FALSE START (Gods of the Gridiron Book 2)

by Shanna Swenson

  Brett had gone to talk to Hunt this morning, intending to thank him and apologize. But when he got there, he simply sat and cried, telling him how much he loved Madison, how excited he was about their marriage and their baby, and how much he missed his best friend. Brett always felt better when he stopped to talk to the gray granite stone. The verse written there held him for a moment. “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. John 10:10”

  He’d never really noticed it, or had he and just not really took the words in? Today, he did though. He knew Madi had chosen the biblical quote. Hunter Thomas had lived abundantly if he’d done nothing else.

  “I love you, brother,” Brett had told him. “I love our girl and dammit, man, she’s even more gorgeous being so happy. I’ve never seen her smile so much. I hope you’re looking down on us today and seeing that I made good on my promises.”

  Now, Madi, along with her father who was escorting her, stopped before him. His eyes beheld the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in all his life: his bride about to pledge herself—her love—to him.

  When Jerry handed Madi over, he clapped Brett’s shoulder and smiled. He moved to sit next to Amelia, who wiped her tears on a handkerchief, Brooke was next to her. Brett’s mom and dad were on the opposite side with his brothers. Also in attendance were their closest friends: Linc and Val, Trav and Sky, TJ, Quil and Quinn, Pax, Coach Cavanaugh, their GM, and even Coach Haskins made it out. Brett hadn’t expected to see Frank and Rita Thomas, but they too came to wish their daughter-in-law well.

  Brett and Madi had decided to keep the wedding small. They planned to let the media in on it soon enough but didn’t want helicopters flying over the farm during their ceremony or the sneaky assholes trespassing to get clandestine shots of their nuptials.

  It was just them and the people they cared for most in the world.

  As Reverend Young spoke of love, commitment, and reverence, Brett watched his bride with calm devotion and desire. And when the vows came, he spoke from his heart and pledged to love, honor, and cherish her until his last day. It was emotional, it was beautiful—it had hard-ass Zeus crying like a baby.

  When Reverend Young pronounced them as man and wife, Brett embraced Madison; as they shared their first kiss as man and wife, he’d never been happier. It was as if time stood still, as if every prayer he’d ever had had come true, as if his life had been fully and completely fulfilled. And it would be even fuller come April when she gave birth to their child.

  They reveled in the applause and cheers that greeted them as they moved down the runner, arm-in-arm.

  They had several moments to themselves as their photographer swooped in and began posing them in various positions: some loving, some sexy, some sweet, some funny.

  Brett’s face began to hurt from smiling so much, but he didn’t mind. He was truly overjoyed on this incredible day God had blessed them with.

  He pulled his bride into his arms when they danced their first dance, sharing his thoughts. She grinned back up at him, the same joy he felt reflecting in her deep, sea-green eyes.

  “Have we gotten any closer to a name for this baby boy?” she asked.

  Brett grinned big. They’d literally just found out the sex of their baby yesterday and Brett had been over the moon. He couldn’t wait to have a healthy, bouncing baby boy. And Hunt had told him that’s what Madi had wanted, too. It was as if their dreams had become realities overnight.

  “Well, my sexy queen, it would only be fitting to name him Hercules, as you well know,” Brett stated with fake conviction, getting a giggle from his bride. “But seriously… I really like the name Xavier. Xavier Lawrence McFadden.”

  “Xavier, huh? It’s different.”

  “That it is and symbolic too.” He winked. He hadn’t told Madi about the little boy he’d seen twice now at the cemetery.

  After all, there were a few things that needed to stay just between him and Hunt… and this would be one of them.

  EPILOGUE

  “Step into my office, Mr. Layton,” Madi suggested as Quil scowled down at her in front of the team.

  Her husband didn’t say a word, but she could see he was impressed—and probably a little turned on—by her assertiveness with his teammate. She was sure he’d use it erotically against her later, which she would thoroughly enjoy; but, for now, she had to really be boss lady.

  She took the elevator back up to her office and sat, typing out an email before hearing a knock and Quil entered.

  “Madi, I don’t wanna do it,” he practically whined and folded his tall, handsome frame into the seat across from her desk.

  “Stop being such a baby, Quil. It’s good publicity for you and the organization. And it’s for a damn good cause, as you well know.”

  “C’mon, Madi, please don’t make me?” Was he begging? How silly!

  “Oh, grow up. It’s just a short two-hour date!”

  “I’m not ready. You of all people can understand why.” Dammit, of course he would guilt-trip her about this. “How was your honeymoon, Mrs. McFadden?”

  Madi couldn’t help but be swept back to Cancun for the three days she and her Greek god husband spent there. It had been amazing. Adventurous snorkeling, incredible sex, and all the fresh seafood she could hold. It had been Heaven, truly, and her husband had never been more wonderful…and sexy…and dominating.

  Madi shivered at the memory, then drew her brows at Quillan. “It was perfect. Now stop changing the subject.”

  He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Quil, you’re the most eligible bachelor on the team.”

  “Am not,” he grumbled and looked down.

  “Look…” she softened her tone.

  “Just—please? Send someone else. I’m not the only bachelor on the team. I’m a closet introvert, and I’ll make a big mess of this. Send someone who loves being the center of attention.”

  “Well, Travis is engaged so that won’t work,” she teased.

  “What about Paxton?”

  “What about him?”

  “Duh, he’s freakin’ Thor in a football uniform. Studly, smooth-talking, always smiling. I’m too broody. Thus, why I’m called Hades. Not exactly charity raffle date material. Poseidon on the other hand…” He had a good argument there.

  Madi held her hand up, stopping him and mulled his words over carefully before pressing her intercom.

  “Yes, Mrs. Thom—I mean, Mrs. McFadden.”

  “Kathryn,” Madi scolded, “just Madi works. Can you send Paxton up here, on the double?”

  Kathryn stuttered but did so, and after several minutes of Quil scowling and Madi feeling no sympathy for him, Pax came in all sweaty and out of breath.

  “You rang, Hera.”

  Madi’s brow rose and she pointed the pen in her hand at the leather chair next to Quil.

  “Ok, you two can duke this out, play Rock-Paper-Scissors—I don’t care—but either way, one of the two of you is going to represent this team for the charity date at ACH next Friday night. So, pick which one. You have sixty seconds.”

  Pax looked at Quil as if to say, “What the hell did you just sign me up for?”

  Quil was quick on the draw. “He’ll do it.” He moved to stand, and Madi pointed her pen back down to the chair. “Oh, c’mon, he would love to do it. Wouldn’t you, Pax?” Quil gritted his teeth at him.

  Pax shrugged happily, loving the intrigue, the young and naïve man clueless to what he was volunteering for. “Sure. Why not? What do I gotta do?”

  “Yeah, tell him, Mrs. McFadden.” Quil scoffed, and Madi narrowed her eyes, shutting him up.

  “It’s simply a date.” When Pax’s brows rose, she elaborated, “The single ladies across the state will donate money to the hospital to be entered to win a date with you.”

  “That’s it?” Pax snorted in surprise. “Dude, you’re such a pussy.” He shoved at Quil.

  “Fuck off, Poseidon.” Quil shot him a bird before rolling his eyes.

>   “Pax, this is important. No sexual relations. No kissing. Just a good old-fashioned date. Remember, you represent the organization. You’ll be a perfect gentleman and graciously take the winner out. Make it enjoyable, make her feel appreciated. I’m assured it will be females only.”

  “Oh good…I mean, I am from California, which automatically makes me more open-minded than you conservative southern folks, but I draw the line taking a man out on a date.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  Madi’s brow arched. “Are you done?” she sassed, and Pax blushed dejectedly. “As I was saying: you represent the organization, so I’ll expect your best behavior—otherwise you’ll be running laps until you pass out and I’ll fine the shit out of you.”

  Pax stifled a laugh at her serious tone. “Aye aye, boss. You’ve been hanging out with Zeus too much, I see. He’s rubbing off on you.”

  Quil looked at Pax fearfully, baring his teeth, as if waiting for Pax’s head to get blown off by the hollow-tipped bullets Madi was suddenly shooting from her eyes.

  “I can’t keep food down. I’m exhausted no matter how much sleep I get. I’m not allowed enough caffeine, and I constantly balance between the desire to screw my husband and wanting to kill him. Tell me, how would you feel?”

  Pax bowed his head; a puppy being scolded for peeing on the rug. “Sorry I said anything,” he mumbled. “Sooo…back to the date. I guess most these broads will be old and rich, so I shouldn’t have an issue about wanting to fu—er—screw any of them, huh?”

  Madi just grinned deviously. She wouldn’t elaborate that this charity event wasn’t just for the rich and famous of Atlanta but a community-wide collaboration between the team and the hospital. It would raise money for the children’s hospital while garnering more interest in the football team and players. People could donate anything from pennies to thousands and each time they did, their names were put into a raffle pot where one would be drawn out randomly as the lucky winner. She’d just let him believe what he wanted to. After all, all he had to do was show up, go on the date, then go home afterwards. No strings. No catches.

  How hard could that be?

  SNEAK PEAK AT PASS INTERFERENCE

  PROLOGUE

  Paxton “Poseidon” Guthrie laughed and patted his teammate’s shoulder as they entered the doors of the exclusive gentlemen’s club, RISE.

  It was one of the classiest, most luxurious strip clubs he’d ever been in, and he’d frequented many in his twenty-five years on the planet. Brilliant Chandeliers cascaded from the ceiling and the curtains were gold and black; even the poles were shimmering, along with the masked dancers. Damn, so this was what $5,000 a year membership bought a man, huh?

  Quillan Layton seemed to be just as impressed as he smirked over at Pax, his thick brows rising.

  It was Monday night, practically their “Friday.” They’d been watching game film all day and got out of meetings by four. It had been Pax’s idea for a night on the town and who could pass up an opportunity to come to one of the most infamous gentlemen’s clubs in Atlanta? Especially when Quil had an invite he’d never cashed in. Plus, he owed Pax big time for the charity event he was doing come Friday night, all because Quil had pussied out on Madi.

  They were escorted by one of the hostesses to a table closest to the center stage where a woman in a deep purple and silver wig and matching mask danced on the pole. She had a great body from what he could see. It was covered in thin lace that matched the rest of her “costume.” She winked at Quil, and Pax rolled his eyes.

  Quil had that broody, broken hero look—the one the ladies just swooned over. Tall, dark, and handsome—or so they’d said. Pax was a sandy blond, blue-eyed California boy with a gold tan and a build as solid as a Ford F-150. He could lift tires as big as Quil without straining. He was a linebacker who crushed quarterbacks for a living. Pax was…totally getting passed up by the hot stripper for Quil.

  “Dude, what the fuck!” Paxton mumbled under his breath. “Every damn time.”

  Funny thing was, Quil wasn’t even interested…or so it always seemed. And Pax could understand. Quillan’s wife died last year and he was now raising a seven-year-old little girl alone thanks to her drug addiction.

  “Uh, no thank you,” Quil answered as the stripper whispered into his ear, running her hand along his jaw then down his chest to his ink-sleeved forearm.

  Pax was close enough to hear her say, “Don’t worry, stud. I’m clean.”

  It wouldn’t have mattered if she was clean and housed a platinum-coated pussy, Quil wasn’t gonna touch a stripper. He hadn’t thus far anyway. What made this one any different?

  Pax noted her body was covered in tattoos: various flowers, hearts, a pirate, a skull. Her porcelain skin was a paradox of seamless designs running from the wrist of her left arm, diagonally across her back and down her entire right leg. Her nose was pierced with a sexy little diamond that emphasized her button nose and her eyes were big and doe-like, lashes thick.

  “C’mon over here and sit on Poseidon’s lap, angel. I’ll let you release the Kraken if you’re a good girl.”

  She smirked at the challenge before her, turning her attention back to Quil. She moved into his lap, much to his dismay it would seem. She tilted her head quizzically and studied him as if he had a hidden road map in his eyes.

  “If he’s Poseidon then who are you?” she asked Quillan.

  “Oh, he’s Hades,” Pax answered for him, knowing Quil was a man of few words.

  “Hades, huh?” That seemed to excite her even more. Well, damn, Pax thought.

  Pax looked over at Quillan as the stripper began to rock her body against him and checked his watch. He’d give the girl another three minutes before Quil told her to am-scray in typical Hades fashion. The TE didn’t mind watching, but he didn’t want to participate—not usually, anyway.

  As Pax waited, a shot girl came by and took his drink order. Quil ordered a tonic on ice. Just a tonic.

  Damn, looks like I’m drinking by myself too, Pax scowled to himself. Pax didn’t drink often, but he was craving hard liquor tonight. He was anxious, dreading the shit-show to come—a shit-show his CEO had got him into. He was certain his date on Friday night wouldn’t be quite as sexy as the chick seated on his buddy’s lap.

  “You don’t like me, do you, god of darkness?” The exotic—in more ways than one—dancer asked Quil.

  She didn’t know that Quil wasn’t one for small talk. Until one got to know him, he didn’t have much to say. Quil was philosophical after all; he got that from both his Spanish and Native American roots.

  “Perhaps a kiss will change your mind.” She arched a brow.

  Before Quillan could protest, the stripper was grabbing his shirt collar and had her tongue down his throat. Pax harrumphed. Damn, what the hell kinda club was this and where was his stripper—or was only one assigned per table?

  He looked around and motioned to the approaching shooter girl; he thanked her for the drinks and asked for a dance too. She gave him a nod and set their drinks down. Meanwhile, Quil suddenly seemed interested in the stripper now that she’d overpowered him; not that Pax could blame him, she was licking Quil’s lips like he was made of chocolate or something. Shit! The lucky S.O.B. And fuck, she had a tongue ring too.

  Pax shook his head. No damn fair. He was the one who’d wanted to come out tonight and have a good time, but it looked like Quil was the one having the good time.

  Quil appeared to come to then, the wicked enchantresses’ curse breaking, if only momentarily. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her back some, gaping at her strangely.

  “Oh, you suddenly remember you two aren’t alone? Hi! Yeah, remember me?” Pax smarted, and Quil glanced over at him, looking dazed and confused.

  Damn! Again, Pax was blown away. When was the last time he’d been kissed stupid like that? It’d been a long time.

  “Yeah, you’re buying the drinks too, asshole. I can’t believe I’m stuck doing your di
rty work Friday night because you aren’t man enough to take some stuck-up Atlanta socialite out to dinner. Meanwhile, I’ll just sit here and watch you make out with the hot stripper too. Yeah, suck all the fun out of my week, why don’t you? Rub it in my face a little more. You’re a real dick, you know that?” Pax whined and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Would you excuse us, señorita?” Quil gave purple-silver stripper a sweet grin. She leaned into him, sucking his earlobe for a moment before finally hopping off his lap and throwing a business card in her place.

  “The name’s Obsidian. Give me a call when you’re not babysitting ‘Whiny’ over here, dark god, and I’ll give you a real show.” She blew a kiss to Quil and cocked her head sassily at Pax before turning on her heel and sashaying off.

  “Welcome back, earthling,” Paxton scoffed as Quil glanced his way, mouth wide in a grin.

  “Pax, you’re a total buzzkill.”

  “Me? This was supposed to be my night, not yours, damn you!”

  “God, you’re always only thinking of yourself, mocoso.” Quil shook his head incredulously.

  “Brat? Seriously? You wanna go there?”

  “Oh, shut up. I got rid of her. Now let’s find one for you since you can’t have fun without a woman around.”

  Pax knew he was pouting, but dammit, it wasn’t fair. The thoughts of having to go out to dinner with some overstuffed, ugly, rich broad he didn’t know just for show was about as appealing as getting a root canal. He realized he’d volunteered and hadn’t made a big deal out of it at the time, but Quil had been giving him that puppy dog look and Madi had been so damn persistent; he’d been put into a catch-22.

  “I still can’t believe I’m doing this for you.”

  “Oh come off it! You’re doing this for the team, not just for me.”

  “Last I remember, pal, it was your neck in the noose, not mine.”

  “Stop acting like you’re doing us both a favor here, amigo. You don’t wanna do it, say the fucking word and I’ll—”