by Amy Brent
THE QUARTERBACK’S SECRET BABY
Chapter 1
Amanda nearly dropped a tray of dirty dishes when an old man pinched her ass as she walked by. She ground her teeth and shot him a glare, but she kept her mouth shut. She'd complained to the boss on more than one occasion about the behavior of the customers, but Spiro didn't care about anything but the restaurant's sales at the end of the day. If a customer kept coming back week after week and spending money, then he wanted that customer treated like gold.
Not that the assholes who treated her like a piece of meat ever tipped well. She'd be lucky if he left her a dollar on the table after he left. But Spiro only cared about the amount of money he made, not what his staff made.
She dropped the dirty dishes off in the back, then printed out the check for one of her other tables. She took the long way around to drop off the check, so she could avoid walking by the perv's table again. She also noticed the perv's drink needed to be refilled, but as far as she was concerned, he could wait. Maybe if she gave him bad service, he'd stop coming back. Spiro would complain about losing a customer, but Amanda had better things to do with her time than be manhandled by someone who didn't even tip.
She dropped off the check at the other table. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, keeping her fake smile on her face.
“You can give me your phone number,” the man said, winking at her.
Amanda rolled her eyes. Max was one of her regulars, and while he never got handsy with her the way some of her other customers did, he was relentlessly hitting on her. But he was at least friendly about it, and he never took it the wrong way when she shot him down, so she tried to at least have some fun with it. “My phone's probably getting shut off next week, Max,” she said, giving him a playful smirk. “Tell you what, wait until I win the lottery, then we'll see.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You either make too many calls, or you're not being paid enough here.”
“Little of both,” Amanda said. “Mostly the latter.”
She flashed him a genuine smile as she took his empty plate. Max, at least, was a decent tipper.
She took a quick glance at her other tables. Aside from the perv needing a drink refill, it looked like everyone was doing fine. She'd have just enough time to slip out for a quick smoke.
She kept an eye out for Spiro as she cut back through the dish room and out the back door. The boss didn't much care for his employees smoking on the clock. But Spiro only paid her $2.13 per hour, which was the minimum wage when you earned the rest of your pay from tips, so she didn't really care what he thought. She ducked behind the dumpster, trying to ignore the smell as she pulled out her Parliament Menthols and lit one up. She never smoked at home, because she didn't want to expose her son to secondhand smoke, which meant she had to get her fill while she was at work.
While she was smoking, and dreading the next three hours of her shift, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw it was a text from her friend Michelle. She almost ignored it. Michelle had been a real party girl ever since high school, and had only gotten worse when she moved away for college. Whenever she stopped back in town during a school break, she wanted to go out drinking and cruising for guys. Amanda didn't have the time, between working two jobs and taking care of her son, for that kind of life. As much as she felt like a jerk for ignoring Michelle's texts half the time, she knew she just couldn't deal with being dragged out for a weekend of partying.
She read the text, already composing a response in her head. She needed to make a good excuse in order to get out of going drinking without hurting Michelle's feelings in the process. Though when she read the text, she nearly dropped her phone.
Hey, Mandy! You need to clear your plans for the weekend. I'm coming home, and guess what? I'M GETTING MARRIED!
Amanda was still staring at the text, trying to process it, when her phone buzzed again with another incoming text.
You'll be there, right? Promise you will! I need my bestie there as my maid of honor!
Amanda held her cigarette between her lips and typed out a response. She didn't see how she could get out of going to her friend's wedding, especially if Michelle wanted her to be maid of honor. Her head was spinning as she typed out her response: Holy crap! Since when are you getting married? Why such short notice? Of course I'll be there.
Just before Amanda headed back in to check on her tables, she got another response from Michelle: Long story, I'll explain when I see you. But Blake only has this weekend available, so it has to be now. OMG! I'm so excited! See you soon!
Amanda tucked away her phone and went back to check on her tables. The man who'd pinched her started complaining about how he'd been waiting ten minutes to have his drink refilled. She muttered a completely insincere apology and went to fetch him a new Coke. Then she finished clearing off Max's table, and stopped, stunned, when she saw the tip that he'd left.
It was a $50 bill. She knew Max had decent money—at least, compared to the usual crowd that came into the diner—but he was never this generous. She immediately felt a surge of guilt about her lie about her phone being shut off. Her bills were tight, but not so tight that she couldn't keep up with them, albeit barely. Max must have taken her excuse to get out of giving him her phone number as a genuine plea.
She pocketed the money, trying not to feel guilty about it. Though she immediately felt better when the perv at the next table only left her seventy-eight cents. She'd earned Max's big tip, if only because she had to put up with so much shit from the rest of her customers.
When her shift was finally over, she took the bus home, then stopped by her neighbor's apartment to pick up her son, James. Mrs. Carter was a stay at home mom, and she watched James for free, in exchange for Amanda watching her son a few times a week so Mrs. Carter could run errands or have a night out with her husband.
“Come on, kiddo,” she said, taking James's hand. “Time for dinner.”
“But I don't wanna go,” James said, stomping his foot.
Mrs. Carter shot Amanda an apologetic smile. “He's been in a mood today.”
“I have not!” James protested, stomping his foot again.
“I'm sorry, kiddo,” Amanda said, scooping James up and holding him against her hip. “You can come back and play tomorrow.”
James made a frustrated sound as she carried him down the hall to their apartment. She set him down on the couch and did her best to clean the place up a bit before dinner. The apartment was eternally a mess, and she had long since given up on ever getting it truly clean. She just tried to maintain a certain level of disarray.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked as she looked through the cabinets.
“Pizza.”
“We don't have pizza,” she said. She considered using Max's $50 to order out, and save herself the hassle of cooking, but she really needed to put it towards paying off her credit card. “How about pasta? That's Italian, too.”
James grumbled, but since he wasn't old enough to cook for himself, Amanda figured he could deal with her making whatever she wanted. She set the water to boil, then went into the living room to sit on the couch next to her son.
He'd turned the TV on, and the Monday night football game was playing. She frowned at the TV. “Hey, isn't there cartoons on?”
“No,” James said, pouting. “I wanna watch them play!”
Amanda sighed and leaned back against the couch. James loved playing and running outdoors, though she rarely got the chance to take him out anymore. She didn't want to deny him the chance to watch the game, even if watching it brought back painful memories for her.
James clutched his Nerf football to his chest as he watched the players running across the field. Amanda watched just one player in particular, the quarterback, Cole Reed. Michelle's brother.
She sighed and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands. She usually didn't want to admit it, but Cole was another reason why she'd been avoiding Mic
helle so much over the years. When they'd been in high school, Cole had been in college, and already making a name for himself playing for his college football team. Amanda had crushed on him pretty hard, mooning over him whenever he came back to town during school breaks. She'd been pretty sure he'd barely known that she existed, and she was even more sure now that he'd completely forgotten her entire existence. After all, they had just had one night together. The night she gave him her virginity.
She glanced at James, the memories rushing back once more. She'd been a bit drunk, thanks to Cole and his college friends buying alcohol for Amanda and Michelle's high school graduation party. There had been dozens of kids there, including half of Cole's college football team who'd driven down for the party, and for the chance to score with some eager and willing high school girls. Amanda still didn't know if Cole had put the moves on her because she had been wearing a tight, low-cut dress that night, or because he'd been drunk enough to forget that she was his sister's best friend. And she hadn't cared what his reasons were. When he asked her to go upstairs, she'd been more than willing.
The rest of the night after that was a blur. She remembered that it had felt amazing, after the initial pain, of course. She remembered Cole's stamina, how he'd wanted to go at it again and again. She remembered getting down on her knees for him, when she was too sore to let him inside her again, and how rough and controlling he'd been with his hand on the back of her head, forcing her to swallow.
Most of all, she remembered that he'd been gone in the morning. She'd woken up, naked, sticky, and hung over, in his bed. After she'd gotten dressed and headed downstairs, Michelle had told her that Cole and his friends had driven back to their school. He hadn't even said goodbye.
And Amanda hadn't seen him since. Well, except for when she saw him on TV. And when she looked at James – yes, she saw that resemblance! She'd never told Cole that he was the father, and had never told Michelle that she was an aunt. After how humiliated she'd been that he'd used her as a one-night stand, she had never been able to bring herself to admit the truth. Not to anyone.
She could only hope that Cole wouldn't be at Michelle's wedding this weekend. It was hard for her to imagine him skipping his sister's wedding. But he hadn't been back home in years. After he'd been first draft pick right out of college, he'd been too absorbed in his success and fame to care about the town that he'd left behind. And she was certain that even if he did see her, he wouldn't even remember her name.
Chapter 2
Cole woke up to discover a naked woman draped across his body, drooling on his shoulder. He looked down at her, thinking that she definitely didn't look as hot now as she'd seemed last night. Maybe it was because he'd had a few beers after the game. Or maybe he'd been so high on the team's victory that he hadn't cared who he went to bed with.
He pulled himself away from the woman and got out of the hotel room bed. He searched for his pants, and by the time he found them, the woman was waking up. She sat up in the bed, the blanket falling away from her naked body. Now that he got a better look at her from the neck down, he saw the appeal. Though he wondered what it said about him that he couldn't quite look her in the eye.
“Hey,” she said, giving him a tired smile. “That was some night last night.”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally. “I guess.”
Last night hadn't been anything special to him. Sure, he was always glad for the chance to score with one of the women that were always fawning all over him after a game. It was one of the perks of being the quarterback. But this woman hadn't left any more of an impression on him than any of the others had. Heck, he couldn't even remember her name.
She got out of bed while he was pulling on his pants. She sauntered over to him and draped her arms around his shoulders. “Why in such a rush?” she asked. “I thought we could have another go before breakfast.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said, pulling away. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. “I've got a flight to catch.”
She frowned at him. “What, off to another game?”
He snorted. “I wish. I have to head back home.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I see.”
He rolled his eyes. “It's not like that. My sister's getting married, and for some reason, she decided to do it back home in New Jersey. So I've got to catch a plane back to East Bumblefuck.”
“Whatever,” she said, waving her hands dismissively. “I should have known you were just another horny jock.”
She pulled on her dress and headed to the door with her shoes in one hand and her panties in the other. She glanced at him from the door as she was shoving her panties into her purse. “See you around,” she said. “I guess.”
Cole let out a long sigh, shaking his head. He could have been offended, but the girl had the right to be pissy with him. He hadn't taken the time to learn her name, or even buy her breakfast. He felt like a complete tool.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes and thinking about where he was in his life. Sure, he had a great sports career, and with it plenty of fame and plenty of money. And for the first couple of years, banging a different chick every night had been a great time. But after a while it was starting to get a bit stale. The sex was still physically good, but it was leaving him wanting something more.
He tried to think back over all the women he'd been with in the last few years. He found he couldn't remember any of their names. Not a single one.
He wracked his brain, trying to come up with a single name. The only one he could remember was...Amanda.
He leaned back on his elbows, staring at the ceiling. Amanda. That was a name he hadn't thought about in a long time. His sister's best friend. He was pretty sure she'd had a crush on him for years before they finally shared that one night together. He'd had a bit of a thing for her himself. But over the years, whenever Michelle had caught him staring at her friend, she'd made a point to tell him there was no way it would happen. She'd lectured him on more than one occasion, telling him she knew the reputation he'd developed, even back in college, and how she was not going to let her best friend become just another one of his conquests. He'd protested more than once that it wouldn't be like that...but then, he had probably been fooling himself.
He still felt like a chump for leaving her that night. He'd gotten up early, while Amanda was still in his bed, and headed downstairs for some breakfast. Michelle had confronted him in the kitchen, accusing him of taking advantage of Amanda and using her while she was drunk and vulnerable. He'd been so drunk the night before that he couldn't remember who had initiated things, him or Amanda. But the way Michelle painted the picture, he'd practically been a predator, seducing the young, shy, virgin girl and luring her into his bed.
After Michelle had finished berating him, he'd been so ashamed that he'd left without going back upstairs to even say goodbye. He'd felt bad about that for years. There had been more than one time, early on, that he'd asked Michelle about her, trying to keep up with how Amanda was doing, whether she was seeing anyone. But Michelle had refused to even give him Amanda's phone number, and she'd eventually told him to stop asking about her.
He stared at the ceiling, wondering about how Amanda was doing. She'd been a sweet girl. Sure, it had only been one night. But even before that, whenever she was over at the house, studying with Michelle, he'd enjoyed her company. He remembered her being funny, and smart, and full of energy.
If he was going to be back in town anyway, he wondered if maybe he could look her up. But...no, he knew he couldn't. Michelle would probably still be bad at him for seducing her friend and then leaving her after a one-night stand. And besides, Amanda had probably moved on. She'd been a beautiful and amazing girl. She must have found someone else by now.
He got up and finished throwing the rest of his clothes into a bag, then headed downstairs to check out and head to the airport. Maybe he'd ask Michelle about her friend when he got into town. It couldn't hurt to ask.
; Chapter 3
Amanda looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She was wearing a skimpy black dress she'd first bought more than two years ago for a date. The date, as she recalled, had ended badly, with the guy feeling her up in the front seat of his car while they were parked outside Amanda's apartment, then getting mad when she wouldn't invite him upstairs. She hadn't wanted to sleep with anyone on the first date—her experience with Cole had made her wary of one night stands—and she definitely wasn't going to bring anyone upstairs while her son was in the apartment with the babysitter.
The dress was probably a little too flirty to wear to meet her friend's fiance, but it was the newest and nicest thing she owned. It had been years since she'd been able to afford new clothes, other than a few cheap pairs of jeans and t-shirts from Walmart. It was either this dress, or something that was old, frayed, and possibly stained. James had once had the bad habit of vomiting all over her clothes when he was an infant, and her wardrobe had never recovered.
The doorbell rang. She hurried into the living room and scooped James up in her arms. “Come on, sweetie, you get to spend the night at Mrs. Carter's and play with Billy.
She dropped her son off at the neighbor's, then headed downstairs. Michelle was waiting at the door, wearing an expensive-looking dress. It was hard to tell at a glance, but Amanda was guessing it was a designer label.
“Hey, you!” Michelle squealed and took Amanda's hands, shaking them excitedly. “Oh my God, I've missed you so much!”
“Hey,” Amanda said, trying to put as much enthusiasm into her voice as Michelle had in hers. “It's good to see you.”
“I can't wait for you to meet Blake,” Michelle said. She led Amanda to the car. It was a luxury rental, and Amanda tried not to think about how much it must have cost. It was starting to look like Michelle was marrying money. Amanda was a little jealous.
Amanda got into the backseat. Blake half turned in his seat to flash a smile at her. He was a gorgeous man, dressed in an expensive silk shirt and a black blazer. Even his designer sunglasses looked like they cost more than Amanda made in a week.