Quarterback Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)

by Claire Adams

  For the past three days, I had been a nervous wreck, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had seen Milo in my rearview mirror on Thanksgiving. I had a horrible suspicion he had figured it out. He a stricken expression on his face, and I knew it wasn’t the food.

  Dad hadn’t said a word about anything, so I assumed my secret was safe. I couldn’t imagine how that conversation would have gone. What would Milo say? He damn sure wouldn’t come right out and ask if Ainsley was his. Would he?

  I whipped into the teacher’s parking lot, grabbed my bag and rushed inside. I waved to the secretaries at the front desk, flashed my badge at the security guards and headed down the hall to my classroom.

  “Hello, everyone!” I said, breezing into the classroom.

  I didn’t dare ask how anyone’s holiday was. I knew most of these kids were living in dire situations. Some didn’t have homes at all. Others were in homes that were not safe. It was extremely difficult not to take them all home with me at night.

  “Who’s got the playlist today?” I asked.

  One of my young students raised his hand and brought me his phone. Yes, a phone. These kids didn’t have great homes or a full pantry, but every one of them had a phone.

  “Thank you, Brayden. I’ll review this and we’ll play it later. Everyone, get your math books out and let’s get started.”

  There was a lot of groaning. I hated breaks. It always threw everyone off their game, including myself. Keeping fifth graders enthused about math wasn’t easy. It was harder after a break when the routine had been broken.

  “Okay, okay, let me give this playlist a quick listen and we’ll go that route,” I sighed.

  There was a cacophony of cheers as the students relaxed a bit.

  I grabbed my headphones out of my purse and plugged them into the device. Most of the songs were typical of the popular Top 40 stuff. I deleted a couple of songs that had some questionable lyrics and bad language and declared it was appropriate for the classroom.

  “Okay, guys! Let’s rock!”

  I plugged the auxiliary cord into the phone and turned up the music. My methods were different, but I found music to be very effective. The principal warned me about the music being too loud and too distracting, but I knew she was wrong. I had seen first-hand how much easier it was for the kids to do their math with some noise in the background.

  “I want everyone to do the problems on page sixty-eight,” I instructed.

  It was easier to do a little review than try to teach new concepts the day after a break. Another lesson learned the hard way.

  I was a great teacher. I knew that. I had worked hard and been responsible all my life. My one night of freedom from my inner drill sergeant had resulted in Ainsley. I would never regret having my daughter. I regretted she didn’t get to have a daddy around, but it wasn’t all that unheard of these days. I had a beautiful life, and I refused to let one very sexy quarterback ruin it all.

  I had prepared for this day, just in case. I had always known that it was possible for my secret to be exposed.

  Once my last class for the day was out, I was the one breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Bye, everyone! See you tomorrow!”

  At least I hoped I would see them all tomorrow. In this day and age, one never knew. Last year, one of my students had been killed in a drive-by shooting. It wasn’t until the moment I heard the news and could put a face to the victim that I realized how rough life was for my students. It made me work harder. I wanted them to get an education and get the hell out of where they lived. I loved teaching. I remembered the moment I found out I was pregnant. Despite the overwhelming fear and terror at becoming a mother, I suddenly felt this crazy protective fire down in my soul. I wanted to protect all kids.

  I made it out of the school and quickly rushed to Vanessa’s house.

  “Hi! How was she?” I asked, hoping Ainsley had been on her best behavior. She was a spunky kid and could be a handful.

  “She was fine. You know I love her.”

  “Thank you. You are truly a godsend.”

  I managed to corral Ainsley and get her into the car. The drive home was filled with chatter from Ainsley, telling me about everything she had done during the day and making sure to point out what she didn’t like, including not being able to have seconds on ice cream.

  Once home, she thankfully settled down in her room to play with her dolls. That gave me time to pull out the envelope I had hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk. I had a stack of bills on top just in case anyone happened to do any snooping around.

  I pulled them out, took a deep breath and opened the envelope. The legal papers were all in order. All I needed was Milo to sign. To get him to sign, I would have to admit the child was his. It would mean I had to actually see him and talk to him.

  I put my hands in my hair and rubbed my head.

  “What’s wrong, Mom? Do you have a headache?”

  I smiled. “A little one. I’m going to make dinner. What do you vote for?”

  “Ice cream!”

  “No, ice cream. How about hamburgers?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “We had hamburgers for lunch.”

  “Oh, okay, how about meatloaf?”

  That made her eyes light up. “Yes!”

  “Alright, meatloaf it is.”

  She bounced out to the living room, and I could hear the television. I returned my focus to the paperwork in front of me.

  Would he sign? I couldn’t imagine him actually putting up a fight. What playboy quarterback would want to be responsible for a kid?

  A thought occurred to me. He was probably panicking over child support. I didn’t want a penny from that man. I didn’t need it. I quickly reviewed the paperwork, making double sure it was stipulated that no child support would be paid. All he had to do was sign away his parental rights and keep his mouth shut. No harm, no foul.

  Now I just had to get him to go for it. I put the paperwork back in the envelope and stashed it back in its safe spot before heading into the kitchen to start dinner. I watched Ainsley as she danced along to the show she was watching. Her red hair was bouncing as she danced.

  “Mom, I want a dog,” she said out of nowhere.

  “Ainsley, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We live in an apartment. The dog wouldn’t have anywhere to run,” I explained for what was probably the hundredth time.

  “Mom,” she whined.

  “Ainsley,” I shot back.

  She growled and went back to bouncing around the living room. I didn’t know Milo all that well, but I had a feeling her personality came from him. She wasn’t just stubborn. She was very confident and wasn’t afraid to tell anyone exactly how she felt. It was her biggest downfall and one of the things I admired most about her. I had always been shy and willing to accept whatever I was told. Not my daughter. No one was going to keep her down.

  Thankfully, she settled in, and I was able to get busy on dinner.

  “Time to eat!” I called from the kitchen.

  Hungry as always, she came right in, plopped down, and we ate our dinner together. It had always been the two of us. I couldn’t imagine sharing her with anyone else. It was Ainsley and me. I didn’t want to worry about what holidays I would get her or involving anyone else in the decision-making process when it came to choosing schools or what doctors she went to. Ainsley was mine. I knew her best, and I knew what was best for her.

  Aware I was being selfish, I didn’t care. I had put in the time. I was the one who had dealt with the first ear infection and helped her learn to walk. I was the one who had to put up with the child during the terrible twos and the horrific threes. I deserved to have her all to myself. If Milo refused to sign the papers and tried to come after me for custody, I would fight him tooth and nail. I had a feeling my dad would also step in.

  “Why are you smiling?” Ainsley asked.

  I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about Papa.”

  “W
hat about him?”

  I grinned. “I was thinking about how much he loves you and me, and how much he would do for us.”

  She didn’t look all that impressed by my words. One day she would. Then another thought struck me. Ainsley would never know the love of a father. Oh my God. What was I taking from her? Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought about my relationship with my father. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. How could I deny my own daughter that same love? What was I doing?

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy? You look like you are going to cry. Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head, blinked a few times and wiped my face. “I’m fine. I was just thinking of something sad. I’m okay.”

  We went through the rest of our evening routine with me telling her it was time for a bath, and her arguing. The same thing at bedtime—she fought against it and I pushed back until I prevailed. Same old dance every night. Once I finally had her tucked in, I treated myself to a glass of wine.

  Leaning back on the couch, I sipped the wine, my mind a mess. My life had been going along so perfectly, until my dad just had to have Milo on his team. Now, everything I loved and held dear was being threatened.

  I had to find a way to get Milo to agree to my terms. I couldn’t let him waltz into my life and destroy everything. My father would be so disappointed to learn what I had done. I’d always told him Ainsley’s father had been a boyfriend in college who wanted nothing to do with Ainsley. It was kind of true, except for the part about the boyfriend bit. I was not about to admit to my father that Ainsley was the product of a one-night-stand.

  Dammit. Why Milo?

  Chapter 10

  Milo

  Shit. I can’t get it together. I know I’m completely embarrassing myself and pissing off the coaches as well as my teammates. My hands feel like sausages, and I have no control over the ball. I may as well kick the damn thing with as much precision as I have throwing it.

  “Pastek!” I heard my name being shouted from the sidelines. “Pull your head out of your ass!”

  I didn’t even have to look over to see who it was. I knew it was Coach Summers.

  “Yeah, Pastek, pull your head out of your ass. Maybe you’d like Joe to throw the ball for you,” one of the backs grumbled as he walked past.

  “Oh, hell yeah,” said Joe, one of the biggest men I’d ever seen in my life, as he grinned through his face mask. “I’ll throw the ball. Maybe I can show you a thing or two about what it means to get it down the field.”

  “Sorry, guys. No excuses. I’ll get it,” I promised, hoping like hell I could follow through on that pledge.

  My head was not in the game. Or practice. Or football in general. All I could think about was a little girl with red hair. It was throwing me way off. I couldn’t seem to get the ball down the field. Dead ducks is what I kept hearing. I couldn’t get defensive and argue. They were right. I was sucking hard today. My head felt completely disjointed from my body. Everything I had learned about throwing a ball over the last fifteen years had been replaced with images of a hot blond riding me in my dorm room five years ago.

  “Got a turkey hangover? Woman on the brain?” one of the guys asked. “Maybe this is how bad you really are? Explains why your ass was riding the bench all last season. I can’t wait until we can get a real quarterback on the team,” he mumbled before walking away.

  I took several deep breaths, got back in the lineup and vowed to make this next throw a good one.

  Shit!

  “I’m right here!” the receiver yelled up the field, his arms waving in the air.

  I overshot, by a lot. It would have been a great pass if there had been someone there to catch it, I mused.

  “Pastek! Sideline, now!” Coach Summers yelled.

  I groaned, knowing what was coming. I jogged off the field and headed for Coach. Walking would probably get me killed and would certainly warrant another lecture.

  “Yeah, Coach?” I asked.

  “What the hell is going on out there? I could get a high school kid to throw passes like that!” he shouted through my facemask. “You realize this is the God damned NFL, right? This is where the big boys play! Are you good enough to play with the big boys, Pastek?”

  I nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, I am. You’re right coach. I’m off. I’m going to do better.”

  “Focus! I don’t know what kind of shit you stirred up over the past two days but fix it and get your shit together! Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Get your ass out there and prove to me I didn’t waste my time getting you on this team!”

  “I will, Coach,” I said, before turning and running back onto the field.

  I had to pull it together. I couldn’t keep going like this. I had to talk to Liza and straighten things out. I could be wrong. I could be getting all freaked out for no reason at all. Instead of wondering and assuming, getting stressed out for nothing, I would just have to ask her point blank. I was pretty confident I would be able to tell if she was being honest. At least I hoped so. I had to know.

  Right now, though, I had to throw a pass or I was going to find myself out of a job. I took several deep breaths and shook out the nerves by shaking my arms and hands.

  “You going to throw the ball or you going to stand there and use your jazz hands?” one of my receivers sneered.

  I ignored the insults. I couldn’t afford to let them get in my head, too. Liza had already done a great job of doing just that. It was as if she got in there with that kid and jumbled my brain. I couldn’t think straight.

  I managed to get through the next hour of practice without completely blowing it, but I was not up to par. I knew that. I felt like shit over it and knew the guys were certainly not going to let me forget it. I walked into the locker room with my head hung low. I’d fucked up royally. I knew that. I had let down my coach and the team I was trying to win over.

  I’d already showered and was getting dressed when I heard Coach request to see me. I already knew what was coming and ignored the snide remarks and names the other guys were whispering. I had let them down, no doubt. They didn’t like me already, and I wasn’t doing anything to win their trust or respect on the field or in the locker room.

  I was at one of the lowest points of my life, and these guys had no qualms about kicking me while I was down. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t argue and tell them to shut the fuck up. I just ignored them and let them say what they wanted. I couldn’t dispute it. Not yet. I would. At least I hoped I would.

  “Hey, Coach,” I said, knocking on his office door.

  He was reading some paperwork. He looked up and gestured for me to come in.

  “Shut the door,” he ordered.

  I did as I was told and sat down in the chair across from his desk, waiting for my lecture.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and then stared at me for several long, drawn-out seconds.

  “Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  I shook my head. Hell no, I didn’t want to tell him what was going on. He would probably shoot me.

  “Something is off. You weren’t great last week, but you were a damn sight better than you were today. This is not you. I haven’t seen you throw this bad since freshman year. Something is not right. If you don’t want to tell me, fine, but we need to figure out where this goes from here,” he said, disappointment in his voice.

  “Coach, it was an off day. I know that. I got some stuff going on, but it isn’t anything I can’t take care of, and I will. You’re not wasting your time on me, I swear. I can do this. Today, it just, I don’t know, I just couldn’t get my head into it,” I admitted.

  “No shit, Milo,” he said, with a great deal of frustration.

  “I won’t let this happen again. I promise. I will pull it together. I should have figured it out before I ever stepped onto the field today, but I didn’t.”

  “Is this over a woman?”

  “No,” I lied. It was, but not like
he thought. “This is something from my past that I have to work out. I promise you; I will. Tomorrow, I will be better.”

  “You damn well better be. I don’t have to tell you that both of our careers are riding on this. We have a game on Sunday, and we have to prove to the fans, the owners, and your teammates that putting you on this team was the right move. I think you know what happens if we can’t do that,” he said, in a voice that was filled with tension.

  “I completely understand.”

  “Good. Now get out of here and go fix whatever it is you broke,” he grumbled.

  I stood, ready to leave.

  “Milo, make sure you stop by the team doctor and get that form signed. You can’t play on Sunday if you’re not cleared.”

  “I will. Sorry, I forgot to do it last week,” I mumbled, realizing I just kept screwing up.

  “Seems to be a trend,” he shot back.

  I sighed and headed out the door. The few remaining guys in the locker room all shot me glares as I walked through. I didn’t bother glaring back. Instead, I headed straight for the team doctor. I had to show coach I was serious. This wasn’t college. Back in those days, I could skate by. Not today. This was my actual job. If I didn’t perform, I didn’t get paid. I got fired. If I got fired, I was going to be completely screwed. I had no real money saved. I had no actual job skills. I had no contacts within the industry to get a job working as a coach or even a sportscaster.

  This was it for me. My job as an NFL quarterback was all I had. If it turned out that little girl was mine, I didn’t want to be the loser showing up without child support or the ability to buy her gifts. I wasn’t going to be that guy. This was the exact reason I never wanted to have kids. I didn’t want the pressure or responsibility of taking care of a child.

  I knew if I fucked up, I would be adding another kid to the system. I would never do that to anyone. Of course, I was being dramatic in this particular case. Liza was obviously doing just fine on her own. She didn’t need me and obviously didn’t want me in Ainsley’s life, which just pissed me off even more.