Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel

by Celia Loren

"Sort of. I'm Lou McKay's daughter." Her face looks blank, so I explain further. "His coach from college, sort of his mentor now."

  "Right," she nods, though it seemed like she's never heard of him, which is surprising considering how big a part of his life he's been.

  We watch the rest of the quarter in silence, punctuated by the sounds of Max cheering for Hunter. I grin as I watch him down on the field. I feel just like I did in college when I got to see his home games, except for the kid moving around on my lap. Hunter might be taken by the woman to my left, and I would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship, but I can't change the way I feel.

  When the halftime show starts, I take Max back inside to the restroom, and then to the buffet table again. I make him try the ranch dressing with a baby carrot before putting a generous dollop on his plate. Sometimes his eyes are bigger than his stomach, and he forgets what kinds of food he likes.

  I take him back to our seats. Allyson is texting on her phone, and I carefully step over her legs, then put Max on the ground and hand him his little plate of food. He munches happily on a carrot as he watches the cheerleaders and begins to wiggle his body. Suddenly, I hear a gasp.

  "Uh-oh," Max says. I look over, and see Allyson raising her leg. Her pretty ankle boot has ranch dressing on the toe, and Max's plate is on the ground.

  "I'm so sorry!" I exclaim as I jump up. "Let me get a wet napkin and we'll clean that right up. Max, say you're sorry," I instruct him.

  "These are suede, you little shit!" Allyson screams at him, her pretty face contorting.

  Max's face bunches up, and he cries. I put my arm forward and pull him behind my leg protectively.

  "Please don't talk to my son that way," I say as calmly as I can. "It was an accident."

  "These boots cost like five hundred dollars, and you're paying for them," Allyson hisses.

  "It's just a little spot. I'm sure I can clean them up if you give me—"

  "They're ruined. And you shouldn't give your little brat a plate if he can't fucking hold it," she says.

  "Sorry," Max sniffles behind me.

  "I'll make sure to get your information from Hunter and send you a check," I tell Allyson. "Come on, Max," I say, scooping him up. "We can watch the rest of the game from home." I carry him out of the box without looking back, and pull him tighter on the elevator ride down.

  "Sorry, Mama," he says again.

  "I know it was just an accident, Max," I tell him, kissing his moist little cheeks. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

  "She was mad," he says worriedly.

  "I know, but that wasn't your fault, I promise. Why don't we stop for ice cream, and we'll still have time to catch the last quarter. Sound good?"

  Max nods, and rests his head on my chest. I fume silently. There was no excuse for Allyson Anders to talk that way to a child. It pains me to think of Hunter with someone like that, but he's made his choice.

  Chapter 30

  Hunter

  I frown as I listen to the message again. "Hey Hunter! You were playing great, but Max and I had to head home! Thanks again for the tickets."

  Even after all these years, I can still hear when something is off in Britt's voice. She sounds a little too upbeat. Though I guess her life must be pretty different with a kid now, not being able to do exactly what she wants. Maybe Max was bored and wanted to leave.

  As I head out the player's entrance and through a phalanx of barely-restrained photographers, Allyson launches herself through the security line and into my arms.

  "Great win, baby!" she exclaims, and gives me a big kiss. I grit my teeth as I kiss her back, aware of all the camera flashes around us. "See, we're both getting such amazing publicity!" she says with a smile.

  "Mmhm," I murmur back. She grabs my hand and we walk off toward the parking lot.

  "Can you give me a ride? I got kinda blitzed on champagne during the game."

  "I thought you were in recovery," I say as I toss my duffel bag in the backseat of my black Range Rover.

  "Not really. That's just what my publicist had to say."

  "You certainly keep her busy." I start the car and head out of the parking lot. Suddenly Allyson reaches over and rubs her hand over my crotch.

  "You ever had road head?"

  "Yes," I tell her honestly.

  "Oh. Well, want it again?"

  I can't deny that my cock's starting to stiffen, but I'm exhausted from the game, and Allyson's sudden appearance rubbed me the wrong way.

  "Not right now," I tell her, pushing her hand away.

  "This is about that girl, isn't it?"

  "What girl?" I ask with a frown.

  "The one in your box during the game."

  "You went up to the box?"

  "Yeah, what am I going to do, sit in the fucking stands?"

  "Why would you think it's about her?"

  "Don't avoid the question! I could tell you guys are fucking by the way that she was looking at you."

  A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I suppress it. "Allyson, we're not actually engaged. I can sleep with whoever I want." I might be in this car with Allyson now, but my mind is with Britt. Does she still have feelings for me? What if Allyson's jealousy led her to see things that aren't there?

  "So you are sleeping with her!" Allyson snaps.

  "For the record, I'm not, okay?" I reply impatiently.

  "Honestly, that's smart of you. She's got a kid, and I could not imagine having to deal with that little brat on a regular basis."

  "Max? He's sweet."

  "Ugh, no he's not. Look what he did!" She lifts her leg and places her foot on the dashboard. I glance over at her boot as she points to it.

  "What?"

  "Right there! He spilled dressing all over it!"

  "I'm sure it was an accident."

  "That doesn't matter! And when I called him on it, that girl got all defensive. Whatever, he was being a little shit."

  My hands tense on the steering wheel. "You called Max a little shit?"

  "Um, yeah. He was being one." I feel anger roil through me and pull the car over to the side of the road. "What are you doing?" Allyson asks as I hop out and march over to the passenger side of the car. I yank open her door.

  "Out," I order her.

  "Why?" she asks suspiciously, though she complies. I take out my wallet and push a hundred-dollar bill toward her.

  "Call a cab. We're done," I say.

  "What!?" she shrieks. "I'm famous! You can't just leave me here!"

  I glance around at the plush neighborhood we're driving through. "I think you'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Tim McGraw and Faith Hill live right over there if you want to ring their doorbell."

  I get back behind the wheel as Allyson screams in frustration. As I pull the car away, she throws her pocket book and it smacks against my rear window. She actually doesn't have a bad arm.

  My thoughts return to Britt. I hate the way my heart leapt in my chest when Allyson said she was looking at me. The woman bashed my life on the fucking rocks. She completely disappeared. Even if she does have feelings for me and we could get back together, my dignity won't allow it. I'm an NFL quarterback, for fuck's sake.

  Chapter 31

  Britt

  "Britt, I think that stack of napkins is straight," Danielle says. I glance up and see her staring at me, and then look down at the napkins on the dining room table. I'm throwing my dad a sixtieth birthday party at the house today, and I invited a slew of his former players. Of course Hunter Phillips, dad's protégé, scored an invite.

  "How long have I been fiddling with these?" I ask myself.

  "More importantly, where'd your head go?"

  "I'm guessing you already know the answer to that question," I say, sitting down in a chair.

  "I'm guessing I do."

  I give a quick glance to the kitchen to make sure my dad isn't around. "It was easier when we were back in Oregon," I tell Danielle quietly. "I mean, it was tough, don't get me wrong. I ran myself
ragged caring for Max and working and making sure I got my degree. And my dad offering to pay for graduate school has been a godsend. I'll be able to get my Ph.D. and become a psychologist and actually be able to provide Max with a good life…"

  "But…"

  "In Oregon it was easier to pretend like I wasn't doing something horribly wrong. Hunter has already missed out on the first three and a half years of his son's life." Tears drip down my cheeks. "The guilt is eating me up inside."

  Danielle takes my hand. "I can't pretend that there isn't some truth to what you're saying, but don't forget that you made the best decision you knew how to make at the time. We were only eighteen. And maybe you were right, maybe Hunter would have resented you if you told him back then. There's no way to know."

  "I want to tell him now, but I don't want to ruin his new life. He's engaged. He's done so well for himself."

  "Partly thanks to you."

  "Seeing how good he is with Max...I think I love him even more now than I did in college."

  "I think you know already what you want to do."

  I nod. "I have to tell him. Thanks for always telling it to me straight," I say, giving her a hug. I head to the bathroom to wash my face and reapply my makeup after ruining it with tears, and soon the guests begin to arrive. I thought Max might be overwhelmed by all the action, so I hired a sitter to take him over to her house for a while.

  I keep careful tabs on my dad. His physical therapy is over now and his right side has recovered completely, but I'm worried about him getting overtired by the party. I wanted to show my gratefulness to him by throwing this celebration for him, so it's important to me that he enjoys himself.

  He looks like he's enjoying himself now. He's got a beer in one hand and a rib in the other, and he's talking with a few of his former assistant coaches who have since moved on. There are people from the Vanover administration here, a bunch of former players and coaches, and some people from the neighborhood. Everyone came to show support and make sure their favorite tough guy is recovering. The house is bustling, and people are spilling out into the backyard where the barbecue is set up. I hired a couple people to help out with cooking and cleanup and everything, but bought and prepared everything myself.

  Hunter's not the only NFL player my dad's coached. He might be the highest-profile, but there's probably a pretty solid professional team to be sourced right from this house. It's tough to see over all the tall men around, and I feel a little thrill at the sidelong glances I get from some of them. Sometimes with being a mom, I forget that I'm also a woman.

  The atmosphere changes a little, and I can tell without looking that Hunter's walked in. There are a couple of cheers from his old teammates, and I quickly run my hands over the white sundress I've chosen for today. I know he's off-limits, but I can't help wanting to look good when I see him.

  "Hey, who's that?" Danielle asks, sidling up to me. "Right there." She points without trying to be too conspicuous.

  "Oh, that's Hunter best friend from college. Adam Fry," I tell her, glancing over at a cute guy in a nice blazer. We never actually met, but Hunter talked about him, and as a former player for my dad, he got an invite. "He was a wide receiver, I think."

  "What does that mean?" she whispers.

  "One of the guys who catches the ball and tries to make touchdowns. I think he went pro for a couple years, but never made first-string."

  "Is he married? God, he's cute. You know, I think he might have been on that calendar I had."

  I smile at her. "So you've still got a thing for football players."

  "What can I say?" she says with a grin. "How do I look?"

  "Great. Go get him," I tell her. "Oh! It was the Bengals he played for. Maybe that's your conversation starter."

  I watch her sashay over, and then look around to see where Hunter's gone. I walk around the house, then spot him in the backyard. He's got a full plate of food, and is surrounded by a bunch of his old teammates. I talk with a couple partygoers in the dining room, keeping Hunter in my peripheral vision. Finally, he finishes his food and dumps his paper plate in the trash can, then heads toward the back door. I walk over to intercept him, making it look like I'm just catching him by accident.

  "Hey! Thanks again for those tickets," I say.

  "Yep," he replies, then turns to leave. He's radiating coldness, and I'm thrown, but I know I need to press forward.

  "Do you think we could have lunch sometime? There's something I need to talk to you about," I ask nervously.

  "Sorry, I'm pretty busy," he says brusquely.

  He's never spoken to me like this before, even when we'd just met. "Is everything okay? Is this about Allyson's boots? I sent her a check."

  His eyes flash, and he leans down. I'm distracted by the heat from his body, but the anger in his eyes transfixes me. "No, it's not about some fucking boots. Did you forget how you ditched me by email? You didn't even give me the courtesy of saying it to my face and then you show up here and act like everything is fine between us. How fucking narcissistic are you, Britt?" he hisses.

  I reel back. "I'm sorry," I gasp, the full weight of my actions hitting me like a punch to the face. "You're right. I'm so sorry."

  I turn and walk away as quickly as I can through the party without attracting attention. I bite the inside of my lip hard to keep from crying, but my tears are in danger of spilling over onto my cheeks. I make it to the stairs before they do, and hurry up to my childhood bedroom. Only when I shut the door behind me do I let out a sob.

  I'm such an idiot. Of course Hunter hasn't forgiven me. I was naïve to think he would have when I haven't even talked with him about what happened. And worse, if he's still so mad at me, how will he ever accept Max?

  I sit down on my bed in defeat. The room looks completely different than when I was in college. When I left, my dad chucked out all my stuff and turned it into a guest room. The first time I saw it without all my things was pretty jarring, but I can't blame him. I pull a tissue from the bedside table and try to regain control of my breath.

  There's a knock at the door. "Just a second!" I call, but the door opens. Hunter stands in the doorway. I leap to my feet. "Oh, I was just, um…" I stammer. He steps in and closes the door behind him.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that."

  "I understand why you did," I tell him. He paces back and forth in front of me, his muscles rippling as he runs his hands through his short blonde hair.

  "I was happy to see you at first, but fuck, I'm still so fucking pissed! I can't just let it go! You destroyed me, you know that?" he asks, stopping and turning to me, his dark brown eyes full of pain and anger. "For months, food lost its taste. I couldn't sleep. My grades hit the shitter. Was it all bullshit? Did you ever care about me at all?"

  "I loved you," I whisper, my voice breaking. Seeing him like this is the worst pain I've ever felt.

  "Then how could you leave like that?" he demands.

  "I have thought about you every single day," I tell him, taking a step forward. "I—no, I'm sorry. I know that you've found someone you're happy with, and I would never...all I want is for you to be happy, Hunter. That's all I've ever wanted."

  "Allyson and I aren't engaged," he says with a sigh. "We never really were. I just agreed to go along with it because she needed some good publicity."

  "What? Seriously?" I ask, my eyes widening. All of a sudden the air between us feels charged with electricity. He takes a step forward and I forget to breathe.

  "Britt," he murmurs, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. I stare up at him. "You still smell the same."

  "You, too," I whisper.

  "Oh, fuck it," he grunts, and presses his lips over mine.

  Chapter 32

  Hunter

  I pull off her dress like an animal in heat. I've never felt such urgency. Four years of frustration have built up to this moment, and I'm finally touching her again.

  I yank the cups of her bra down and then wra
p my arms around her waist and lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and I duck my head down, pulling her left nipple into my mouth. I suck hard on it, then give it a bite before moving to the other one. Britt's head is tilted back, and she's struggling to keep her moans quiet.

  I deposit her back onto the floor, and then yank down her underwear to the floor and turn her around. I pull a condom out of my back pocket, and then unzip my jeans and push them and my boxers to the floor. I don't have time for any more foreplay. Four years was foreplay enough.

  I roll the condom on, then press her down onto the bed. I stick two fingers into her pussy, and grunt as I feel how wet she is, so ready for me. I step forward and plunge my cock inside her.

  Britt buries her face into the bedspread as she lets out a scream of pleasure. I thrust inside her again. I move faster and harder. As I look down at her, taking all of my cock inside her, I feel all the pain and frustration and anger I felt when she left, and at the same time, how good it feels to be inside her again. I plunge a finger inside her ass, and she gasps. She's mine again, and I want her to fucking know it.

  I slide my other hand under her and flick her clit back and forth. Her muscles against my cock begin to twitch and I know she's close.

  Suddenly, I pull out of her and step back. She turns over and stares up at me, hurt and frustrated. Maybe it makes me a sadist, but it feels good to have turned the tables on her, to have her be the one left wanting.

  "Please, Hunter," she begs me, and kneels on the side of the bed. I look down at her, and wrap my hand in the back of her hair.

  "Am I the best you've ever had?"

  "God, yes," she breathes. I slip one finger over her clit. Her entire body twitches.

  "Lie face down on the bed, with your hands over your head," I tell her. She obeys without hesitation. I stare at her for a moment, her body naked except for her bra. She looks the exactly the same as she did in college. My feelings jump back and forth. I'm still so angry at her for leaving, and part of me just wants to leave her naked here on the bed, completely sexually frustrated. But I've tried with all the women I've fucked since her to pretend that it was just as good, and now I know I've been lying to myself. There's always been something different about sex with Britt.