by Nacole Mills
A little blush rose up on Morgan's cheek, but she only smiled. "I was just thinking the same thing about that tux."
Brent laughed and they shared a kiss. "Ready to go?"
Morgan nodded and she felt a nervous flutter rise up in her chest. They hopped on to the elevator that opened up in Brent's living room and went downstairs. Waiting for them just outside was a limo that Brent had rented just for that night.
They were headed to an elegant "End of the Season" dinner that the Caimans threw every year. And this year, Brent was receiving an award for breaking the "most touchdowns in a season record."
The drive to the dinner was mostly quiet. Brent knew that Morgan was nervous about the evening, so he chose to not make her nerves worse by speaking. Instead, he scrolled around on his phone while Morgan twisted a tissue in her lap.
"Whoa," Brent said quietly. Morgan looked over and his eyes were wide with shock.
"What?"
"I just read that Levitt is being forced to retire."
"WHAT?"
Morgan scooted over to Brent's side to read the article on his phone.
LEVITT OUSTED AMONG TANTRUM RUMORS
Erik Levitt, famed running back for the Blue Kraits, has announced today that he will be seeking an early retirement, effectively ending his run with the pro football team.
Levitt, who many will remember was ejected from this year's game against the Caimans, came under heavy fire when he illegally tackled rival Brent Larson while Larson was attempting to break the touchdown record for the season. As a result, the Blue Kraits suspended Levitt from the next two games and ordered him into anger management.
But there are rumors among those in the know that Levitt refused to seek therapy. The coach for the Blue Kraits was unavailable for comment earlier today, but the team's public relations office released a statement, reading in part that "while we are sad to see Mr. Levitt leave the game of football, we look forward to next year's season."
Was Levitt forced out by a team that refused to babysit him anymore? Or, does he really want to get back to gardening and fishing, as he said in his press release earlier today?
"Holy shit," Larson said as he read the article.
Morgan looked over at him. "Did you know about any of this?"
"Yeah," Brent admitted, "I had heard that he was refusing to do the anger management thing. And one of the kickers said that he was really bad to trash locker rooms and that he destroyed a lot of equipment after our game."
"Good lord," Morgan said, sitting back in her seat.
"Oh well," Larson said, shutting off his phone, "Now I won’t have to worry about him reinjuring my ribs next year."
Morgan rubbed the back of Larson's hand gently. After the game, they had learned that Brent had cracked four of his ribs and he had a lot of deep tissue bruising. He had to sit out for a game, but then muscled his way in for the rest of the season, adding to his record. Levitt was never close to beating him again.
The limo soon pulled up in front of the hall and Morgan gasped. It was a beautiful hall, complete with candles lighting the walk way and two men dressed in formal wear, waiting to open their door and escort them in.
Larson climbed out first, then reached in for Morgan's hand. Once she was out, he never let go of her, and she felt calm knowing that he was right by her side.
Together, the lovers made their way into the hall and Morgan fell in love. The decor, which was orange and gold for the team, also had notes of midnight black, which made the colors mix together gently. Each table as adorned with little centerpieces featuring footballs, orange and gold flags, and black marbles. Larson found their table quickly, and Morgan was grateful to find Sam Smythe and his girlfriend, Nina, sitting with them, along with two other players that she did not know well.
"Oh gosh, I am so glad to see you!" Morgan whispered to Sam and Nina as she sank down into her chair.
Nina smiled sweetly at Morgan. "Isn’t this the best? It's my third year coming to the banquet and I think that this year is the top of the three."
Morgan and Nina chatted through the salad course of dinner, then the main course. Morgan found herself at ease as she talked to the woman who had quickly became her friend over the past few years. Once the main course was finished, Coach Boss approached the stage just in front of Morgan. She looked on at the coach with pride as he began.
"Thank you all for coming to this year's Caimans' banquet." He stopped for applause, then continued on. "This year, we are honoring all of those who made this successful year possible. From players, to coaches, to staff, you all have worked hard and tirelessly, and this year, we reap the awards."
Morgan clapped hard and she grinned big. She looked over at Brent, who clapped as well, but he had a strange look on his face. Was he nervous?
Coach Boss beamed down at the table where Morgan, Brent, and the others all sat. "This year's biggest story comes from our very own Brent Larson. Larson, in only his third year playing pro, successfully shattered the touchdown record for a season and is well on his way to breaking the lifetime touchdowns record."
The applause in the room was thunderous and Morgan looked over and beamed at her boyfriend. Coach went on to talk about various plays throughout the year, including his big game-winning touchdown against the Blue Kraits. Larson smiled humbly as it all went down, and Morgan noticed that he pulled a small white slip of paper from his pocket.
"It is my pleasure to award this year's MVP trophy, as well as this plaque representing the new touchdown record, to the number 93, Mr. Brent Larson."
Larson stood and smiled as the room filled with whoops and cheers, with Morgan's being the loudest. He walked up to the stage and took the awards after smiling thank shaking his coach's hand. Boss backed away and Larson centered himself in front of the microphone.
"Thank you," he said as he unfolded the little scrap of paper. He began to read: "My journey began when my father gave me my very own football for my seventh birthday. But never in my life did I dream that I would accomplish so much. Football is my dream, and it is my reality." Larson looked up and his eyes found Morgan's. "I never could have done this without the support from my coaches, my team mates, and the love of my life.
"Morgan," he spoke as though she was the only one in the room, "My darling, my love. Thank you. Thank you for standing by me, no matter what the cost. You never turned your back on me, even in my darkest hours. I can never, ever repay you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying."
Larson nodded and applause filled the air. Morgan's heart soared, and when Larson dropped back into the chair beside her, she leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
The ceremony droned on after that, with awards going to Sam Smythe, three defensive linemen, and one third-stringer. Others were recognized too, but soon they all melded together and Morgan found her attention wavering.
Larson seemed to know how she felt. "Need some air?" he leaned over and whispered.
"Absolutely." The pair slipped out of their chairs and out a glass side door which lead to a secluded, empty balcony.
Morgan sighed as she leaned against the railing, looking out on the city with twinkled in the darkness. "Your speech was great," she said.
"But this one is going to be better."
Morgan was confused, and she raised an eyebrow as she turned to face him. Brent had a smile on his face, a secretive one, and Morgan's chest suddenly felt as though she was housing many butterflies. "... Brent?"
"No, let me speak," Brent said as he moved close to her. He took one of Morgan's hands in his while his other trailed along the side of her face, brushing a curled tendril of hair from it. "Darling, I meant every word I said up there."
"I know," Morgan said softly.
"And I when I said that I want to spend the rest of my life trying to repay you, I meant it."
"I know." Morgan could barely breath. Was this really....
The hand that stroked Morgan's cheek reached into his pocket and out c
ame a small black box. Morgan could hardly see it in the dim light, but her mind registered it immediately. She gasped and put her free hand to her mouth.
Brent just chuckled. "I love you, Morgan McMinn. I have loved you from the moment I saw you sitting on the bleachers, watching me practice. I loved you when I teased you. I loved you when I made that bet with you. I loved you every moment of every day."
Tears sprang up in Morgan's eyes as Brent lowered himself to one knee before her. He cracked open the box with one finger, a move that he most certainly had been practicing. There, nestled inside the box among a bed of white satin, was a beautiful rose gold engagement ring. The ring was topped with a large square diamond, with other little diamonds running down either side of the band. Morgan gasped as she saw it, and she knew that Brent must have had it specially made for her.
"Morgan," Brent's voice shook as he held the diamond up, "Will you marry me?"
The answer was always there. Why even ask the question?
"Yes! Of course I will marry you!" The happy little tears that had sparkled in Morgan's eyes spilled over and down her cheeks. She was no longer looking at the ring. She was looking at the man who held it. The man who held her heart.
Brent jumped to his feet and lifted Morgan from the ground, kissing her full on the mouth. She moaned against his lips, and her mind whirled. She was sharing her first kiss with Brent Larson, her fiancé!
The kiss lasted for ages, and when they finally broke apart, Morgan touched the side of Larson's face. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, baby."
Brent took the ring from the box and slipped the cool metal onto Morgan's finger. She looked down at the little band that sparkled and it took her breath away. Morgan had always feared that a ring would make her feel heavy, but this one gave her wings.
They pressed their foreheads together like they often did and Brent whispered, "Are you ready to go back in?"
Morgan smiled and ran her fingers through Larson's hair, messing up the slicked-back and making it shaggy. It fell just above his eyes.
"I will go with you anywhere."
Author’s Notes
God, that was a good book, right? Well, I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.
Because it’s based on a past love of mine.
When I set out to write this story, I knew that I wanted to hit on the sports angle. I wanted to write a story about a gorgeous football player and the quiet, shy girl that fell in love with him.
Because not so long ago, I was a girl who fell in love with a handsome football player. Granted, I was a young thing, and he was completely out of my reach and nothing ever happened. So when I wrote the story of Brent and Morgan, it was a complete fantasy for me. I got to play out the romance that I always envisioned for myself.
I really loved writing Dryer, Morgan’s boss, as well. I thought that Morgan needed a father-like figure in her life to help guide her through her relationship with Brent, and Dryer fit that mold perfectly, even if he did come across as slightly sexist sometimes.
In the end, I had the best time writing “In the End Zone.” I fell in love with Brent Larson right alongside Morgan, and I had a little tear in my eye when she said yes to his proposal.
Did you enjoy the book? Make sure to leave a review on Amazon or GoodReads (or both!) and let me know what you think!
Until next time, readers!
-Nacole Mills
Coming Soon from Nacole Mills…
Love Among the Violets
Coming October 1, 2016
The morning sunlight was blinding as it poured in from the bedroom window and the woman raised her hand to shield her eyes. The darkness that she has been lost in for so long had faded from her, and when her eyes adjusted to the light of the room, she found herself confused and scared.
"Where am I?" the woman spoke for the first time in days and her voice was thick and cracking. Her vocal chords ached from not being used and her throat seemed to tighten.
Movement from the other side of the bed caught her eye, and she looked over to see a man looking back at her. She gasped and sat up quickly. "Who are you?" she screeched.
The man put his hands up to calm her, but the woman was so scared and confused. "Please, don’t freak out," the man said. His voice was soothing and pleasant, and sounded familiar, as though it had been guiding her through the darkness. "You have been unconscious for a few days now. You need to take it easy."
Her wide, violet-colored eyes just kept staring. "Who are you?"
"I am Andrew Louis." The man stood and moved away from the bed, meaning to calm her. "I found you a few days ago in the woods. You were knocked out from running from a mountain lion. I brought you back here."
The woman looked around, panicked. "Why was I in the woods?" she asked.
The man, Andrew, shrugged. "I am not sure," he said, "All I know is that I heard a scream and I ran toward it. You were laying on the ground and the mountain lion was bearing down on you."
Those violet eyes looked around frantically. Nothing seemed familiar here. The room, the man, even the bedding was foreign. He must be telling the truth, right?
But then again, the woman looked down at her hands and she saw bracelets that she did not recognize. She saw a ring on her left hand that glittered in the light, but she could not remember where it came from. Her clothes, torn and dirty, were strange. The woman tried to remember something, anything from before the darkness came over her, but no memories would come.
There was nothing.
The woman looked up at Andrew and she felt hot, frightened tears well up in her eyes. "Can... Can you tell me..." She bit back a sob. "Who am I?"
Andrew's dark brown eyes widened at her words. "You don’t know who you are?" His voice did nothing to disguise the disappointment that he seemed to feel.
"No..."She replied in a whisper as she lowered her eyes from him.
Andrew sank onto the bed and he ran his hands over his long beard. The woman watched him as she blinked her tears away. If she had not been so frightened and scared, she would have been staring at his beautiful face and those deep brown eyes. He really was a handsome guy. Her eyes wandered over his body, across his tanned skin that encased long, lean muscles. The woman's stared landed on a beautiful lotus tattoo on his lower arm, and she could not quit staring.
"You really don’t know who you are?" Andrew asked.
The woman shook her head. "I can’t remember anything," she admitted, "I just woke up. It's like there was nothing before this. I know that there was darkness, and your voice sounds familiar. Were you talking to me?"
Andrew looked away from her. "Probably. I don’t know..." He ran his hand over his long, wild brown hair that seemed to stick out wildly all over his head. "Well, we have got to call you something," he said, "Do you favor a name?"
But the woman just shrugged. "I don’t know."
"Well," Andrew looked deep into the woman's eyes, "Maybe we could call you Lisa?"
The woman's nose wrinkled. "I don’t think I like that."
"What about Christie?"
"No, that's not right..."
"Vanessa? Penny? Lucy?"
The woman sighed. Her eyes wandered out the window and her gaze landed on a beautiful, thick patch of violets that grew in the clearing just outside of the cabin. "Oh my, she said. She stood and moved to the window to get a better look at the beautiful purple and yellow flowers. "Those are amazing."
Andrew moved to her side. "Ahh, yeah, that's my violet patch. I moved the plants there last year. They are my favorite flower." The pair stood for a moment in silence, then Andrew said, "You know, your eyes are the same shade of violet as those flowers."
"Really? Violet..." The woman mulled over the word, and something about it just seemed... right. "Violet... Hey!" She turned to Andrew and smiled. "Why don’t you call me Violet?"
"Violet, huh?" Andrew smiled behind his thick, honey-colored beard. "I like that."
The woman sat back
down on the bed, for her legs had grown weak from standing. "Violet," she said, "My name is Violet."
It took a while for Violet to gain her strength back. Every day seemed to be one challenge after another for her. On her first day awake, Andrew forced her to stay in bed as he brought her broth and little bits of bread. Violet grew frustrated with being forced to stay prostrate, but every time she attempted to get up, she would fall and concede.
But the second day, she was able to move to the living room just only a little help. But the third day, she had ventured outside to the spring to get herself some water. And by day four, she was insisting that she was back to her prior self.
"I really want you to take it easy, Violet," Andrew said to her as she rose on the fifth morning, "I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You may still be weak."
But Violet only rolled her eyes. "You don’t need to treat me like a baby, Andrew. I feel fine."
Andrew sighed at her. "Alright, if you insist." There was a looming question between them that Andrew did not want to ask, but he knew that he could not be selfish and keep Violet all to himself. "Do you want me to take you into the town nearby and see if anyone knows anything about who you are? There may be people looking for you."
Violet had not considered that and she mulled the idea over in her mind. Should she try and find out who she was? What if she did have a family that was looking for her? But then again, she liked Andrew. He was sweet and kind and he took such good care of her. They had become a really good team in the few days that she had been up and on her feet. She had learned how to cook on his strange wood burning stove and she had delved right into his collection of books that he kept above his desk.
The pair had also began talking for hours on end almost every day. Andrew talked of lots of things and Violet was enthralled. He talked about his life before the woods and what drove him to leave society behind. Once or twice, he mentioned a book that he wanted to write, but Violet never pressed him about it.