Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  She laughs and punches my arm before I pull her right back into me; “Hey Princess,” I murmur, kissing her again; “I love you too, you know.”

  And right there, nothing else matter in the whole fucking universe but her.

  30

  Hudson

  P A S T

  I take my time getting ready. As I’m pulling my pants on, or tucking in my shirt, or tying the double windsor knot in my tie, it’s like I’m suiting up my armor to head into battle. I can feel my nerves jangling like live-wires inside of me, my pulse skipping around like a broken record as I finish getting ready; finish getting prepared for this.

  I’ve had a million conversations with her over the last few years. I’ve written her letters that I’ve burned instead of sending, had conversations with the memory of her late into the night when I’m alone and sleepless with my thoughts. Hell, I’ve played out this very meeting a hundred different ways in my head since I decided I was going. But none of it has me prepared to see her again. But the nervousness and the jangling nerves is like an elevated, surreal feeling that’s better than any booze.

  It was Bryce who heard about the chain store pulling funding after her comments about raising the minimum wage, and while I’ve weighed how she’s going to react to this a dozen different ways since then, I know this is the only way. I believe in her, and not just because I know William did, but because if believing in her and her campaign is believing in myself and maybe my ability to become normal someday.

  I finger the bullet in my pocket, staring down my reflection in the mirror. I straighten my tie once more, along with a straying bit of hair, before I take a deep breath. This is it. It’s time to go meet Reagan Archer for the first time in five years, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually excited about what might come at me next.

  REAGAN

  P R E S E N T

  Two weeks later, after the media circus has sort of died down about the “Young Senatorial candidate and the billionaire Marine,” Hudson and I are back at my father’s house, sitting on the terrace off the library; our terrace. We’re sipping iced tea, and with my hands held in his, and he tells me everything; all of it. He tells me about the horrors of war, and the village in Afghanistan. He tells me about addiction and demons, and being on the run, and their stint as mercenaries in Africa. I start to tear up when he tells me about getting shot - both times -, but it’s when he looks me straight in the eye and tells me that my father was the best thing that ever happened to him for saving them from all of that, that I just start to cry.

  “So, that’s-”

  “That’s why I pushed you away the first time. I’d made your father a promise to protect you, and letting you into all that shit that was inside of me wasn’t protecting you at all.”

  “And now?” I bite my lip as I look up at him, at this man who’s basically gone to the very edge and somehow come back to life; this man who makes me feel complete and alive like I’ve never felt before; “Is all of that history finished now?”

  He shakes his head; “No- it’s not; not entirely.” He slides his hand through my hair to the back of my head as he pulls me close and grins at me; “But for now, I think I can let a lot of that shit go.” He winks at me; “Seems I’ve got more important things to think about now.” He leans in and kisses me, and I lose myself in him.

  “Ms. Archer?” I break shyly away from Hudson as one of my staffers pokes her head out the door. Ok, Hudson and I are out in the open now, but PDA still makes me blush like a schoolgirl, even if he’s trying something in public every chance he gets.

  “Yes?” I say, clearing my throat.

  “There’s an older gentlemen here to see you.”

  Major Lawson nods a thanks as I pour him a glass of iced tea; “So, you’re going to win this thing, you know.”

  I smile; “Ah, well thank you for your positive thoughts!”

  He shakes his head, smiling; “No I mean, I’ve been doing this a long time, Ms. Archer, and you just plain have it. You are going to win this election.”

  “Well, thank you, sir.”

  “I’ve got a proposition for you though.” He takes a sip of tea and smiles at me; “I want you to do your two year stint with New York, and then I want you to quit.”

  My eyes dart to Hudson before I turn back to the Major; “Excuse me?” I shake my head; “Listen, Major Lawson, if you think you can-”

  “Because I want you to stop piddling away with this local yokel state stuff and come with me to D.C.”

  My jaw drops as I stare at him; “What?”

  “You have a unique quality, Ms. Archer, and a talent for statesmanship that you don’t see often in this business, as strange as that sounds.” He puts his glass down and steeples his hands in front of him; “I want to run you for U.S. Senate, Ms. Archer, so that I can put you on with Veterans Affairs where you can do some real good.”

  I’m speechless, my mouth opening without words as my heart jumps up into my throat, and I realize I’m grinning like an idiot before I can even say anything. Major Lawson just smiles at me; “I’m going to assume that’s a yes?”

  “Thats-!” Holy shit is that a yes! “Yes! Major, yes! I’d be honored!”

  Hudson is squeezing my hand and the Major’s eyes drop to that joining before he looks up at him; “Oh, and don’t think I don’t have plans for you too, Banks.”

  Hudson frowns; “Sir?”

  “We want you in D.C. too, actually. We’re starting up a new panel on VA affairs and post-combat aftercare, and we need a chairman.”

  Hudson chuckles quietly and shakes his head; “Sir, I appreciate the honor, but I don’t think I’m the man who-”

  “William Archer and I were quite close, Mr. Banks,” Major Lawson looks pointedly at Hudson; “Quite close.”

  “Sir, I-”

  “Son, I’ve seen war on three different continents, and after the shit-show you boys saw over there in that damned desert, I’m amazed you came back alive at all.” Hudson closes his mouth, and as I squeeze his hand, I feel him respond back.

  Major Lawson looks at Hudson and nods; “What I’m trying to say is, son, I know about all the other stuff that came after, and I’m here today to tell you that I don’t really give a shit about all that. You’re a hell of a Marine, an even more impressive leader, and one of the strongest men I’ve known. I want you working where you can help.” He winks; “And seeing as I’m pretty much in charge of military records, I think we can go right ahead and gloss over those other things.”

  Hudson is staring at him like he’s just handed him the keys to the world, and all I want to do is jump into his arms right there and kiss him.

  The Major nods towards me and grins at him; “Just so long as you keep looking after William’s girl here.”

  Hudson turns and looks right into my eyes, his grin wide and his shoulder looking free of a weight that he’s had on them forever; “Always, sir.”

  We of course wait until the Major leaves before I let myself all into Hudson’s arms and into his kiss; “Always, huh?”

  “Yeah,” He says, smirking at me; “Always.”

  31

  Reagan

  E P I L O G U E

  We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but we’ve got either William or Christine picket out for names after my Dad and his Mom. I know Hudson’s pretty excited at the idea of having a little girl, but I’ve told him that there are plenty of Archer girls already without adding one more little probable spit-fire to the mix.

  It was a small wedding with basically just the immediate families; my two sisters and my Aunt Kelly on one side, and the two guys who are for all intents and purposes his brothers on the other. We asked Major Lawson to walk me down the aisle, and Bryce ended up taking one of those online ordination classes and married us right there in the gardens of my father’s house. We were barely pregnant at the wedding, but that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of jokes about the “shotgun” nature of it, especially
after Logan told me the story of my Dad literally breaking up an arranged wedding in Angola between some local warlord and this poor child of a girl with an actual shotgun. Turns out my Dad was kind of a badass, which kind of makes the tattooed, scarred up, ex-mercenary, ex-drinker, ex-playboy of a Marine who’s now my husband make a whole lot of sense, if you subscribe to that weird Freudian stuff.

  I can’t say the aftermath of the blowout with Donald and my telling everyone about Hudson and I was all a fairy-tale ending, because that’s just not real life. Donald did end up suing Hudson, who ended up having to settle for some not-that-crazy-amount - well, for him - out of court to avoid criminal charges. Of course, after that he used every considerable connection he had to make sure Donald didn’t work in politics ever again, so I hope the $40,000 or so that he walked away with was worth it. And I did take a hit in the polls after the announcement about the two of us; guess some people have a problem with other people’s happiness. I still won though, by some almost record-breaking numbers, and on the next term, I was sworn in as the youngest State Senator in New York history. The victory was only made sweeter when we got wind of a massive lawsuit being leveled at Chet by three of his staffers for sexual misconduct.

  I’m due in two months, so I’m of course as big a fucking whale these days. But for some insane reason I still can’t believe, my hunk of a husband still seems to find me irresistible, and he’s still trying to start things with me in public that we should not be doing in public. I know even as excited as he is, he’s worried about having kids just because of his own upbringing and the stuff he’s witnessed in the world. But I know he’s going to be an amazing father. I think the fund we’ve recently started up to rebuild schools in Afghanistan is helping too; helping him work through some of things he saw over there.

  After the baby, I’ll be taking some maternity leave before I finish up my term with New York, and then I’m putting my career into Major Lawson’s hands; both of us are actually. We’re excited for whatever comes next, and since we’ve got each other, I know what does come is going to be something amazing that we face together. The things you care about are the things worth fighting for. We’ve both fought for what we care about, and somehow against all the odds, we’ve found our happy ending.

  The End

  Also by Aubrey Irons

  Standalone Stepbrother Romance:

  Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

  Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance

  Cockney: A British Stepbrother Romance

  Crude: A Stepbrother Romance

  Soldiers of Fortune Series:

  Heat

  Burn

  Scorch

  Roar

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  About the Author

  Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy!

  In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.

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  Part II

  Burn: Soldiers of Fortune Book 2

  Copyright © 2015 Aubrey Irons

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please do not continue reading this book of you are under the age of 18 or are offended by content of this nature.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older and are in no way blood relations. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

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  1

  Quinn

  What a fucking week.

  I toss back a hefty gulp of the champagne I swiped from the catering tent, wrinkling my face at the fizzy bubbles tickling my nose.

  Flats; I definitely should have worn flats, I grumble to myself and hike up my bridesmaids dress with one hand as I stalk my way high-heeled through the rose garden.

  Ok, I'm well aware that sneaking off to the greenhouse in the back gardens of my father's estate to slam down stolen champagne probably isn't what I should be doing thirty minutes before my sister's wedding. But with the week I've had, I'm basically categorizing the bubbly in my hand as medicine, and my normally quite sensible sensibilities can go ahead and deal with it.

  An ”amazing opportunity,” my youngest sister Chelsea had called it after hearing about the job offer at our late father's company.

  Yeah, well, the real 'amazing opportunity' - the one that I wanted - was the team leader position in the research group I was in back at the hospital; the one I was pretty much “guaranteed” by the Administrative Director.

  Of course when that Director is kind of maybe your sort-of boyfriend, and you walk in on him getting blown by some slutty young med student, it's amazing how quickly your guaranteed position turns into her actual position.

  And no, that's not a euphemism; he actually gave her the job he'd promised me.

  Ok fine, the job at Archer Holdings is a great job, but that doesn't mean that coming to work for my father's company doesn't feel like moving back in with your parents after failing out in the real world. I mean, it's not like being a Doctor by twenty-seven is exactly slacking, but I can't help but feel like a washout coming back to work for “Dad's” company.

  I'm taking another swig of champagne as I shove open the door to the greenhouse, and I guess that's the reason I don't realize I'm not alone until he speaks.

  “Looks like I'm not the only one that couldn't wait until after the ceremony for the champagne toast.”

  I actually spit champagne out as I whirl at the uncomfortably familiar man's voice behind me, and when my eye land on him, my jaw about hits the floor under my feet.

  No fucking way.

  This isn't happening; this seriously can't be happening. It can't be him; there's just no possible way this is real.

  But his dark greenish brown eyes lock onto mine as the recognition dawns there, and just the faintest shadow of a grin teases at the corners of his mouth; “You?”

  I know the criminally good looking man in the tux standing right in front of me, even though I'm not supposed to. I shouldn't know about the body built for sin underneath that tux; shouldn't know about the tattoos covering his chest and the coiled muscles of his biceps, or those abs carved out of marble. I shouldn't know how the muscles on the side of his hips groove down like pure sex, and I certainly shouldn't be able to exactly picture the thick- well, what I know he's got between his legs.

  He's shaved his beard off, and the bruises around his face from
the last time - from seeing him slumped in the elevator that night barely a week ago - seemed to be healing. I briefly wonder about the shallow stab wound in his side and how the bruised rib is doing.

  And how is it that I know these things I shouldn't? Because one week ago, I saw those bruises; I sewed up that wound.

  My one one night stand, the one man I never expected to see again even if I haven't been able to get him out of my head for the last eight days, is standing in a tuxedo, right in front of me, at my sister's wedding.

  What the hell is going on here?

  My brain is still trying to get my mouth to work and say something to the grinning, criminally good looking man standing in front of me, when the door to greenhouse bangs open.

  “There you ar- Oh, hey!”

  Hudson, my very soon-to-be-brother-in-law, smiles at me, “Good, looks like you two found each other.”

  Huh?

  “I mean, wow, how long's it been since you guys even last saw each other?”

  Warning bells start to sound inside my head, slowly at first and then building louder and louder, until there's an audible ringing in my ears. Hudson opens his mouth again, and the words that tumble out have my heart jumping up into my throat as the floor practically drops out beneath my feet; “Quinn, you know Logan, right?”

  Oh God; oh holy fucking shit-balls. No-no-no-no-no...

  The words are screaming through my head as I whirl around almost in slow motion to lock eyes on him. I can see the same horrible shock mirrored across his face as his eyes go wide as the recognition dawns on him too.