Rushing In (The Blackhawk Boys #2)

by Lexi Ryan

  Rushing In

  The Blackhawk Boys, Book 2

  Lexi Ryan

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  About Rushing In

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  RUSHING IN Playlist

  Other Books by Lexi Ryan

  About the Author

  Rushing In © 2016 by Lexi Ryan

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to institutions or persons, living or dead, is used fictitiously or purely coincidental.

  Cover © 2016 Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Created with Vellum

  For Kimmi

  Acknowledgments

  Even on the hardest, most exhausting days, I am filled with gratitude for the countless people who keep my head above water. I’m so grateful to my husband. He doesn’t just keep me from drowning, he reminds me I need to breathe. I married a man who believes in me and my work, who understands (or at least quietly accepts) my drive to tell all the stories, and who makes the sacrifices necessary when I need to work sixty hours a week to get a book done. Brian, you rock, and I’d very much like to keep you.

  I’m surrounded by a family who supports me every day. To my kids, Jack and Mary, thank you for making me laugh and giving me a reason to work hard. I am so proud to be your mommy. To my mom, brothers, and sisters, thank you for cheering me on—each in your own way. I’m so grateful to have been born into this crazy crew of seven kids.

  This book is for my sister Kim, who wears the cape of Super Mom and wears it proud. My sister Deb wears that cape too, but Kim was my inspiration for Becky, Chris’s mom. Kim, I know being a single mama isn’t easy¸ but you couldn’t have done it better.

  My thanks to my nephew Kai, who doesn’t complain about my random texts with football questions, or even make fun of me when I ask him about slang terms. Thanks for not making me feel as old as I am, and for working out with me. I will never keep up, but it’s fun to try.

  If my family is my rock-solid foundation, my friends are the laughter that fills the rooms. A special shout-out to Mira, my book bestie. Maybe we don’t need to spend two hours on the phone a week, but those calls energize me so much; they feel necessary to #livingthedream and enduring its really effing stressful moments. To my lifting buddy Kylie, my coach Matt, and the entire CrossFit Terre Haute crew. Thank you for teaching me to love picking up heavy things and giving me an outlet I needed more than I ever realized. I’ve been blessed with so many amazing people in my life. You encourage me, you believe in me, and you know how to make me laugh.

  To everyone who provided me feedback on Chris and Grace’s story along the way—especially Annie Swanberg, Heather Carver, Janice Owen, Mira Lyn Kelly, and Samantha Leighton—you’re all awesome. Thank you for helping to make this idea in my head into something worth reading.

  Thank you to the team that helped me package this book and promote it. Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations designed my beautiful cover and did a lovely job branding the series. Rhonda Stapleton and Lauren McKellar, thank you for the insightful line edits. Thanks to Arran McNicol at Editing720 for proofreading. A shout-out to all of the bloggers and reviewers who help spread the word about my books. I am humbled by the time you take out of your busy lives for my stories. You’re the best.

  To my agent, Dan Mandel, for believing in me and staying by my side through tough career decisions. Thanks to you and Stefanie Diaz for getting my books into the hands of readers all over the world. Thank you for being part of my team.

  To my NWBs—Sawyer Bennett, Lauren Blakely, Violet Duke, Jessie Evans, Melody Grace, Monica Murphy, and Kendall Ryan—y’all rock my world. I’m inspired by your tireless work and always encouraged by your friendship. Thank you for being a part of this journey.

  To all my writer friends on Twitter, Facebook, and my various writer loops—especially to the Fast Draft Club and the All Awesome group—thank you for keeping me company during those fourteen-hour work days.

  And last but certainly not least, a big thank-you to my fans. I’ve said it before and I’ll continue to say it every chance I get—you’re the coolest, smartest, best readers in the world. I owe my career to you. You’re the reason I get to do this every day, the reason I want to, and the reason I push myself to better my craft with each book. I appreciate each and every one of you. You’re the best!

  ~Lexi

  About Rushing In

  In the football world, quarterback Christopher Montgomery is known for his cool-headedness, his determination, and his steely self-control. He’s about to meet his match.

  * * *

  The favor seemed simple: Keep my new stepsister out of trouble for one summer.

  I’ve never met Grace Lee, but Mom tells me she’s a quiet and artsy college student with a troubled past. When I agreed to let her stay with me, I thought it was no big deal. I expected to share my apartment with a sullen girl who’d spend hours locked in her room.

  I didn’t expect a walking fantasy determined to make me lose my cool.

  I didn’t expect a woman with secrets so dark, so deep, I’d throw away everything if it would save her from the past.

  Rushing in to do this favor is turning my life upside down—and not just because Grace needs her ass spanked. Keep her out of trouble? Grace is the trouble. And I want in.

  RUSHING IN is a standalone novel and the second in The Blackhawk Boys series.

  Football. Secrets. Lies. Passion. These boys don’t play fair. Which Blackhawk Boy will steal your heart?

  Book 1 - SPINNING OUT (Arrow’s story)

  Book 2 - RUSHING IN (Christopher’s story)

  Book 3 - GOING UNDER (Sebastian’s story - Coming late 2016)

  More Blackhawk Boys titles to be announced in 2017!

  Chapter One

  Grace

  Before I met Dad’s girlfriend, Becky Dupree, for the first time, my mom described her as “loose and easy—the kind of woman
who likes cheap tequila and kinky sex with strange men.”

  Naturally, I decided Becky was going to be my new best friend. By the time I figured out Becky was nothing like my mom had described, she’d already won me over with her big heart and bigger hair. She’s a native of Champagne, Texas, after all, and from what I can tell, half the middle-aged women in this city didn’t get the memo that the early nineties died and took their Aqua Net with them.

  My new stepmother-to-be might not like cheap tequila, as Mom promised, but she does like good coffee, which is why, even though I’m running a little late for our dress-shopping date, I’m stopping at the Common Grind before meeting with her. Personally, I don’t like coffee. That term is too casual and speaks nothing of my true devotion to the sacred brew. I require coffee. At this point, I may be more roasted bean than flesh and blood. And in the likely chance that this old-fashioned Texan’s idea of the “perfect” bridesmaid’s dress for me includes sequins or a big pink bow on my butt, I’d like something warm and comforting to get me through it.

  I take a breath and push through the doors of the coffee shop where I worked last summer, my mind on my mocha and my mocha on my mind.

  A blast of air conditioning smacks me in the face, and I lift my chin and take long strides to the counter, where I give my order to a greasy-haired guy I’ve never seen before.

  “Two mocha lattes, coming right up.” He takes my money, and I keep my eyes cast down, afraid to see who else is working today.

  Unfortunately, the whole “see no evil” strategy isn’t effective.

  “I heard you were spending the summer in Indiana,” someone says behind the espresso machine.

  I force myself to meet the gaze of my former coworker. “Hi, Jewel.”

  “Did you run out of guys to fuck in Champagne?”

  My gut churns with something as sour as spoiled milk and hot as lava. I don’t like the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I’m in this town. The feeling I had when I was fourteen and my dad stopped looking me in the eye. The feeling I had when I was stupid enough to end last summer with a bang. I went to a party, drank too much, and exercised my consistently poor judgment.

  I didn’t think I was the kind of girl to sleep with a friend’s crush, but though I remember very little of that night, my brain has supplied me with enough mental snippets that I know enough to regret. Typical Easy Gee-Gee.

  The next morning, all the girls I worked with at the coffee shop treated me as if I were a walking STD, and it was like I was fourteen all over again. I thought Jewel would have forgiven me by now, but obviously I was wrong.

  “Oh!” The greasy-haired guy at the register claps his hands then points at me. “You’re Gee-Gee Lee! Damn!” He looks at his watch. “I have a break in ten minutes if you wanna head out back.” He grabs his crotch. “You know what I’m talkin’ about?”

  Hot lava surges into my throat again. Burning. My reputation precedes me. Fucking wonderful.

  “Not a chance,” I mutter, but there’s no sting in my words because my voice has gone small, and I hate that, hate it as much as this feeling in my gut that I lost myself last summer, that I slipped back into old habits, that I got drunk and let myself once again believe the lie that I’m only as good as the number of men who want me, the number of dicks I get hard. I hate that this town makes me feel like I’m the slut they decided I was when I was fourteen.

  “Two mochas, was it?” Jewel asks before spitting into two cups. She snickers, and the sound makes my chest ache. She and I were never close, but by the end of last summer, I considered her my friend.

  What I did with Isaac ended that.

  I turn around, my quest for caffeine abandoned, and head for the door, moving fast enough that I can pretend I don’t hear her mutter ugly words. “Easy Gee-Gee.”

  I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not that girl anymore. But I’m not sure of anything.

  * * *

  “Oh, honey!” Becky throws her hands over her mouth as I step out of my dressing room. “Oh, you just look so classy, sweetheart.”

  I bite back hysterical laughter. “Classy” is not a word people use to describe me, and to be fair, it’s not a characteristic I’ve ever strived for. But from Becky, and after my encounter with Jewel at the coffee shop, it’s the best kind of compliment. I like it more than I want to.

  “You do look nice, dear,” my father says, his thumbs tucked into his pockets. My dad’s a big guy, a former police officer who keeps his back to the wall and always stands with his legs spread wide, looking as if he’s bracing for a fight.

  Becky steps up to me and takes my shoulders. “Do you think it covers too much?”

  Since I’m the only bridesmaid, Becky decided she’d wait until I came into town before we picked out my bridesmaid dress. I secretly love that she’s laidback enough to let me buy something off the rack for her big day.

  Dad grunts. “If it were up to me, it would cover more.”

  Becky rolls her eyes. “She’s a beautiful young woman, Eddy.”

  Dad makes a face and steps back, relinquishing control of the wardrobe decisions to his bride-to-be. I love that she calls him Eddy. Everyone—including my mom—has called my dad Edward for as long as I can remember. Occasionally someone will call him Ed, but I sincerely doubt anyone before Becky Dupree ever had the balls to call him Eddy.

  I turn to the wall of mirrors to study myself. The simple black sheath dress is long and three-quarter-sleeved. It covers all my tattoos except the ivy on my shoulder blades. If I didn’t already love Becky, I would love her now for giving me an opportunity to object to covering so much skin.

  But this dress isn’t about Becky wanting me covered up. She’s never been like that. In fact, when she met me last October, I think she was downright delighted by my then-pink hair, crazy wardrobe, and loud personality. She’s never made me feel like I need to tone myself down or cover myself up, and now she’s doing what she does best with me—making it absolutely clear that she’s not asking me to do it for her wedding, either.

  “I think it’s nice.” It’s gorgeous, but I’d have been happy to wear something that was less my style, as long as it wasn’t God-awful lavender or bubblegum pink or covered with that itchy lace that makes my skin all red and blotchy.

  Dad nods. “I’m glad my girls agree.” He kisses Becky’s forehead. “You have my credit card. I’ll be in the golf pro shop when you need me. Take your time.”

  Becky watches him go before turning back to me with a sweet smile. “Thanks for not giving your dad a hard time about this summer. We appreciate you agreeing to stay with Dash.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” I shift awkwardly. I don’t want to talk about my summer plans, and I definitely don’t want Becky psychoanalyzing my motivations for them. Dad asked me to stay with my stepbrother because he thinks I need a babysitter. I agreed because I don’t want to live in Champagne, Texas.

  “I told Eddy you’re a big girl and you can stay at the house by yourself. I don’t want you to think we were worried you were going to throw wild parties or something. But you know your dad. You’ll always be his baby girl, and he couldn’t stand the idea of you being alone here with no one around to watch out for you.”

  “Come on.” I grin and nudge my soon-to-be stepmother. “Who wouldn’t want to stay in rural Indiana for a wild summer while they’re in college? Isn’t that on every girl’s bucket list?”

  Becky laughs. “Blackhawk Valley is really pretty. I’ve seen it for myself. And Dash has a nice group of friends there. But it’s no New York.”

  “Are you sure Dash doesn’t mind me staying with him?” I already asked Dad this same question, and he was all, “Why would he mind? Are you planning to make his life difficult? Make yourself useful, and no one will ever mind having you around.” The conversation ended there.

  “I’m sure,” Becky says. “I’d feel bad for asking the favor, but I think you two will get along.”

  I don’t know much about my futur
e stepbrother, and I haven’t bothered finding out more. I know he’s a football player, which is a strike against him, but not all guys who play football are assholes. Or so they tell me.

  He’s Becky’s son, which is a mark in his favor, because Becky is one of the best people I’ve ever met in my life. Not only does she make my dad happy—which I honestly didn’t think was possible—but she’s also really fun to be around, and her goodness shines right through her smile.

  But the primary mark in Dash’s favor is that he doesn’t live in Champagne, Texas, and on my list of requirements for summer housing, “Not Champagne” is number one. If my stepbrother is going to be my ticket out of the armpit of Texas for the summer, he’s all right by me.

  “I’ll stay out of his way,” I promise. “I don’t want him to feel like I’m interrupting his life.”

  “He won’t feel that way at all,” she says. “Dash is a good boy and always has been. He’s helpful and does what he’s asked.”

  I swallow back a gag and paste on a smile. I don’t want to spend my summer with an asshole by any means, but if he’s half as sweet as his mom makes him out to be, I might fall into a coma from boredom before I even make it back to the city.

  “He’s sweet and thoughtful, too,” she adds.

  “He must get that from you.”

  “Ha!” She bumps my shoulder with one of hers. “I wish I could take credit for it, but I was just a single mom trying to get by. I think that’s the way he was born. I really wish you would have come home to meet him this spring. He’s excited to get to know you.”

  “Sorry about that.” I shift my gaze to the sheer hem that lands above my knees. “I couldn’t justify the time away from school.” I turn around to avoid her eyes. “Would you mind unzipping me?”