He wanted it all.
“I’m listening,” Nick said, keeping his voice low. This wasn’t the first time Jared had come to him with a plan, and they usually ended up running the other team ragged and winning the entire game.
“I’m going to need you to be on top of it. I know you’re tired. You’ve been running this entire time and I’ll keep you running in the second half if I have my way. But we can make this work and kick their asses. I feel it. We just need to get into a rhythm.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Nick encouraged, and Jared proceeded to do exactly that. And the more Jared talked, the more Nick came on board. A team’s quarterback was usually their leader, and Jared was no exception. He was by far the best leader any team could ask for. He not only helped them all reach success with intelligent plays, he brought the team together as one cohesive unit.
He was also a nice guy and treated everyone fairly. Had a few lady problems in his past but the love of a good woman—Sheridan—straightened him up right and good. Now the bastard was on top of the world and nothing could keep him down. Not even this damn game they were losing. If he decided they were gonna win it, then damn it, the man could make it happen.
If Nick thought about it too long and hard, he could end up jealous. Jared Quinn had it all. And at this very moment, Nick felt as if he had nothing.
Once they’d gone over their plan and talked with a few other teammates, they went back out to play the second half, where they boldly ran onto that field full of confidence and scored almost immediately. It was as if every member of the Hawks finally grew their balls back and remembered how to play.
Nick reveled in the rush of his team scoring a field goal. Then out of nowhere, in a mighty struggle, they scored a touchdown. By the end of the fourth quarter, they were only one touchdown away, and the Hawks were once again in possession of the ball.
In a no-huddle offense, Jared was giving him that look. The one that said he wanted to pass the ball to Nick in the next play. The subtle nod, the flick of his head, it was all a signal Jared gave that Nick recognized immediately. Sometimes he waited anxiously for it. Other times, his gut twisted, and he worried he wouldn’t be able to catch the miracle throw that would come after Jared shouted the play call.
Well, bring it. Didn’t feel any nerves or worry over that fuckin’ ball today. He was revved up, anxious, ready to play his ass off yet again. Hell, he’d been going at maximum speed the entire game, smiling big for the fans as they cheered him on, nodding in agreement with whatever the coaches told him to do.
Scary how he didn’t have Willow in his life again and he played…better? His personal life was a wreck but his professional life was back on top. And so that meant he played a better game? Made no damn sense.
More than anything, it scared the hell out of him.
“Get your head outta your ass, Hamilton, and get ready!” Jared screamed at him as they got into position.
“Yes boss.” Nick crouched as he got into position, his brain going blank, his focus on this very moment. Jared called his play; everyone shifted and moved, the other team coming at them like they wanted to tear them apart.
Nick ran, turning so he could see Jared. The QB was poised, ready. He searched the field until he spotted Nick and then he reared his arm back, the ball sailing through the air so precisely Nick gained a few feet before he turned, his arms out and cradled, ready to catch that damn ball.
It landed in his hands as if it had a magnet nestled within and his palms were made of steel.
No one was around. Not a single damn soul, and so he took off. Headed straight down the field, the home crowd’s roaring growing louder, the roar of his own blood pounding in his ears. He picked up speed, almost afraid to glance up at the Jumbotron for fear he’d see someone was hot on his tail.
But he heard nothing except his own breaths and the rumble from the stands, and he knew he was gonna score.
Nick ran across the line and did a little victory dance, his other teammates coming at him, all of them jumping up and down in victory, slapping his ass, calling him names. Adrenaline coursed through him as he jogged off the field, high-fiving whoever held out his hand, running into Jared’s embrace, laughing as Jared clutched him close and rapped his knuckles on the side of Nick’s helmet.
“Knew you had that one, man. Fucking amazing,” Jared said, shaking his head as he stepped away.
“You’re the one who threw the ball into my hands like you knew where I was all along. How the hell do you do that shit?” Nick yanked off his helmet and grinned.
Jared shrugged, his usual modest self. “We’re a good team,” he said simply.
Hell yeah, they were.
The Hawks went on to win it, no surprise. Their defensive line was one of the best in the league, and they held the opposing team for those last two minutes, winding down the clock until victory was theirs.
Yet another defining moment in Nick’s career. The media bombarded him with questions. ESPN interviewed him. The local channel’s head sports guy kept him on the mic for almost five minutes. He felt like a fuckin’ superstar.
He felt empty.
Watching Sheridan smother Jared with kisses made him realize that what he really wanted was his woman back in his life. For good. He was tired of the fight. Tired of letting her go without protest. Sick and damn tired of giving up too damn easy. For once, he was gonna fight for what he wanted. Who he wanted.
And he wanted Willow.
He’d always wanted Willow.
Chapter Fifteen
“This party is off the chain!”
Willow barely restrained her eye rolling and smiled at the drunk woman gyrating in front of the bar. “A drink, miss?”
“Hell yeah! Give me another one of those bed head drinks!” The woman wouldn’t stop screaming, but maybe that was because the music was so damn loud. Willow had a headache, and they were barely halfway through the bachelorette party for Amanda Whitmore.
Willow waved her hand at Colby, the kid she’d hired to work for her on the weekends. He was her resident bartender, considering he had extensive experience leading boozy parties at his fraternity.
No joke. She hired him for his frat party experience. The kid could handle drunken women with ease.
“What’s up boss?” He grinned, looking quite pleased as he scanned the room. It was wall to wall with people, the majority of them attractive women in their twenties, and Willow was sure he thought he’d landed smack dab in the middle of heaven.
“Make this lady another bed head cocktail.” Willow leaned in close to Colby so only he could hear her. “And make sure you use half the alcohol it calls for. She’s beyond hammered.”
“Got it.” He nodded and went to work making the drink, engaging the loud woman in small talk.
Willow watched the people, her head sweating as she pushed the synthetic hair away from her face. She still couldn’t believe she was wearing the damn wig. Somehow Amanda had convinced her father that their new venture needed a small line of novelty-type wigs, and somehow Phil Whitmore had convinced Willow to wear one. More like begged her to, since he believed it would help business if she wore a product from the newly opened Wig It.
So here she stood, hot as hell in her requisite black outfit she wore for the more formal events, her black glasses on and her thick hair tucked beneath a neon pink wig that curled around her face and made her cheeks look fat.
Shit. The lengths a woman went to for a paycheck.
The countersigned paperwork for the lease on the building had arrived just before she left for Vegas, the lower lease price included and everything, just as he promised—reminding her that yes, he was a good guy. And yes, she was an idiot for letting him go.
At least work had been keeping her so busy she went home every night exhausted and collapsing into bed. Didn’t leave her much time to dwell on how much she missed Nick.
Her heart ached just thinking his name. She missed him, but she refused to contact
him. Besides, he was just as busy. And he was probably on a plane by now on his way home to see his mama for the holidays.
She rubbed her forehead, the fake hair making it itch. She’d give anything to chuck the stupid wig and flush it down the toilet.
“The party is a smashing success, don’t you think?”
Willow glanced up to find Phil standing in front of the bar, a big smile on his face. “I can’t believe how many people came,” she said.
“I must agree. After all, it’s right before Christmas. But I think they all like the idea of getting away for a quick Vegas weekend before the family insanity starts.” He winked at her, and she smiled in return. “Plus, they’re all eager to check out our new business. We’ve already pulled in a steady amount of sales.”
She couldn’t freaking believe it. The wigs were cheesy and the extensions weren’t the best quality, but they were actually sort of fun. Like her pink hair, she supposed.
“Thanks for wearing the wig,” he said for about the tenth time. “I know it’s hot.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I tried to get Mandy to wear one but she refused.”
“Mr. Whitmore, it’s her bachelorette party. The last thing she wants to do is wear a wig,” Willow chastised.
He shook his head. “She said the same exact thing.” Sighing, he watched his daughter dancing in the middle of the room, her hands in the air. “She hasn’t worked a single minute tonight besides standing next to the table of products and smiling for a few photographs.”
Willow said nothing. Was the man surprised? He knew what he was getting into when he made this arrangement.
“At least you seem to be an enterprising young woman. I’m sure your father is very proud of you,” Phil said with a nod.
“Thank you, sir.” Surprisingly, she realized she missed her dad, though she shouldn’t be surprised considering it was the holidays, and who else would she spend them with? Funny how she could forgive him for his faults so quickly yet hold a grudge against Nick for what felt like forever. Whereas Nick had seemingly ditched her as fast as he could, her dad had always been there for her. They were a team, the two of them. They always had been.
Yeah, he’d ruined her relationship with Nick, but he’d done it to protect her. She could forgive him for that. Ultimately, they were all each other had.
She wished she were with him. With no Christmas Day plans scheduled whatsoever, she wasn’t quite sure what she would do. Sheridan had extended the expected invitation but Willow hadn’t committed.
Maybe it would be better if she were alone so she could sulk and wallow in her thoughts and her loss.
Damn it, she wanted Nick back. She missed him so much her entire body ached with wanting him. He made her laugh. He made her angry. He made her smile. Oh, and he made her pant out his name when she came…
Yeah. She flat out missed him. Had never really stopped missing him, even after all of these years. But this breakup was even worse, because she knew he felt the same way. They were too stubborn, too fucked up to make it happen for real.
Sighing, she shook her head. Fine, she was the one who screwed it up. Who was too scared to give him a second chance. She couldn’t blame him for walking out. She would’ve done the same.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Phil said, interrupting her thoughts. “Though I did want to give you this before I forgot.”
He handed over an envelope, which she took with a frown. “You already paid your balance, Mr. Whitmore.”
“I know. It’s a bonus.” He flicked his chin at the crumpled envelope she clutched in her hands. “For all your hard work.”
“Thank you.” She smiled tremulously as he walked away, then tore open the envelope and peeked inside.
Holy. Shit. There had to be at least ten hundred dollar bills nestled within. Talk about generous.
“Let’s go hit the tables with all that cash,” Colby suggested, sidling up beside her after he served yet another drunk woman.
“You wish.” She stuffed the envelope in her front pocket. “This all goes right back into the business.”
“Party pooper,” Colby said with a smile then headed over to a cluster of people who had just approached the bar.
A cheesy Christmas song came on, the DJ spinning the tunes cranking it up to near-deaf decibels, and Willow realized one good thing about the wig: it muffled sound somewhat.
But not enough.
It seemed as if every partygoer was on the dance floor, jumping to the beat of the perky holiday tune. Just watching them filled Willow with irritation, and she leaned against the bar counter, her elbow resting on the edge, her chin propped on her curved hand. She was starving, and she was exhausted, which made her even more irritated. Considering they still had hours to go, she was in for a long night.
And then she had to turn around and fly home first thing tomorrow. Thank God, the flight wasn’t that long, but why in the world had she scheduled it so early? And what was she going home to, anyway? A cold, empty house? So depressing.
Merry freaking Christmas.
The cheery song segued from one to another by some boy band, and the crowd went wild, yelling and screaming as they bounced up and down. Even Colby was dancing behind the counter, shaking his head to the beat, mouthing the words to the song.
She wanted to roll her eyes but couldn’t be bothered with it. She’d turned into the ultimate Scrooge.
The crowd suddenly parted and more than a few people started chatting animatedly, waving their hands, standing on tiptoe as if they were trying to see something. The song abruptly ended, and the crowd stopped dancing as the DJ made an announcement.
“Looks like we have an unexpected special guest this evening, folks! San Jose Hawks football star, Nick Hamilton!”
Willow’s arm went out from under her on the counter and she stood straight, glancing around the room. Did the DJ really say Nick was here? But where? And what the hell was he doing here?
Anticipation rode through her, and she tried to squash it down. She was probably hallucinating. Just because the man was constantly in her thoughts didn’t mean she could magically make him appear.
The crowd parted, and there he stood, like he was Moses or something, wearing jeans and his trusty faded Hawks hoodie, his mouth grim, his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes. He looked both terrible and wonderful all at once.
He was the best thing she’d ever seen.
Wordlessly he approached her, his brows furrowed, his mouth curled down. He stopped just before her, everyone watching them, the crowd silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Even the boisterous DJ was quiet.
“Darlin’, is that you?” He tilted his head. “What the hell are you doing wearing that silly wig?”
…
Well, hell, what happened to his woman? She looked ridiculous in the pink wig, her cheeks flushed, her eyes a little wild, sweat dotting her forehead.
She was hot—and not in the sexy, drive him wild way. No, Willow was literally hot. Sweating her ass off hot.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice raspy.
“I came to find you,” he said simply, because really it was as simple as that.
He missed her. He wanted her back in his life. And he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Why?”
“We won our game today,” he said, changing the subject. He needed to tell her this. Needed to get everything off his chest.
“That’s great,” she said, her brows scrunched in that way they got when she was confused.
“I scored the winning touchdown. Caught it and ran it down the field. Seventy-two-yard pass,” he said proudly. It had been the fucking play of his life.
“That’s amazing.” The genuine smile she gave him made his heart lurch. Fuck, he would’ve killed to see that smile only a few hours ago, and now here she was.
Wearing a pink wig? That sort of threw him.
“What’s up with the hair,
Will?”
“I’ll explain later.” She waved a hand at the crowd—who were all still watching—then pointed at the DJ. “Play a song, damn it! This is a party, people want to dance!”
The guy did as she asked, most of the crowd starting to move again, though a few still watched them.
“So you came all the way to Vegas to tell me you won your game?” She sounded incredulous, not that he could blame her.
“Well, that was part of it.” He’d been high as hell coming off that field. He’d felt like a damn hero. He’d been ready to celebrate, on top of the world.
And missing his woman more than life itself.
She scratched her neck. He bet that wig itched like crazy. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” she asked. “I mean, we’re surrounded right now.”
“I don’t care who hears what I have to say. I gotta get it off my chest.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve missed you, Willow. More than I can say. When I won that game and came off the field, ready to celebrate the play of my life, I felt…lost.”
She stared at him, not saying a word.
“I let you go before without a fight, like a coward. I let your father walk all over me, and I hate that. Hate that I hurt you so bad.”
He took a deep breath, scared that she still wasn’t talking. His Willow loved to talk. Argue. Prove him wrong. Maybe that she wasn’t speaking was a good sign?
“I’m ready to fight for you now. I want you to be mine. Only mine. I’m so damn sorry for what happened. That you feel like I tried to force you into admitting we’re in a relationship when you weren’t ready. That you believe I did this all like some sort of weird, twisted game where I used you to get back at your dad or whatever. I wanted to earn your trust and instead, I tried to bully you into a relationship, and you don’t work like that. No woman would.” He stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing her hand. Her fingers were cold in his grip. “That’s the last time I leave you, even if you kick me out the fucking door. My life is flat out not right without you by my side. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I need you. I’m not complete without you.”
Game for Trouble Page 16