear will. Not after you practically came at the word—”

  “Don’t say it again.”

  He smirked and looked her over, wanting to feast on her even more than the food that was in front of him. “Rebecca Ryan, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, naia?

  “You have no idea.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes raked her over. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  “I’ll just bet you would. Play your cards right and you will. Now, order a costume for Poseidon. I have my own surprise in store if it’s a Halloween costume party you want.”

  With that, she winked, stood, grabbed her book, and walked off, leaving him to gape at the tight little mini skirt she wore. It was red plaid and made her look like a delectable little schoolgirl.

  Fuck! She was so damn hot,
and he fantasized about what lay beneath that pleated skirt.

  That thought would drive him nuts all day.

  On Sunday, they watched the game together. Pax felt resentful and annoyed that he wasn’t there with his team. But Becca was on the couch with him, cheering and rooting them on alongside him, which made the ache a little easier to bear.

  The Gladiators won against Houston, but only by a field goal. The game was a teeth-clencher the whole time, and he and Becca realized how long they’d been holding their breaths when it was over because they both collapsed in relief.

  They’d spent the remainder of the day planning out their party for Saturday and figuring out their guest list. It was gonna be fun, and Pax was looking forward to it. They worked out around three PM. Later that night, they watched the Packers vs. Bears game. He got a treat he wasn’t used to eating during football season—blackened Mahi-Mahi tacos and fries—courtesy of Hooters off GrubHub.

  On Monday, Becca went back to work. Pax got an early call telling him that his suspension was over and that he could come back to the complex at eleven for their team meeting. Wednesday would be a half practice, since their game was on Thursday. Pax was pumped that he was back at it, ready to prove himself.

  He strolled through the halls like a bird uncaged, his mood lighter than it had been since his fall from grace. He was brought up to speed on the plan for Thursday’s game during the meeting. Following a vigorous workout, Pax changed and was heading out to the field to practice with the defense when he noticed a newly-hung sign above the tunnel.

  “An invincible determination can accomplish almost anything and in this lies the great distinction between great men and little men. —Thomas Fuller,” it read.

  “That’s a cool message,” he stated, thinking aloud.

  “Yeah, Quil found it. He said it fit our theme this year.” Brett shrugged with a grin.

  Pax nodded to his QB and his chin rose as he patted the sign and strolled out to crush his routes.

  After practice, he showered and told the guys his plans for a Halloween party.

  “A Halloween party?” Trav replied eagerly. “Sounds like a blast. Let’s do it!” He gave Pax a high five.

  TJ was on board too, and they encouraged Brett, who was unsure due to his wife’s recent grumpiness.

  “Oh, c’mon. It’ll be fun,” Linc insisted.

  Quil looked like he might barf, and Pax patted him on the back. “Now, Hades, don’t look so grim.”

  That got a laugh out of all of them, and Trav put his finger up as if to say, “Eureka.”

  “Hey, that’s what we should do. Dress up like our god names.” He rubbed his bearded chin in thought. “My future wife is gonna make one fine Aphrodite.”

  “What the heck does Lazarus even dress like? I’m gonna look like an idiot,” Linc grumbled.

  “Nah, you’ll figure something out. Be creative. I can’t wait for you guys to see my Poseidon costume,” Pax replied, happily.

  “Do I have to dress up?” Quil’s scowl deepened.

  “Oh, c’mon, chicken shit. If I have to wear this stupid wig with lightning bolts,” Brett retorted and pointed to the Zeus costume he’d found online on his phone, “then yes, you have to dress up, too. Hell, you’re Hades, wear a damn black cloak and bring a scythe.”

  “No, it has to be legit. No cheatin’,” Trav scolded.

  “Fine,” Quil whined. “Is this kid friendly? You know my hija will want to trick-or-treat first.”

  “Yeah, the twins too. It’s their first Halloween where they’re old enough to know what’s going on,” Linc agreed.

  “Sure, bring ‘em. I’ll have a room set up for the kids to play and hire some good baby-sitters. This way the adults can play,” Pax recommended.

  “And play we shall.” TJ’s brows bobbed and he nodded.

  Once Pax left the complex around three, he headed to Rebecca’s museum. He wanted to see his girl, so he parked and walked up to the old brick structure off the main road. He’d just headed inside when he saw her talking to a large group; she was about to lead a tour, so he quickly paid for a ticket and joined them, pulling his ball cap down tighter on his head to be as inconspicuous as possible.

  She gave him a wink, noticing him right away, and beckoned everyone forward, stopping to discuss the remnants of Civil War memorabilia in the first room.

  “As you know, the Civil War was one of the bloodiest stains in America’s history and some of it was actually fought in our backyard.”

  She spoke of the Battle at Chickamauga, the first major battle on Georgia soil with the second highest casualties following Gettysburg. Then about the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain and how strenuous the trek up the mountain was while hauling both horses and heavy cannons atop wagons. Pax looked around at all the uniforms, both Confederate and Union, the leftover tins, bullets, and muskets displayed in cases with backdrops of maps. It stilled him to think about brother fighting brother. He thought perhaps he and Becca should take a hike up the mountain next weekday; he’d never been.

  They next moved into a room where arrowheads, tomahawks and headdresses, and the wardrobe of a Cherokee warrior were displayed on a wax mannequin. Becca gave them a rundown of the Georgia Indian War of 1782, then they moved on into a separate room where a primitive human was displayed along with cave drawings. A giant sea creature greeted guests on one wall of the next room, a sasquatch on another. The next rooms housed Egyptian hieroglyphs and Roman Empire memorabilia. All the while, Rebecca wove a fascinating tale about the ancient contents behind the glass. She was an enthralling storyteller, dropping and raising her voice as if acting out a clandestine play. She was animated and answered each question brought to her. Pax had never felt more captivated in all his life. She knew her craft and knew it well. When she let the patrons explore an opening room displaying everything from planets to insects, he moved forward to speak to her.

  “Well, well, Ms. Ryan, history has never been hotter, I don’t think.”

  “I hope I wasn’t too boring.” She blushed and looked down at the heeled-toe she jutted out.

  “Boring? On the contrary, m’lady. If I’d had a history teacher as sexy and mesmerizing as you are, then I definitely would’ve paid more attention in class.”

  “Did you learn anything aside from my bra size, Mr. Guthrie?” she scolded.

  He leaned in and whispered, “I’ve had your plump breasts in my hands, sweetness. I don’t need your bra size.”

  She gaped as he pulled back and winked.

  “Besides, I was actually paying attention to the stories, believe it or not…while also admiring your ass in this pencil skirt.”

  “Pax,” she scolded and swatted his hand away.

  “Seriously, this is great.” He gestured as he looked around. “I can tell you’re passionate about your work. You’re a wonderful storyteller.”

  “Thanks, but you’re probably just biased.”

  “Maybe so, but still. If I wasn’t into history before, I am now for sure.” He gave her a knowing smile, and her porcelain cheeks reddened further.

  Just then, a strange-looking man in a hooded sweater came up and cleared his throat. “Rebecca, you were wonderful as always.”

  “Oh, why thank you, Jeremiah.”

  The man Becca referred to as Jeremiah eyed Pax with suspicious, angry brown eyes that he narrowed. He gave Pax the once-over as he said, “You must be the fiancé.”

  “I am. Indeed. Tagging along to see my beauty in all her glory.”

  “Never seen you in here before.” The answer was leading, but Pax didn’t take the bait.

  “Paxton Guthrie. It’s good to meet you, Mr.…?” Pax extended his hand to introduce himself.

  The stranger didn’t take it, looking as if Pax had presented him with a handful of shit. Pax pulled his hand back, grateful the weirdo hadn’t shaken it.

  “Rebecca, you look lovely as always. I’ll see you later.”

  With that, Jeremiah walked off, leaving Pax with a k
not in his gut; the guy was a total freak.

  “I don’t like him,” Pax grumbled as he took Becca’s hand in his.

  “Yeah, me either, but not much I can do about it.”

  “Does he come here often?”

  “At least once a week,” she confessed.

  “Just don’t ever let yourself be alone with that weirdo.” Pax looked over to see that Jeremiah had stopped at the wooly mammoth display and was glancing back at them with a nasty scowl on his face.

  “Becoming the protective bridegroom, are ye?”

  “Hell yeah, I am. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  “Jealous much?” Becca giggled, and he stroked her palm.

  “Very. You’re mine, little naia. Poseidon doesn’t share.”

  Rebecca giggled again. “Well, Poseidon, you should put your trident away. My boss might not like your closeness during the public tour.”

  “Mmm, do I get a private one later, then?”

  “Do you want one?” The green eyes that scorched his made him hot all over.

  “Don’t tease, Amphitrite. Poseidon is a furious god, after all.”

  Rebecca all out laughed then, the sound echoing through the halls, making her blush red once more. She pulled her lips in and looked down before finally saying, “So, you did some research did you, sea god?”

  “I did. She’s Poseidon’s queen.”

  Becca’s face grew serious and she cleared her throat, pulling her hand from his. “Well, I should mingle for a moment, see if anyone has any questions. I’m off in a half hour. Wanna meet me out front then?” She was dismissing him.

  What had he said? He didn’t sulk, for Pax wasn’t one for sulking. He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Keep looking around. You might find some other areas of interest.” She winked and turned to walk into the crowd of people.

  Pax watched her. So professional. So classic. So beautiful. So perfect. How was this woman still single? It blew his mind even as he rounded the bones of a brontosaurus that took up the expanse of the room so he could still follow her with his eyes. He was still leery of the psycho man who also continued to watch her with growing interest, making Poseidon’s fury rage within.