Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2)

by Magda Alexander

  “Yes.” My imagination runs wild as I picture Brock’s hard body, glistening with sweat, muscles bulging out. I can almost see him. I can almost smell him. God, Ellie. Get a grip.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No. Everything’s fine. Have you checked in on your daughter?”

  “Yep. Called her about an hour ago.” He sounds so proud of himself. Too bad I’m about to burst his bubble.

  “Did you know she’s been going next door to your neighbor’s house?”

  “Sure do. She asked my permission.”

  “And you let her?” Is he insane? “That boy is in high school.”

  “He’s a ninth grader, Ellie.”

  “And what were you doing in ninth grade?”

  “Not what you think I was doing. I was a late bloomer.”

  I snort. “Right. This is me you’re talking to. You were legendary even in ninth grade.” He can’t get away with lying to me. Not when I know all his past sins. Well, most of them anyway.

  “What’s this about, Ellie?”

  “I don’t want her going to your neighbor’s house.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “She can get into trouble.”

  A pregnant pause. And then he explodes. “She’s twelve, for fuck’s sake.”

  “And a month shy of thirteen.”

  A low growl followed by a deep breath. “Look, the Johnsons are good people. And Sandra is the best. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I snort. “Oh, so you’re on a first name basis with Sandra.” Figures. It probably took all of five minutes for that woman to show up at his house.

  “She lives next door, Ellie. Of course, I am. You do remember how southern hospitality works.”

  “I suppose she came by with a casserole.”

  “Sure did. Lasagna. It was damn good too. Wait a minute. Are you jealous of her?”

  Damn right I am. But he doesn’t need to know the green monster has parked itself on my shoulder and is whispering things in my ear. “Of course not.”

  “She’s in her mid-forties, Ellie.”

  “Like that would stop you.”

  “She has two kids.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And she’s married to Tom Johnson who throws a mean barbecue. As a matter of fact, Kaylee and I have been invited to one this Saturday. If you were here, I’d ask you to bring that potato salad of yours.”

  “Well, you got your wish, cowboy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m flying down. On Friday.” I’ll be damned if I ask his permission.

  “You are?” He sounds happy, but he won’t be. Once I get down there, I mean to take a piece out of him. And I’ll make sure it hurts.

  “Yep. And when I fly back I’m bringing Kaylee with me.”

  “But she just got here.” He sounds disappointed.

  But I don’t care. I have to do the right thing for Kaylee. “And look how much trouble she’s gotten into.”

  “You’re insane, woman.”

  “Wait until I get down there, buster. You haven’t seen insane.”

  Chapter 27

  Brock

  “WHAT FLIGHT IS YOUR MOM ON?” I ask Kaylee. Again. She’d mentioned it a time or two, but I’d been so preoccupied with my thoughts on the drive to the airport I’d missed what she said.

  She gazes at me like I’ve suddenly become the prize idiot at the county fair. “United 1510.”

  Inside the terminal, I scan the arrival board. “We better hustle. Looks like the plane’s pulling up to the gate.”

  Charleston International Airport is nowhere as huge as O’Hare, so it takes us no time to get to Concourse A. Unable to proceed beyond security, we stand outside the restricted area waiting for her. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. She’s not coming to reunite or patch things up. She’s only here to fetch Kaylee and take her back with her. Still, I can’t help but be happy. I haven’t seen her for three long months and that has seemed like an eternity. Fifteen minutes later, I spot her heading our way.

  “There she is!” Kaylee points out.

  “I see her,” I whisper, as my heart skips a beat.

  Kaylee barely waits for Ellie to clear the concourse before she runs up to her. “Mom.”

  “Sweetheart.” For a few seconds they hug and kiss. It’s been only a week, but to them apparently, it’s been forever. When they turn towards me, they both have tears in their eyes. But then, so do I. Nothing more beautiful than the sight of Ellie and our daughter smiling. They wear happiness well.

  I walk up to the love of my life, drop a kiss on her lips. The sweet taste of her mouth is not nearly enough, but I can’t very well do much more. Not when we’re out in public.

  After the all-too-brief greeting, she steps back. “Brock.”

  It’s my first chance to get a good look at her. She’s gained a few pounds, and they look great on her.

  “I got these for you.” I hand her the bouquet I’d been holding behind my back, the one I spent half an hour picking out. After going back and forth between roses and a mixed bouquet, I’d gone for the classic choice figuring you can’t go wrong with that. “How was your flight?”

  “Uneventful,” she clips out.

  Okayyy. Not terribly friendly, but not unfriendly either. “Did you check any bags?”

  “No. Brought only the overnight.” She points to the suitcase by her side.

  I’m reaching for it, when something clicks close to us. I’ve heard that sound enough times to know what it means. Somebody’s taking our picture.

  Looking around for the culprit, I spot him not too far from us. Can’t miss him, busy as he is snapping away.

  When he realizes he has my attention, he flashes a press card. “Rod Howard. The Charleston Times.” I’ve met the Times’ sports reporter. This guy is not him. He’s probably some flunkie charged with taking a few pictures and asking some questions. But how the hell did he know I’d be here to meet Ellie?

  I straighten up. Between my bulk and my height, I tower over him. Much as I want to pummel this slime for intruding into our privacy, I can’t make a scene. “Okay.”

  “Can I take a picture of the happy family? Ask a couple of questions?”

  Before I can say ‘Hell, no’, Kaylee jumps in with “Sure thing.” She scoots up to her mother. Hugging Kaylee to her, Ellie pins on a smile. The fake kind. I throw my arm around both and force out a grin. There, a picture-perfect happy family.

  “Great.” Rod Johnson clicks away. Done with the camera, he points a recorder at Ellie, “So, Mrs. Parker, are you visiting or coming down for good?”

  “Errr,” Ellie says. Can’t help her. I don’t have an answer for that either.

  But Kaylee does. “She’s here for the weekend.”

  “Only the weekend?” Rod Howard asks.

  Okay. That’s enough. This turd’s not from the sports desk. He’s probably part of their ‘style’ section. The one that takes pleasure in printing dirt. I’ll be damned if we get dragged through the mud. But I can’t fly off the handle, not with the growing crowd around us. As politely as I can, I say, “Mr. Howard. My wife just arrived. She hasn’t had a chance to catch her breath. If there’s anything else you’d like to know, please contact the Wolves’ PR office. They’ll arrange for me to have a sit-down with you.” Not that he’ll have a chance in hell of getting that interview. I’ll make damn sure of that.

  I grab Ellie’s hand and head toward the exit, dragging her overnight along. I don’t say a word until we’re inside the SUV. But then I explode. “What the hell was that all about? How did he know we’d be at the airport?”

  From the back seat, Kaylee pipes up, “I may have called The Charleston Times.”

  “Kaylee.” Frowning, Ellie twists to face our daughter, who’s looking pretty satisfied in the back seat.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” I bark out.

  With both parents pissed off at her, she should be sorry. But she’s not. In a sho
w of teen defiance, she crosses her arms against her chest and sticks out her chin. “Because they kept insinuating you guys are splitting up, and I’m sick of hearing it. Now they have proof you’re together. So they can stop talking about us.” Puffing out her lower lip, she stares out the window. And that’s that as far as she’s concerned.

  Unfortunately, she’s wrong. If anything, those photos will start up the rumor mill again. Damn it. Just when they were winding down too. But what’s done is done. Except. “You didn’t contact anybody else, did you?”

  “No. The Charleston Times was it.”

  “Good.” I put the car in gear and point the car toward the exit.

  Everyone remains deep in their own thoughts until I merge unto the highway.

  “How far is your house?” Ellie asks. Not our home, or even your home, but your house.

  “About twenty minutes away.”

  “Do you like it?”

  I should be grateful she has questions. But I’m not. She’s only asking to be polite.

  “It’s the home I’ve always wanted. Six bedrooms, a wraparound porch, huge kitchen.” You would love it, if you would just give us a chance.

  She swipes moisture from her upper lip. “Can you turn up the AC? It’s quite warm.”

  “Sure.” I gaze at her. “You gained some weight, I see. Looks good on you.”

  She tenses. “Thanks.”

  Fuck. Shouldn’t have said anything. Women hate any mention of their weight, even when it’s a compliment.

  Evening traffic’s a breeze so it takes us no time to get home. When we step into the kitchen from the garage, Ellie takes some time to glance around, “The house looks great.”

  “Thanks.” With all the boxes gone, you can actually see the beauty of the place. “Kaylee has been working hard on setting things up.”

  “Yeah, Mom. Dad finally let me help him unpack.”

  Ellie swivels toward Kaylee. “Dad?”

  “Yeah. Seemed stupid to keep calling him Brock. He’s my father after all.” Her words light a warm glow within me. I’m glad Kaylee came to Charleston if only because it got her to call me Dad.

  Ellie strolls up to Kaylee and hugs her. “So what have you been doing, sweetheart?” Her casual question doesn’t set off Kaylee’s radar. Little does she realize what Ellie really wants to know. Has Kaylee been fooling around?

  “Helping Dad with the unpacking, messing around with—”

  “What?” Ellie steps back and hard stares at Kaylee.

  “—computers.”

  “Is that all you were messing around with?”

  Now she’s gone and done it. Kaylee is not going to miss that. Not as bright as she is.

  For a second, Kaylee’s brows knit as if she’s trying to work out a puzzle, and then it clears up. “You’re worried about Mitch, aren’t you?”

  “Well, he is a boy, and you are growing up.”

  Kaylee throws her arms around her mom and kisses her cheek. “Mom, that’s so sweet of you. But you got nothing to worry about. Mitch’s not boyfriend material. He’s more interested in computers than girls.”

  Thank God for that.

  “Besides, I never go over there unless Mrs. Johnson’s home. And, Mom, she bakes the best cookies. The two of you would get along like peas in a pod.”

  Ellie’s shoulders droop. “That’s . . . great.” Seemingly, Kaylee’s words took the wind out of her sails.

  I told her she had nothing to worry about, but did she believe me? No.

  “Have you done any sightseeing?”

  What is Ellie up to now? She knows I hadn’t taken Kaylee out on the town. “No. Dad was going to take me tomorrow. But then we got invited to the Johnsons’ barbecue. Maybe next weekend we’ll do that. Right, Dad?”

  “If that’s what you want.” I exchange glances with Ellie. If she has her way, Kaylee will be back in Chicago by then. I’d love to keep my daughter for at least another week, but Ellie has a bug up her ass about my neighbors. I’m just hoping once she meets them, she’ll be okay with them, and Kaylee will be allowed to stay. But I refuse to worry about that right now. “Do you need to freshen up? I thought I’d take you and Kaylee to one of the best restaurants in Charleston for dinner. Nothing fancy. Just great seafood.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Or we can eat in. I hear you have quite a number of casseroles in your fridge.”

  My gaze cuts to Kaylee.

  “Sorry. I blabbed.” She doesn’t look the least bit sorry. Just the opposite. She’s smiling.

  Did she tell her mom about the welcome wagons to get her mother down here? Is that why she mentioned the boy next door? Maybe. I’m beginning to think my daughter has quite a devious mind.

  Kaylee’s phone rings. Glancing at it, she smiles. “It’s Mitch. I’m helping him write an app.” Talking a mile a minute, she disappears into her room, leaving Ellie and me alone.

  “I’d rather take both my girls out to eat.”

  She snaps out. “I’m not your girl.”

  “You’re right. You’re my wife.” I refuse to let things go ugly.

  She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and lets her defenses down. “I’m exhausted, Brock. It’s been a long day. I’d just as soon eat here.”

  Knowing her, she probably worked most of the day before heading off to the airport. “Okay. I guess we can order in.” No way am I feeding her one of those casseroles, though. “Want to bathe before dinner? I can join you.” As soon as those words leave my lips, I regret them.

  Especially when she steps away, putting the kitchen island between us. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. We’re supposed to be separating.”

  “That was your decision. Not mine.”

  Anger flashes in her eyes. “You walked out on me. Remember?”

  How could I ever forget? Biggest mistake of my life.

  “So don’t you dare blame this separation on me.”

  “I called to apologize. You never picked up.” I’d left message after message on her voice mail, telling her I was sorry, to please call me back. She never did.

  “We’re over and done with, Brock.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t live with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

  “I apologized. I’m apologizing now.”

  “It’s too late.”

  No, it’s not. And I’m going to prove it to her.

  “We can’t sleep on different beds. It will upset Kaylee too much. But everything else stays separate.”

  “Fine.” I retrieve my cell. “What do you want for dinner? Pizza, Chinese. Or something else?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Order whatever you like.”

  I one-button dial the Italian place. “Pizza it is.”

  We eat the food in silence while Kaylee gazes at us out of worried eyes. Once the meal’s over, Ellie heads to the bedroom. Kaylee goes back to her cave. Seems like old times. Except it isn’t. Turning on the TV, I watch some show with unseeing eyes.

  An hour later, I walk into the bedroom to find her sound asleep, wearing a granny gown that covers her down to her feet. Doesn’t matter how much skin she’s hiding from me, I still get hard.

  After changing into pajama bottoms, I slide into bed and pull her into me. An intoxicating fragrance of cinnamon and paradise greets me. God. I want to ravish her, sink into her, pleasure her until she screams my name. But I can’t do any of those things. I can only hold her, breathe in her scent and torture myself.

  In the morning, I wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon and the sound of Ellie and Kaylee’s happy chatter. From their convo, they’re setting the table, pouring orange juice. A sense of peace rolls over me while I wish it could always be this way. When I walk into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air.

  “Want a cup?” Ellie holds up the carafe. Seemingly, she’s declared a peace truce, probably for Kaylee’s sake.

  “Sure.” I park my ass on a kitchen stool and enjoy the best breakfast I’ve
had in a long time.

  Once the dishes are cleared away, Ellie grabs her purse. “I have to go to the grocery store.”

  “What for?”

  “To get the fixings for the potato salad.” And then she gets this light in her eyes. “Unless I can ask one of your drop-bys to make one for me.”

  Happy to see her sassy side again, I grin. “I would if I had a way to reach them.”

  “Oh, come on! What self-respecting woman forgets to leave her phone number with a casserole?”

  “They did. But I tossed them away.”

  She arches a brow. “Too bad. They could have fed you until the start of the season.”

  “Very funny.” I sling my arm around her shoulders and drop a kiss on her lips. She tenses, but doesn’t push me away.

  Baby steps.

  Chapter 28

  Eleanor

  WE ARRIVE AT THE BARBECUE AS A FAMILY with me tucked in between Kaylee and Brock as if I needed protection from the crowd gathered in our neighbor’s yard.

  But they have nothing to worry about. As soon as we step inside the fenced gate, a forty-something woman, flashing a broad smile walks up to greet us. “Hi. I’m Sandra. You must be Ellie.”

  “Guilty as charged. I brought potato salad.” Nothing like stating the obvious. A blind man could see what I’m carrying.

  “Well, aren’t you sweet?” Sandra takes it from me and lays it on a table chock full of side dishes—baked beans, corn fritters, hush puppies. And four bowls of potato salad.

  Oh, geez. “I should have asked what I should bring,” I say, chagrined.

  “Nonsense. You can never have too many potato salads with this bunch. They practically inhale it.”

  She’s being kind. I can tell. Well, too late to do anything about it.

  Sandra wipes her palms on her apron. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Before I can say ‘me too’, a tall man wearing a ‘King of the Grill’ apron pops up next to her and wraps an arm around Sandra’s shoulders. “Hi, I’m Joe. Excuse me for not shaking your hand.”

  No wonder. He’s holding a barbecue spatula that’s been put to good use.