The Pickup (Imperfect Love Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “There is one condition,” Mr. Thomas says slowly.

  “Okay.”

  “We need you to settle down.”

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “This past year you’ve managed to party in probably every club on the East Coast, as well as screw most of the female population. You’ve lost most of your endorsements, and nobody is going to take you seriously if you don’t start acting like the thirty-year-old man you are.”

  “I lost those endorsements because of my injury,” I point out.

  “True, but you won’t get them back if you keep acting like the playboy of NYC.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, it’s time to settle down.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means no more partying. No more drinking. No more one-night stands.” Mr. Thomas places a piece of paper on the table. “You were seen leaving a hotel this morning in the same clothes you were seen in last night.”

  I pull the paper closer to examine it. It’s a printout from something a trashy tabloid posted online. In the image my tall frame is hovering over Liv’s petite body, hiding her face.

  “I didn’t know we were being watched.”

  “You’ve spent the last year being filmed and photographed while partying. We can’t have that if you’re playing for this team.”

  Coach Harper adds, “You’re going to be the face of this team, the man who’s hopefully going to lead us to a championship, and you’re going to need to act like it. Nobody wants to root for a guy who’s spending his time sleeping with half of New York. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I agree.

  “Excellent!” Mr. Thomas clasps his hands together. “Now that we have that figured out, let’s get this contract signed.”

  Four

  Nick

  Nine months later

  “All right, guys. This is it. We’ve worked too hard not to make it to the playoffs now. Let’s finish this.” We’re huddled up on San Francisco’s twenty-yard line. There’s only twelve seconds left in our season, and we’re down by four points. As I look around at all the cheering fans in the stadium, I have a bout of déjà vu. Only this time, I’m not playing for North Carolina but instead for New York. We get this touchdown, and we make the playoffs. We don’t, and there’s a chance this is the last game I’ll ever play. I feel a twinge of pain radiate down my arm, reminding me this game has to end differently.

  The guys are all pumped up and ready to win this game. I call out the play, “FB West right slot 372 Y stick on three, break!” And then we take our positions on the field. On my three-count, the center hikes the ball. Taking a three-step drop, I find Killian and see he has a step on the defender. I throw the ball to him, a bit too high—my nerves getting the best of me—to avoid the interception—and like always, he comes through in the clutch, catching the ball in the end zone for the touchdown. The rest of the team joins him as we celebrate our win and our spot in the playoffs.

  Every game we win leaves me feeling exhilarated. I’ve learned over the last several months my one and only true love is football. It’s all I need. Sometimes when I wish for more, I remind myself of what more means in my life. And then I accept my life for what it is. I’m damn blessed, and it would be selfish of me to want more.

  We head back to the locker room to shower—adrenaline still coursing through our veins from our win. The guys are shouting and joking. It’s the week before Christmas, and this is without a doubt the best gift I’ve ever been given.

  “Reservations at El Tao,” Brian McCaldon calls out to the team.

  “We fucking did it!” Killian jumps on my back. Then as he comes down, he pulls me in for a side hug.

  “We still have a long way to go…but yeah, we fucking did!”

  “You going to El Tao?” he asks.

  “Yeah, might as well. I’m alone for the night.” I shrug. “Want to play some Madden at your place afterward?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  A few months ago, I moved out of Killian’s condo and into my own place. I didn’t want to, but I had to. After accepting the contract with New York, my life changed drastically, and while I know it’s what needed to be done, sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision.

  “When does she—” His words are cut off when I hear a version of my name being called. The version I have only told one woman. I put my hand up to stop him from speaking and look around, wondering if I’m hearing shit. Wondering if it’s possible, after all this time, I’m imagining her calling my name.

  “Cole,” I hear again, and my eyes swing over to the woman who’s calling me. And sure as shit, standing there in the locker room is her.

  “Brown-Eyes.” I say the nickname I gave her. So many times I’ve tried to remember what she looks like, but my memory of her didn’t do her justice at all. Her hair is a bit longer, a little lighter. Her eyes are still a beautiful shade of brown that remind me of melted chocolate—sweet like the taste of her pussy on my tongue.

  My eyes move downward, lingering on her voluptuous breasts, before I continue farther down, stopping on her…stomach. What the fuck! She’s…pregnant? “You’re pregnant?”

  She follows my gaze down to her protruding belly and then gives me a duh! expression.

  “What’re you doing here?” I ask a bit too coolly as I suddenly remember the note she left the morning after the night we spent together.

  “Well…I saw you playing…”

  Coach Harper cuts in, making his presence known. “How do you two know each other?”

  Liv darts her gaze from Coach to me and then back to him. “He’s the father,” she says softly. Her eyes close slightly, and the guys gasp and curse around us.

  Coach makes eye contact with me, his glare like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s a look that says he’s about to kill me, and it has me repeating what she said over and over again in my head, hearing the words but not comprehending them. Why the hell is she saying I’m the father? And why is she telling my coach?

  “You’re…the father?” Coach asks, but I don’t answer him. I’ve lost my voice. I’m in shock. A minute ago, I was remembering how this woman was the best damn lay of my life, how I woke up wanting more, wanting to get to know her, how she walked away without looking back, and now she’s trying to fuck me over. She didn’t want anything to do with me the morning after when she thought I was a nobody, but now that she knows who I am, she wants to cry baby?

  “Bullshit!” I say, finally finding my voice. “We had a one-night stand.” I turn to Liv. “If you think you’re getting a dime from me, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “Son, what did you just say?” Coach’s face is turning beet red. I’ve never seen him this pissed. I’m not sure why he cares, but he needs to have my back or mind his own business. “I would watch what you’re saying.”

  “What the hell, Coach? You expect me to just stand here while this gold-digger tries to fuck me over?” I nod toward Liv who looks like she’s not sure whether to be mad or upset. “You’re supposed to have my back.”

  Without saying a word, Coach cuts across the room, and before I can duck, he punches me in the face. My back hits the wall as the guys all jump into action, pulling him off me.

  “That gold-digger is my daughter!” Oh, hell…shit just got real.

  And this is when I should close my mouth, but I’m too worked up—too pissed because I thought she was different, too disappointed that she’s like everyone else in my fucking life. “That may be so, but can’t you see this for what it is? She’s a fucking groupie.” I turn to Liv. “What do you want? Huh? Money? A house? A car?”

  Coach pushes through the guys, but Killian grabs him before his fist can connect with my face for a second time.

  “Nick, stop!” Killian shouts, but I don’t listen.

  “C’mon, you come at me, what—” I quickly do the math in my head—“nine months later. What do you want? And don’t tell me nothing. Every
body wants something.”

  She stares at me for a minute, her face bright red with anger and her hand resting on the top of her swollen belly. “I didn’t know…I lived in Paris…I didn’t know who you were that night, Cole.” She emphasizes my name to prove her point. Anybody who knows me calls me Nick. My mother calls me Nicholas. I told her my name was Cole.

  Coach goes to his daughter’s side. “Olivia, honey, what the hell happened?”

  Five

  Olivia

  Nine months ago

  “Olivia, I hate that you wouldn’t let me fly over for your graduation.” I’m sitting on my terrace, talking to my dad, but my mind and heart are a million miles away as I stare at the Eiffel Tower. It’s nighttime, and the beautiful tower monopolizes the area. The twinkling lights glitter, making it look like a white Parisian Christmas tree.

  “You came for my graduation when I got my bachelor’s degree. You didn’t need to come for my master’s as well. Plus, I was thinking of coming to visit you.” I wasn’t really, but in light of recent events, I’m thinking a vacation across the Atlantic is just what I need.

  “Yeah?” My dad’s voice raises several octaves in excitement. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding. I would love for you to come and visit.” My thoughts go back to the day my dad married my stepmom, Corrine. The way he smiled with unshed tears in his eyes. After losing my mom—his soulmate—to breast cancer seven years ago, he didn’t think he would ever fall in love again. Then he met Corrine. I remember when he called me. His voice wavered, scared I wouldn’t be happy for him. How could I not be? He loved my mother until she took her final breath. Nobody deserves to live the rest of their life alone because they lost the love of their life too soon.

  “I would only be able to come for a week, though. The museum has asked me to come on fulltime as their Arts Education Coordinator now that I’ve graduated.”

  “That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you. You took your passion for education and your love of art and seem to have found a job you really enjoy.”

  “Well, I have to make a living somehow.”

  My dad chuckles. The truth is, my mother was an extremely wealthy woman, and when she died, she left everything to me. I have enough money to never have to work a day in my life. When I asked my dad why she didn’t leave it all to him—he was her husband after all—he told me his job was to take care of her. She never had to touch the money while she was alive, and it was her last wish to know I would be taken care of.

  “I miss you, Olivia,” my dad says. “I would really love to see you, even if it’s only for a week.” Six months after my mom died, I turned eighteen and received my inheritance. I made the decision to leave New York and attend college in Paris. My mom was from there, and I wanted to spend some time seeing for myself all the stories she used to share of her childhood in France. And if I’m honest, I needed some distance from the home I grew up in. My mom was my best friend, and losing her hurt my heart beyond belief. Everywhere I went, it reminded me of my mom and the fact that I would never see her again.

  So, I moved to Paris to attend college, which is where I met my best friend, Giselle Winters, my freshman year. She had a horrible flat mate and was looking to move. I had an extra room, and we hit it off immediately. A bachelor’s and master’s degree later, and we’ve created a home here. I never thought that six years later I would still be living here, but I love it, and so does Giselle. The funny thing is, we’re both from New York, but because we’re from different areas, we never met until we were going to school in Paris.

  “Are you excited to be starting your new job?” I ask my dad.

  “Yeah, I am. I loved coaching college ball. I’ve been doing it for the last fifteen years. But I’m excited to take this team on. You know I love a good challenge.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “How is Victor?” And this is the part of the conversation that I’ve been dreading. I don’t lie to my dad. I don’t keep secrets from him.

  “We broke up.”

  My dad is silent for a moment before he asks, “What happened?”

  “He was offered a job in Geneva.”

  “Switzerland?”

  I laugh softly. “Yes, Switzerland. He didn’t ask me to go. Not that I would have…but he didn’t even ask. Didn’t even consider me when making his decision.”

  “He’s a dumbass.”

  I love that my dad always has my back. “It hurts. I gave him three years, and he gave me a thirty-hour notice he was moving out.”

  “I bet Giselle is thrilled,” he points out.

  “She is.” Giselle and Victor never got along. Last year, after dating Victor for two years, he suggested we move in together. My flat was the obvious choice. Giselle swears he only asked so he could crash somewhere in luxury. She might’ve been right, especially since he made more excuses than not to keep from contributing on a monthly basis.

  “All right, well, you talk to Giselle, because I know you won’t be coming here without her, and let me know the dates. I’ll make sure I’m available to you. We can stay at the house in the Hamptons. It will be great.”

  “Sounds good, Dad. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  * * *

  It’s our last day in New York. We’ve been here for nine days. Five of them spent at our beach house in the Hamptons, two of them exploring all the museums I love to visit while here—during which time my dad mentioned a million times I could do the same job I’m planning to do in Paris, here in New York. Yesterday was spent at the spa with Giselle, Corrine, and her daughter, Shelby, who is in town visiting from Connecticut, where she lives with her father and his family.

  Earlier today, I met my dad for breakfast, and then I spent the rest of the day doing some shopping since he had to attend a meeting for work and Giselle was visiting with her family. Tonight, Giselle and I are meeting my dad, Corrine, and Shelby at a new club my dad heard about.

  After we’ve perfected our hair, makeup, and outfits, we walk the few blocks over to Club Envy. I’m about to call my dad to see where we should meet them when my phone pings with an incoming text. It’s from Shelby, letting me know her dad needed her to babysit for him and her stepmom, so she had to drive back early. She says she’s going to try to come back tomorrow for breakfast. I text her back that it’s okay and if she can’t make it I understand. Her dad relies on her a lot to help with her half-siblings.

  Just as I’m swiping out of the message, my phone rings.

  “Hey, Dad! We just got here. Where are you guys?”

  “Hey honey! I’m at home. Corrine thinks she might’ve gotten food poisoning from the sushi she ate earlier. She’s been hugging the toilet for the last hour.”

  “Oh, no! Do you want me to go over there?”

  “No, no. You should still go to the club and have a good time. I heard it’s all the rage.” I laugh at my dad trying to sound cool.

  “Shelby had to cancel too. Her dad needed her to babysit. Are you sure you don’t need me to come over?”

  “No, there’s nothing you could do here, and I’m almost positive Corrine would kill me if I allowed anyone to see her in her current state. Besides, there’s no reason for you girls to be stuck in on your last night in New York. Go. Have a good time…but not too good of a time,” he adds, and I roll my eyes.

  “Fine, but we’ll see you before we leave tomorrow, right?”

  “Damn right you will. We’re still meeting for breakfast after you check out. I moved my meeting back to the afternoon, so I can take you to the airport myself. You know I’m still annoyed you insisted on staying at a hotel instead of with me.”

  “Dad…” I groan. “You downsized. Your two-bedroom condo is beautiful, but it’s not big enough for us women and our luggage.” I giggle, and he grunts. My dad finally made the decision to sell our family home and buy a condo closer to the stadium in Lower Manhattan since he will be spending a lot of his time there.

  “I know, I know. I’ll see y
ou in the morning,” he says.

  “Okay, Dad. Tell Corrine I hope she feels better soon.”

  “Will do.”

  “What happened?” Giselle asks once I end the phone call.

  “Corrine has food poisoning, and Shelby is stuck babysitting. I guess it’s just us.”

  “Well, that sucks! But we’re going to have a fabulous time.”

  We approach the bouncer and, after paying the cover charge, enter the club. We aren’t even down the hall when Giselle’s name is called.

  She turns around, yells, “Oh my God,” and then runs into a man’s arms.

  “Christian, this is my best friend, Livi; Livi, this is Christian. We dated for a while in high school.” Her cheeks flush pink, and I remember her telling me about the guy she left in New York to move to Paris. He’s now the lead singer of some huge band here in the U.S.

  “Nice to meet you.” Christian shakes my hand. “Are you back for good?” he asks Giselle.

  “Actually, this is our last night here.”

  “Then you have to give me tonight,” he says forward as ever, causing Giselle’s pink-colored cheeks to deepen to a dark crimson.

  She glances my way, and I nod my encouragement. “Go and catch up. I’ll order us a couple of drinks and bring them over.”

  “Are you sure?” Giselle asks.

  “Yes! Go! Christian, would you like something to drink?”

  “I’m good, but thanks,” he says, “I have my beer over at my table. It’s in the back corner just behind the bar. I spotted Giselle and didn’t want to take a chance of losing her in the crowd.” Christian gives her a soft smile. “I can’t believe after all this time we ran into each other here.”