Hail Mary: A Second Chances Sports Romance (Gridiron Love Book 1)

by Vanessa Fox

  Contents

  Hail Mary

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  HAIL MARY

  A Second Chances Sports Romance

  Gridiron Love #1

  by

  VANESSA FOX

  Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Fox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Willow

  It's my first day at Riverside High School and there's some jerk sitting in the back of the class throwing paper balls at my head.

  As my American History teacher Mr. Abbot rambles on about the civil war, another ball whizzes past my head. I hear snickering. I turn around and crane my neck, scanning the room, but everyone has their heads down as if nothing has happened. I turn my attention back to the front of the room, and another crumpled ball of notebook paper catches in the strands of my shoulder-length brown hair.

  I whip back with a frown, and the guy three seats behind me to my right has a reaction time just a split second too slow. I catch a glimpse of vibrant green eyes and a cocky smirk before he looks down at his book seriously, feigning innocence.

  "Hey!" I object, though I really don't know what to say. I don't want to disrupt Mr. Abbot, who is in the middle of what I'm sure is a very riveting lecture about Abraham Lincoln.

  I huff out an annoyed breath as I try to focus on my teacher. I hear a snort followed by hushed whispers. Two seconds later, another paper ball bounces off my head.

  "Knock it off!" I growl, whipping around. This time the guy doesn't bother hiding. He boldly leans back in his chair and chuckles. Another guy sitting to his right fist-bumps him and laughs obnoxiously. I groan internally. Both these guys are wearing varsity football jackets. They're big and buff, the perfect stereotype of the caveman football jock who probably hasn't read a book in his entire life.

  "Boys, settle down please," Mr. Abbot says, completely deadpan. It seems he's used to their shenanigans, and even a little defeated by them, like a parent who's given up on trying to discipline his bratty kids.

  "Sorry Mr. A," the green-eyed one flippantly responds. I conjure up my best bitch face and glare at him, but he only laughs, flashing a set of perfect pearly whites. He is the epitome of the hunky football quarterback, the one all the cheerleaders fawn over. Shaggy dirty blond hair, seductive eyes, a smooth olive complexion and a jaw that looks like it was cut from marble by Greek artisans.

  I guess, in a purely aesthetic sense, he's nice to look at. But he's not my type at all. Hell no. I prefer a distinguished man. I like dark and handsome, bookish, quiet. Someone who will talk about ancient philosophy and Oliver Wilde with me. Someone with dreams of becoming an engineer, or a doctor without borders, or even a scholar of old English literature. I'm really not interested in some guy who's made throwing a pigskin around a muddy field the center focus of his life, and who's probably been hit in the head so many times he can't string together a single coherent thought.

  Not that it matters. Jocks belong with busty, blond, equally dumb cheerleaders. I doubt any of them want anything to do with me. Meek, quiet Willow with the straight brown hair, glasses, flat chest, and conservative wardrobe. Me, Willow, who couldn't tell you the difference between a touchdown and a home run.

  I am not the girl the jocks flirt with. I'm the girl the jocks bully.

  The green-eyed jock's eyes don't waver from mine for a second. He meets my glare with an incredibly cocky, arrogant grin, one that makes my hands ball up into fists. Then he has the audacity to wink at me. I purse my lips and turn back around, fuming.

  I am determined to ignore him, and anyone else who wants to mess with me. But to my utter annoyance, even as I focus on the text in front of me, I can't get those vibrant green eyes out of my mind.

  Kade

  Willow Greene. There's just something about her.

  I don't know what it is. She's not my type at all. At first glance, she's a plain Jane. Stark, straight brown hair clipped back in an austere sort of way. No makeup. A frown permanently imprinted on her face. And looking like she jacked her wardrobe straight from my grandmother's closet.

  But as soon as she stepped into the classroom this morning, my heart started pounding the way it does when I'm third down in the redzone with ten seconds on the clock in the 4th quarter. Mr. Abbot introduced her and she looked so meek and shy. She apparently just moved here from Charleston.

  I've been itching to get her attention all day long. I did it this morning with the help of some crumpled paper balls and my buddy Marcus, my running back, who keeps calling her "librarian" with a sneer. It worked. She gave me such a fierce glare, it sent chills down my spine. Between narrow slits I caught a glimpse of deep, dark blue eyes the color of the ocean. And my heart started pounding even harder.

  It's third period now, and I'm delighted to see that we share this class together as well: Chemistry with Mrs. Clark. When Mrs. Clark tells us to pair off, I wrap my arm around Willow's shoulder and squeeze tight, giving her the cockiest grin I can muster. She groans and rolls her eyes.

  "I don't want to be partnered up with you," she complains.

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're a bully." She shrugs herself away from my arm.

  "A bully? I'm not a bully. I just like you," I say with a wink.

  Her cheeks flare red. She rolls her eyes and turns away. She gives a furtive glance around the classroom and realizes with disappointment that everyone else has already paired off.

  "Looks like it's just you and me, sweetheart," I chuckle.

  She swings around and scowls at me. "I am not your sweetheart."

  "Aw, don't fight it. Any other girl in this school would kill to be my sweetheart."

  Willow scoffs. "Yeah, right."

  A thought occurs to me. "You don't know who I am, do you?" I put out my hand. "Kade Hughes. Riverside High School's two time championship-winning quarterback."

  "Of course you are," she says with an annoyed sigh as she shakes my hand. The feel of her small, delicate palm against mine ignites a heat inside me. I swear I can feel sparks flying through my body, and I can tell she feels it too, by the nervous look in her eyes and the beet red color of her cheeks.

  "I'm Willow Greene," she says meekly.

  "I know. I was paying attention when Mr. Abbot introduced you to the class. In fact, I couldn't focus on anything else."

  I gaze at her steadily, trying to pierce into those deep blue, oceanic eyes. She blinks rapidly and looks away. Aw. Shy girls often come across as awkward and weird, but not her. Her shyness is so endearing. And there's something hot about it. Marcus is right, she does remind me of a librarian… a sexy librarian.

  "
Okay, lovebirds, focus up," Mrs. Clark orders us from the front of the lab. Willow turns an even deeper shade of red as she lowers her head. I just chuckle, my head held high. I can't help but notice envious glances from the other girls in class. They hate seeing me flirt with the new girl. Shit, this isn't helping to quell my ego any.

  But right now I don't give a shit what other girls think. Yeah, you can bet your ass I'm the most desired guy in this whole school. But right now, for whatever reason, I'm inexplicably drawn to only one girl… and I will have her. Bet on it.

  Willow

  It's a warm, humid Friday night in Georgia and I'm on the front porch of my new house, lounging on the wicker couch with my novel in hand. I don't know exactly what time it is, but I know it must be late. I'm only a few pages away from finishing my book, and the excitement of the climax has me riveted. This will be the second book I've completed this week alone, and after I'm done I've got another one to take its place. I don't plan on taking a break in between.

  I've always had my nose in books, ever since I learned how to read. I love being transported to exotic new lands and getting wrapped up in the lives of fictional characters. Books are exciting, riveting, fascinating, thought-provoking. I vastly prefer them to the drab reality of my every day life.

  But just as the author begins to draw the story to a close, my focus is rudely interrupted by the sound of a revving engine and squealing tires. I glance up to see an old fashioned 1970's beater ungracefully screech into the driveway of the house across from mine. The rock music playing inside is turned up so loud the glass of lemonade next to me rattles from the thump of the bass. Seconds later, a group of teenage boys start to pile out, shouting and laughing loudly, with no care at all to the noise disturbance they're making. There's five or six of them, and I'm perplexed as to how they all managed to fit inside. The engine turns off and the driver gets out: a tall, well-built guy with shaggy, dirty blond hair. To my disgust, he reaches back inside the car, pulls out a big bottle of liquor and proceeds to chug it right there in the driveway.

  He finishes with a burp as his friends laugh, before he passes it around.

  Then he turns and I see a flash of brilliant green.

  My stomach drops.

  It's Kade Hughes.

  I instinctively groan and roll my eyes. Of course he's the type of guy to be out late at night, driving like a madman and getting drunk with his obnoxious buddies.

  To my horror, he makes eye contact. The whites of his perfect teeth glimmer under the street lights as he grins in that oh-so-cocky way that irritates me so much. He waves and I immediately look back down at my book, pretending I didn't see him.

  The words on the page don't even register in my mind, but out of my peripheral I can see him and his gross jock friends heading my way.

  My heart pounds in my chest. I set the book aside and stand up, frowning and crossing my arms. "Don't you dare come over here!" I warn.

  "Aw, I just wanna say hi!" Kade grins. His buddies are hooting and hollering like a bunch of cavemen, and I know my dad will be out here any second wondering what all the fuss is about.

  Kade marches right up the steps, puts his arm around my shoulder, and pushes us both down onto the wicker couch.

  "Don't touch me!" I bark, trying to push his arm away.

  "Why are you so mean to me?" Kade slurs. I wrinkle my nose, disgusted by the smell of hard liquor on his breath.

  Still, his proximity, the fact the side of his body is pressed so close to mine, makes my heart race and I just know my cheeks have turned beet red.

  "I think she likes you, bro," one of his buddies jokes.

  "Oh, I know she likes me," Kade replies with a smirk.

  "Get the fuck off my porch, bro," I spit.

  "Woah woah woah, calm down, sweetheart," Kade chuckles as he holds up the liquor bottle. "Hey, you want a drink?"

  I roll my eyes, trying my hardest to appear cold and flippant, even as my pulse is skyrocketing from being so close to Kade. "I don't drink. And you shouldn't, either."

  "Of course I'm gonna drink!" Kade replies. "We won the game tonight, baby! In a blow-out!"

  "Gooooooo Thunderbolts!" another one of his friends hollers. The whole group of them starts to pound their chest and grunt like a bunch of animals.

  I don't even know what a blow-out is, and I don't care. Football is the least interest topic I can possibly imagine, and if winning in a blow-out turns these guys into drunken, obnoxious cavemen, then I don't care for it.

  "Wow, congratulations," I say with dead-pan sarcasm.

  "And you know what the best part is?" Kade's face beams with pride. "There were college scouts at this game, and they saw with their own eyes just how good I am. That means I've got a full-ride football scholarship headed my way!"

  "Bullshit dude, those scouts weren't there just for you!" One of his friends complains. "Who was it who made that interception right on the goal line, huh? Think they didn't notice that?"

  "Sure they did, Brian, but they also noticed how you didn't do jack shit the rest of the game," Kade answers with a scoff. "Half the time you weren't even covering your receiver. I don't know what the hell you were doing out there."

  "Hey fuck you, bro, they didn't score once, did they? That was all us, bro, your defense," Brian shoots back.

  "Yeah well, it wasn't defense who scored 24 points, was it?"

  His friend balls his hands into fists and steps close to Kade, who stands up. They stand nose to nose, glaring at each other.

  "You want a fucking piece of me, dipshit?!" His friend taunts.

  I stand up quickly and step in between them. "Come on guys, knock it off, you're just drunk. You won the game. There's no need to fight."

  Brian steps away, and I feel Kade's arm slip around my waist.

  "She's right," Kade says, and he kisses my cheek.

  My face burns red and I'm trying my damndest to ignore the heat building between my legs.

  "Maybe she should be our coach!" one of the guys says with a laugh.

  "Mmm, she can coach me any time," Kade turns his face close to mine and winks.

  Part of me wants to slap him and push him away, but another part wants to stay right here, lingering in his embrace and gazing into those captivating green eyes.

  "I'd kill myself if I had to coach you guys," I say flippantly.

  Kade winces playfully. "Ouch, baby. You're so mean."

  "I don't know anything about football and I really don't care about it."

  "Well, darlin', that's only cause you haven't seen me play yet. As soon as you see me out in that field, my muscles flexing, my senses sharp, my reaction time impeccable… you'll fall in love. All the other girls do."

  The boys snort and one of them gives Kade a high-five.

  "Yeah, uh-huh," I roll my eyes. "Hey, don't you think those scouts might think twice about you when they find out you're an underaged drunk driver?"

  Kade's grin fades and for a moment I sense that I must've really pissed him off. Which, I guess, was my intention. But then he puts his hand on his chest and stumbles back a little, acting like he's been injured. "Oww. Gosh, darlin', you're a spitfire, aren't you?"

  That's when the screen door opens and my dad steps out, looking perplexed. The noise quiets to dead silence as he glances warily at all these rowdy guys lingering on his front porch. He sees Kade's arm around me and his eyes widen. I quickly push Kade off of me, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

  "Excuse me? What are you all doing on my property?" my dad asks.

  Kade steps forward boldly and puts out his hand. "Kade Hughes. I'm sorry, sir, for making a ruckus. I just wanted to come say hi to your daughter."

  Like a light switch, Kade has turned into the epitome of the Southern gentleman, humble and polite.

  My dad gives me a questioning glance. I don't know what to do so I just shrug. He shakes Kade's hand warily.

  "Well, Mr. Hughes, I'd appreciate it if you and your buddies could get the hell out of h
ere," he says. "It's almost midnight."

  "Yes, sir," Kade nods. He gestures to his buddies and they all start to wander off, their heads lowered. He glances back at me with a smile. "This is my dad's house, by the way."

  He's referring to the house across the street. "I spend every weekend here. Feel free to stop by whenever you like."

  If it weren't for my dad, I know Kade would've winked, or even given me a parting kiss on the cheek. But instead he just gives another respectful nod to my dad before turning and walking away.

  As much as Kade annoys me, I regret the fact that I don't get to experience that last little gesture of affection.

  When they're all back across the street, my dad glares at me with his arms crossed, as if I'm the one at fault.

  "I didn't ask them to come over here!" I protest, reading his expression.

  He eyes me suspiciously, and I can tell he sees it. He sees the blush in my cheeks, the quiver in my voice. He can see that Kade makes me weak in the knees, and he doesn't like it one bit.

  Chapter 2

  Kade

  It's practically the ass of dawn on a chilly Monday morning and I'm trying to keep my eyes open enough to drive myself to school. After a busy weekend of partying and football practice, I feel like a zombie. I can't stand having to get up so early, especially since my first class is only a stupid elective. I don't even need it to graduate. If I didn't have college on my mind, I'd be skipping that shit every day.

  But I guess there's another reason why I don't skip it. She's in this class.

  For some reason, every time I set my eyes on that prim and proper librarian, my heart swells and my pulse quickens. I feel the same kind of euphoria I get after throwing a perfect touchdown pass, or after downing a few shots of my dad's fireball whiskey.

  It's addictive. When I don't have it, I'm thinking about it.

  When I haven't seen her, my mind is swirling with images of her gorgeous face, her deep blue eyes, the little dimple that forms in her cheek when she smiles. The softness and sweetness of her voice, even when she's trying to sound firm and intimidating. It's endearing, like a cute little kitten trying to growl fiercely like a lion.