After All These Years (One Pass Away #2)

by Mary J. Williams

  “Riley.”

  Score one for her. Proverbially, her father blinked first.

  “Father.”

  Again, Riley waited. She enjoyed his surprise when he took in her appearance. Gerald would see the sleek, dark hair, the expensive dove gray leather jacket, and tailored wool pants. Her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her large, blue eyes.

  What he didn’t see—what he refused to see—was a strong, intelligent professional. Gone was the rag-tag college student who had haunted the corners of the stadium. She looked like what she was. A businesswoman to be reckoned with.

  “That was quite an entrance.” Gerald removed his reading glasses. “I had hoped your time away would have matured you. Apparently, I hoped in vain.”

  Riley smiled. Her father wanted to put her on the defensive? He was about to find out how much she had changed.

  “Logan Price.”

  Her father raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

  “The Knights are going to issue him an official invitation to next year’s training camp.”

  “Ah.” Gerald sat back in his chair. The smile on his face condescendingly familiar. “I didn’t realize Benson was such a whiney little girl. Did he cry on your shoulder?”

  “Issue the invitation,” Riley said calmly.

  “No,” Gerald responded. “You have more shares, Riley. Not more power.”

  Riley smiled. Her father didn’t realize it, but he was setting this up perfectly.

  “And that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Power. The team brings non-roster invitees into camp all the time. Normally you wouldn’t blink an eye.”

  “True,” Gerald drew out the word.

  “You get pleasure from slapping people down. When it’s someone you dislike, you revel in it.”

  “I admit, there is a certain satisfaction in taking Gaige Benson down a peg or two.” Gerald sneered. “The man has an overinflated opinion of himself. He’s an aging quarterback on a mediocre team.”

  “He’s a quarterback at the top of his game who has no protection on his offensive line and no running game. That’s on management, not him.”

  “Logan Price won’t fix that.” Riley could tell she’d hit a nerve.

  “Draft better. That will help plug the holes on the line. Gaige believes Logan Price is worth a look. So do I.”

  “Why? You think the knee he blew out a few years ago is magically better? He tried to come back. It didn’t work.”

  “If it doesn’t work out, so what?” Riley knew her father wasn’t going to budge. He rarely changed his mind because no one had the power to make him. Until now.

  “The board could overturn your decision.”

  “They could,” Gerald conceded. “But they won’t. I have their full support. You would only embarrass yourself if you called for a vote.”

  “One of us will be embarrassed,” Riley said smoothly. “It won’t be me.”

  For the first time, Riley had Gerald’s full attention. His blue eyes met hers. The color was one of the few things they had in common. That and his dark hair. She had her mother’s build. She had inherited her grandfather’s temperament and business savvy. Watching her father’s eyes narrow with growing concern, she realized the color of their eyes really was the only thing they shared.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have to.” Riley crossed her legs. The tension in the room grew—and it all came from him. “Not that you noticed, but I graduated from college three years ago. Did you once stop to wonder what I’ve been doing all this time?”

  “No.”

  Give the man points for honesty. Riley shook her head. In the face of his power crumbling around him, Gerald refused to cower. Good for him. He could stand tall as his ship sank. Right now, the water was waist high and rising fast.

  “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you.”

  “Sarcasm?” Gerald scoffed. “Didn’t they teach you better than that at Harvard?”

  “I started my own business.” Riley ignored her father’s taunt. “A consulting firm. In my spare time, I mentor young women who want to be entrepreneurs.”

  “Fascinating.” It was obvious Gerald wasn’t impressed.

  “Between consulting and mentoring, I’m working with over half of the board members.”

  “You don’t say.” Gerald shifted in his seat.

  Feeling the heat? Riley wondered. “It’s called networking. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Getting their votes would have been simple. All it would have taken was a gentle reminder that one day, in the not so distant future, I’ll be running the team. However, that would have been the easy way out.”

  “God forbid you sink to that.”

  “Sarcasm? Tsk, tsk.” Riley watched the color rise on her father’s face. “I want allies, not lackeys.”

  The implication hung between them. Her father hired yes-men. His opinion was all that counted.

  “I’ve earned their respect and loyalty with hard work.”

  “Money is everyone’s bottom line, Riley.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve made them a lot of that, too.”

  “In other words, I’m fucked.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” Her father didn’t use that kind of language often. She had broken through the final wall of resistance. “You have two choices. Fight me. Or work with me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Stay on as president of the Knights. No one has to know about this little power play. I don’t want to run the Knights. Not yet.”

  “No?” Gerald’s laugh held little humor. “Funny; that isn’t how it feels.”

  “There’s a reason Grandpa chose thirty instead of giving me the team when I graduated from college. He knew it would become my obsession—to the exclusion of everything else.” Riley’s expression softened. “I’ve had the chance to build a life away from here. I’m ready to bring football back into my life—gradually. There is still a lot I plan to do before I take over the team full time.”

  Maybe marriage. A child. She didn’t share that with her father. Or mention the man whose face popped into her head when she thought of who would share those things with her. No! Absolutely not. Sean McBride had no part in her future except as a football player.

  Riley was so shaken by her wayward thoughts, she missed part of what her father was saying.

  “It’s a game.” Gerald slammed his hand onto his desk, inadvertently regaining her full attention. “He never understood that.”

  “You never understood.” Riley wasn’t sure he ever would, but she would try one last time. “After years of working for no other reason than to make money, Grandpa finally found his passion. His job never brought him joy. The Knights did.”

  “Isn’t that sweet.” Gerald stood, turning his back to her. “I could have ruined this team.”

  “You’ve tried.” Riley resented her father’s passive-aggressive attitude toward her and the Knights. “You’ve cut salaries. Used your influence to make poor draft picks. If it weren’t for Gaige and—” she choked back Sean’s name. She wasn’t giving her father that weapon to toss at her. “Your power has never been limitless.”

  “No. My father made certain of that.”

  “What’s it going to be?”

  They circled back to where they started. A familiar journey with no change in the destination. She would never understand her father and he would never try to understand her.

  Stalemate.

  “I stay in charge?”

  “With increased input from me.” Riley couldn’t see her father’s face, but she imagined a lot of eye rolling. “Not directly. I’ll take my place on the board. Unless you decide to go rogue, this is the last time we will deal one on one.”

  “Go rogue.” Gerald clasped his hands behind his back. “An interesting turn of phrase. Isn’t that what you’ve done?”

  “No. I’m moving toward a foregone conclusion.”
>
  Riley knew this was a bitter pill for her father to swallow. It meant so many things. He was growing older. She was coming into her own. Some parents wanted that for their children. Not Gerald Preston. Not if it was at his expense.

  “I won’t fight you.” He was pragmatic enough to understand what was happening. He’d lost. Battle and war.

  “You needn’t be so glum. We’re going to make the Knights contenders. In five years, when you turn over the reins, this team will be a winner and you’ll get the credit.”

  Slowly, Gerald turned, his face void of emotion. As was his voice.

  “I don’t want this team to win.”

  Riley could have rubbed salt in the wound. Inside, she was doing a happy dance to end all happy dances. However, she was content with leaving her father with one parting shot.

  “You can’t stop them. Not anymore.”

  SEAN WATCHED HIS date swivel her hips in rhythm to the music blasting from the club’s hidden speakers. They were nice hips. Above average—like the rest of her. She knew how to dance. If he recalled, the Rumba was her specialty. Or was it Zumba? Hell, it was so loud in here he had stopped making any effort to hear her an hour ago.

  It was official. He was getting old. When a willing woman in a skin-tight miniskirt couldn’t hold his attention, it was either the first sign of the apocalypse, or Sean McBride’s wild days were waning. Fast.

  Sean waited for the feeling of panic. Or sadness. Or, at the very least, a few moments of bittersweet regret. When none of those emotions came, he felt like laughing. Well, shit. Was this what becoming a mature adult felt like? It wasn’t as bad as he had always feared.

  “Want another beer?”

  The barmaid’s lips brushed his ear. Even with the pounding music, it was closer than necessary. Sean ignored the obvious come on. He didn’t pick up women when he was already with one—not anymore.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  With a shrug, she returned Sean’s smile. She cleared off the empties from a nearby table, sent him one last hopeful look, then moved on.

  “You’re slipping, son.” Pete Jacobs took a long pull from the bottle in his hand. “Not that long ago, you would have left with the waitress—and Simone.”

  Pete kicked field goals and extra points for the Knights. Some thought that meant he wasn’t a real athlete. Sean and the rest of his teammates didn’t care what anyone said. Pete never missed. Never. That made him all the athlete they needed.

  “I’m thirty.”

  Pete snorted, spitting his beer down his chin.

  “What does that mean? Look at the old man. Age isn’t slowing him down.”

  Gaige Benson was thirty-eight. He had a woman in front of him, one in back, and a couple of spares ready to take their turn. Their QB had the moves, Sean admitted. On and off the field.

  “I’ve been full out manwhoring for fifteen years,” Sean said with a self-deprecating smile. “Gaige has paced himself. He could go for another ten years—my motor could blow at any minute.”

  Pete blinked, looked at his beer, then blinked again. “Just to be clear, we are talking about sex, right?”

  “Right,” Sean clinked his bottle against Pete’s.

  “Good. This country boy can’t always keep up with your big city metaphors.”

  This time, it was Sean whose beer spewed across the table. Pete loved to play up his Georgia roots. And play down his master’s degree in English literature. One moment he was all slow-talk and cornpone, the next he was spouting Shakespearean soliloquies.

  Was there another creature as contradictory as a football player? Sean wondered. Even Gaige. Off the field, he was the most stable man you could meet—ninety-nine percent of the time. Then, seemingly without warning, a mood would hit him. Tonight was one of those times.

  Sean had no idea what drove Gaige on nights like this. They had been friends and teammates for almost eight years. The QB lent a sympathetic ear to anyone who needed it. Yet Sean couldn’t recall him unburdening himself. Not about anything serious.

  With Sean, what you saw was what you got. Gaige appeared to be the same way. However, his closest friends knew the truth. There were hidden depths behind those affable green eyes. Dark. Dangerous. One saw it on the field. During a game, Gaige was one scary motherfucker.

  “I like Casanova Gaige.” Pete chuckled when the women decided to link arms, circling Gaige with their writhing bodies. “It beats Biker Gang Gaige any day.”

  “One time,” Sean said. “And he wasn’t part of the gang. Called one of them blubber butt.”

  Who knew leather-clad men with scary tattoos were so sensitive? The fight hadn’t lasted long. The gang were Knights’ fans. They didn’t want Gaige busting up his hand. Each man was allowed one punch. To his satisfaction, Gaige did a lot more damage than blubber butt.

  “Biker Gang Gaige has a nice ring to it. I’m sticking with it.”

  “Fine. Just don’t let him hear you.”

  Gaige went off the rails once or twice a year—that Sean knew of. The incidents lasted one night. The rule was, no one spoke of it. Ever.

  “Hey, baby.” Simone slithered onto Sean’s lap. She was a sweet woman with the unfortunate tendency to wear too much perfume and call him baby. He put up with it because she gave killer head. “Want to go back to my place?”

  Sean didn’t have to think twice.

  “Not tonight.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE BUILDING IN downtown Seattle was a mix of old and new. Brick exteriors from the turn of the century that had been renovated into roomy lofts with spectacular views. Owners had every amenity at their fingertips. Laundry pick-up and delivery, concierge service that with one call could provide residents with anything from late night take-out to tickets to the symphony. It was city living at its finest.

  Sean walked out of the elevator and into his penthouse loft. Alone. Simone had not been happy when he dropped her off with no sex and no promise of it in the future. He knew in his heart of hearts that the days of fun and uncomplicated sex were quickly becoming a thing of the past.

  It was a week before the start of training camp. This was the time to kick up his heels. When he had left the club, Gaige and Pete were doing exactly that. All over the city, his current, future, and wannabe teammates engaged in activities that would soon be frowned upon. Drinking. Late nights. Sex until dawn—and beyond.

  What was he doing? Sean grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He was spending the night alone. Happily and without a single twinge of regret.

  From his vantage point, the city stretched out in front of him—full of possibilities. Tonight he chose his couch and a good book. He blamed Riley Preston.

  No. That wasn’t fair. He couldn’t blame Riley. This was on him. She was never around. Since her return to Seattle, Sean had seen her exactly three times. From a distance. She didn’t hang out with the team or hide in the stands. This was a new Riley.

  All of a sudden, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  Sean flopped down onto his couch—the softer than soft one that he bought for this exact purpose. It stood alone in front of the floor to ceiling windows that dominated the west side of the room. It was his favorite place in the loft. Perfect for taking naps or simply relaxing after a long, tiring day.

  At first, Sean had thought Riley was avoiding him. When he mentioned it, Gaige assured him that wasn’t the case. She was busy doing everything a person had to do when they were uprooting their life from one coast to the other.

  Sean understood. Still, after five years, didn’t he deserve a hello? He thought back to that last series of events before Riley left Seattle. God, he had been an arrogant shit. So certain a smile and a wink could solve any problem.

  Sean wasn’t ready to admit that he had broken her heart. However, he had bruised it. Carelessly. He hadn’t wanted her crushing on him—especially when the whole team knew about it. It was embarrassing to have a kid hanging around with stars in her eyes.

  Except s
he hadn’t been a kid. Not really. She had been a young woman. Inexperienced, yes. Also insecure and completely earnest.

  Sean could see that now. Back then, all he saw was an inconvenience that needed to be dealt with as swiftly as possible. He hadn’t considered his words or paid attention to her reaction. Before the conversation had finished, Sean was already planning his evening—one filled with a few drinks, a few laughs, and some great sex.

  Their last meeting had been brief. Sean remembered a feeling of awkwardness. It passed quickly. Riley seemed a little subdued but friendly. Sean was convinced she was over her infatuation. He dismissed her with his usual self-centered conceit. A vague wave in her direction and he was hitting on another woman—easily conquered and quickly forgotten.

  Sean had no regrets when it came to the many, many women in his past. They knew the score and he tried to make the experience as good for them as it was for him. Many of them looked for bragging rights. They wanted to join the I slept with Sean McBride club. And Sean was happy to oblige.

  It took him a while to realize Riley was gone. A couple of weeks. Sean cringed at the memory.

  “Hey, I haven’t seen Riley around lately.”

  The team was in the locker room getting dressed. Miami and the last game of the regular season. It didn’t count for anything. The Knights were headed to the playoffs as the third seed. Their only concern was to come out as healthy as they went in. The starters would play a series or two, before being pulled. No need to take any chances by playing them the entire game.

  Gaige adjusted his shoulder pads, then pulled on his jersey before answering Sean’s off-handed question.

  “Riley isn’t around because she’s in Boston.”

  “Seems like a strange time to take a trip. She never misses a game.”

  “She’s not coming back, Sean.”

  “For today’s game.” Sean nodded, lacing his shoe. When Gaige didn’t respond, he frowned. “She is coming back. Right?”

  “No.”

  “What about the team? And school?”