LuckyBastard: A Cocky Hero World Novel

by Ryan, Kaylee

  “Yeah, I eat salad.” He drops his hand and pulls his long form from the couch.

  Turning on my heel, I make my way to the kitchen. I don’t have to turn to see if he’s behind me. I can feel him. I gather the bag of salad mix, a tomato, a bag of cheese, and the bottle of ranch and French dressing from the refrigerator. “I only have French or ranch.” I hold up the bottles to show him.

  “I’ll eat either.”

  “Good. Tomatoes and cheese?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He comes to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder as I start to prepare our salads. “What can I do to help?”

  “Uh… there’s a bag of croutons in the cabinet there.” I point to the cabinet by the fridge. I quickly avert my gaze back to the salad in front of me to keep from drooling over him. I am holding a knife, after all. I need to stay alert or I fear I could lose a digit.

  “Plates?” he asks, taking the lid off the Crock-Pot and bending closer to inspect the contents or maybe smell it; I’m not really sure.

  “Above your head. There’s a spoon in the drawer in front of you.” I can hear him messing around, and with a quick glance, I see he’s plating us each some of the chicken casserole.

  “This smells fantastic. What’s it in?”

  “Just chicken breasts, cream of chicken soup, milk, salt and pepper, and some boxed stuffing.”

  “Easy enough.”

  “Do you cook?” I ask him.

  “I know my way around the kitchen, but I don’t do it often. Cooking for one isn’t much fun. I always make breakfast. Hitting practice on an empty stomach is not fun. I eat a lot of takeout, or at Harvey’s. What about you? From the looks of this, you know your way around a kitchen too.”

  “I can cook. I just don’t do it often. Like you said, cooking for one is not so fun. I had planned to eat this all weekend, and then take the leftovers into work for Aubrey, Chance, and CJ on Monday.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate that.”

  “They do. It happens pretty much every time I cook. I hate the idea of food going to waste.”

  “Yeah, me too. Eating out is easier.”

  “I eat a lot of frozen meals, which I know isn’t exactly the healthiest option, but it works.”

  “Sounds like the two of us should share more meals together.”

  Deliberately ignoring his words, I turn to face him, saying, “Here you go.” I hand him his bowl of salad. Grabbing my bowl, and the two bottles of dressing, I place them on the table. Landon already has our plates with two forks, so there’s nothing left to do but drinks. “What would you like to drink? I have water, lemonade. I think I have a bottle of wine….” My voice trails off as I try to remember if I do, in fact, still have a bottle of wine.

  “Water is fine. I’ll grab it. Sit.” He points to the seat at the table next to his, where he places my plate. It would be rude to move to the opposite end of the table to get some distance from him. He’s so… big and commanding, and he makes my tiny house feel even smaller.

  “So, your folks live in Georgia?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad once he’s seated.

  “My mom does. She loves it there.”

  “That’s important. Loving where you live.”

  “What about you? Does your family live nearby?”

  “They do actually, about an hour from here. I still don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. They make it to all of my home games, and we usually have dinner afterward. Sometimes Mom cooks at my place. She thinks that she still needs to take care of me.”

  “I can imagine that’s a feeling or need rather that never goes away once you have kids.”

  “That’s what she tells me.” He takes a bite of his casserole, his salad bowl now empty. “Wow, this is really good.”

  “You doubted me?” I feign being shocked.

  “Never.” He takes another big bite. “You want kids?” he asks.

  Luckily, I’m in between bites or I might have choked. “Yes. Do you?”

  He nods. “Yeah, one day. At least two, if not more. It was lonely growing up as an only child.”

  “Right?” I say, nodding. “I was always allowed to have friends over, but it isn’t the same. Not only that, but I’ll never be an aunt, not by blood anyway. Well, I guess if my future husband has a sibling who has kids. CJ is the closest thing to a nephew for me.”

  “You know, I never really thought about that.”

  I shrug. “I begged my mom for a sibling when I was little. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood that she needed a man to make that happen. My dad never knew about me. I guess he was just passing through. They spent a magical week together, and then he was gone. She didn’t know how to reach him, and when she finally found him, he was married. Mom just figured it was easier to let it go. I was eight at the time.”

  “That had to have been hard. Growing up without a dad.”

  “My mom is amazing, and except for the father-daughter dances, I didn’t really notice much. It was me and Mom against the world.”

  “My parents said they didn’t want more than one. That they couldn’t imagine loving another like they did me.” He grins and winks. I appreciate that he realized the conversation was getting heavy and his attempt to lighten it is greatly appreciated. I don’t really talk about my dad. I’m surprised I did just now. Something about Landon gets me opening up.

  “Is that how the story goes?” I tease. “Would they tell the same version?”

  “Okay, so maybe they said I was more than they could handle.” He laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen and makes my house feel not so… lonely.

  Landon helps himself to another serving while I finish my first. He polishes it off and stands, taking both of our plates to the sink. In no time at all, we have the kitchen cleaned up and Landon pulls me by the hand back to the living room. This time he sits down on the couch, his back propped up on the arm, and spreads his legs, patting the empty space between them for me to sit. “I don’t think I’ve had enough experimenting to know if I really like this cuddling business.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.

  “Come on, freckles, humor me.” He tugs gently on my hand and I plop down on the couch. Rolling onto my side, I rest my head on his chest. He pulls the cover over me and begins to surf through the channels. He stops on some Sci-Fi movie. I hear the sound of the remote being placed on the end table, and then feel his hand as he rests his large palm against my back.

  We’re both quiet for several minutes. He begins to rub his hand up and down my back, and my body relaxes further into him. I should fight it, but I don’t have the power. For tonight, I’ll let him win. We’re just two friends hanging out and watching a movie. There will never be anymore than that, not between us.

  “Not bad for date number three,” he says softly, bending down so I can hear him better.

  I peer up at him, and his blue eyes are soft as they take me in. “This wasn’t a date.”

  “Oh, Em, it was a date. I brought you flowers, we had dinner, and now I’m holding you. It’s a pretty damn good one if I do say so myself.”

  “Landon—” I start, but he places his index finger up to my lips to stop me. “Just pretend with me. For tonight, let’s just pretend that this is our normal.”

  It’s a bad idea. A very freaking bad idea, and I know this, but I nod anyway. It’s like I can’t seem to control my reaction when I’m this close to him. He runs his thumb under my cheek and for a brief moment, I think he’s going to lean even closer and kiss me. He doesn’t. He smiles softly, drops his hand, and turns his attention back to the TV. All the while, he never stops tracing the length of my back.

  I’m in trouble.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter 8

  Landon

  I know the exact minute that she falls asleep. Her body fully relaxes into mine, and her breathing evens out. Slowly, I exhale as I try to decipher what’s going on. As I try to wrap my head around what the fuck I’m doing. I’m surprising myself with
this girl. I’m not acting like me at all, yet at the same time, it all feels… right.

  The more I’m around her, the more I want to be. Is it the chase? No, surely not. Yeah, I want her to agree to go out with me without me having to trick her, but the funny thing is, it’s not really about that now. Suddenly, it’s just about spending time with her. Hearing her laugh, getting one of those beautiful smiles directed my way. It’s watching her green eyes sparkle when she pretends to be irritated, or the way she trusts me to hold her here on her couch while she sleeps peacefully.

  Life comes easy to me. Football was something I picked up on at a young age and my skill has just grown from there. I’ve never really had to struggle or want for anything. Even my professional football career, the scouts were coming to watch me play as a freshman. Yes, I worked hard, I give it all I’ve got, but it doesn’t feel like work when it’s something that you love.

  Even women. I was the hot new QB on campus, and the girls flocked to me. Same way in high school. I’ve never had to find female companions, never had to pursue someone. Turns out, I like it. I like it a lot. In fact, I love that she doesn’t seem to care that I’m a professional athlete. Hell, she’s not even a fan of my team. I can’t hide my smile when I think about her wearing the Mavericks T-shirt to training camp. She’s her own person, knows her mind, and I really like that. More than I ever knew or thought I would.

  My phone vibrates from its spot on the end table and I wince, hoping like hell it doesn’t wake Em up. Reaching behind me, careful not to move her, I grab it, and the vibration against the wood silences. Glancing at the screen, I see Case’s name. Letting the call go to voice mail, I fire off a text.

  Me: What’s up?

  Case: Harvey’s?

  Me: Can’t.

  Case: Dude, what’s with you?

  Me: I’m on a date.

  Case: With who?

  Case: Wait. You don’t date.

  I do now.

  Me: I do now.

  I can see the little bubbles bouncing, telling me he’s writing back. I’m sure I’ve shocked him. I know I’ve shocked him. I don’t date as it’s hard to decipher the real from the fake. Who wants you for your fame and fortune and who wants you for you. I can say with 100 percent certainty that the woman in my arms couldn’t care less about my career or my bank account. No way is this fake—the way she watches me or blushes when I call her freckles. The way she continues to shoot me down even when I can see it in her eyes, that telling me no is the last thing she wants to do.

  Case: Prove it.

  I hesitate before snapping a picture of her in my arms. My smile is wide and genuine as I hold her while she sleeps. I have to admit this being my new normal sounds pretty fucking good. I could get on board with hanging out with her like this. Shaking out of my thoughts, I send him the picture.

  Case: No shit.

  Case: Are you boring her or what?

  Me: Fuck off. Tell Harv I said hey.

  Case: 10-4

  I love how he easily lets me off the hook because he knows I’m with a woman, but if I would have been sitting at home enjoying the peace and quiet there, he would have been knocking on my door and dragging my ass to the bar. He’s giving me peace for now, but I know as sure as I’m sitting here, that the next time I talk to him, he’s going to give me shit. Then he’s going to want to know what’s going on. What my intentions are. He doesn’t know her, has only met her once, and he’s still going to ask me.

  Placing my phone back on the table, I try to focus on the movie. I’ve missed over half of it, and it’s unable to grab my attention, unlike the beautiful woman sleeping in my arms. She shifts, and now she’s lying on top of me. I bring my other leg up on the couch and wrap both of my arms around her. Closing my eyes, I focus on memorizing how this feels.

  I used to think guys like Trent were crazy for having a wife and kid while traveling all the time… to be away from them while we’re on the road. It’s not about the temptation. You can remove yourself from that easily enough. The guys that give in to temptation put themselves in the middle of it. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she were mine. What would it be like coming home after being on the road to find her warm and snuggled in my bed? That image alone has my cock stirring to life, and we can’t have that. Not with her body aligned with mine. I don’t want to scare her off. No. In fact, I want to keep her with me as long as possible.

  Holy fuck. I want her to be mine.

  I let that thought take root, decipher what it would mean for me and for her, and then my mind goes to being with her like this all the time. No more random hookups. Instead, something meaningful and real.

  Am I ready for that?

  Am I ready for her?

  Those are my last thoughts as I drift off to sleep.

  * * *

  Feeling as though I’m being watched, I peel my eyes open. Emma is still on top of me, but now she’s on her belly, her chin propped by her hand on my chest. Her green eyes stare at me intently and a slight blush coats her cheeks.

  Busted.

  “We fell asleep,” she says before I have a chance to call her out on watching me.

  “We did.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  Another thing that sets her apart from the others is she’s open and honest. Sure, sometimes I feel as though I have to pull it out of her, but we’re just getting to know each other. I can only imagine that over time, I’ll never have to guess or pry it out of her. She’ll just tell me like she did just now.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “You first.”

  “I’m thinking we should make this a tradition, naps on Saturday afternoons.”

  “Pretty soon the season will start and you won’t have Saturday afternoons available for naps.”

  “There’s always the off-season.” She closes her eyes, and I hate that we’ve lost that connection. “Em.” I brush some loose strands of hair away from her face while I wait for her to decide she’s ready to face me again. When she does finally open her eyes, they’re intense as they lock on mine.

  “This isn’t a game, Landon. I can’t do this—” She indicates her head toward me. “—kind of thing without catching feelings. I know me, and I know I can’t do it. I won’t pretend to say that I know you, because I don’t. Do I think you’re a good guy? Yeah, I do. Do I think that this is really what you want? No, I don’t. It gets to you that I told you no, so you’re pulling out all the stops for me to say yes. What happens when I do? What happens then?”

  I don’t have an answer for her, at least not one that she wants to hear. Instead, I answer honestly. “I’m not sure what this is. I’m not sure what it means that I’m perfectly content to hold you in my arms on a Saturday night when I could be… anywhere else.” Hurt flashes in her eyes, and I rush to explain. “I didn’t mean it the way that it sounded. I just mean, that this is where I chose to be. Here, with you. Why do we have to name it?”

  “Because I want the fairy tale.”

  I nod. I don’t know what to say to that. She deserves the fairy tale, but I’m not sure that I’m the one who can give her that. We’re at an impasse. I want to spend more time with her, I want more moments like this, but I don’t know if I can give her what she wants or what she deserves.

  I guess only time will tell.

  “You ready to watch another movie?” I ask instead. Her entire demeanor seems to deflate as if she was holding out hope that I would be her prince charming and sweep her off her feet. I wish I could be that guy for her. Right now, I don’t know if I am. I have so many emotions running through me. Elation that this beautiful woman would even consider letting me be a part of her life. Fear that she wants it to be more. Worry that these feelings swarming me are just because of the chase, because she turned me down. That’s how this started. I don’t know what any of it means. I need some time to work it out.

  What I do know is that I will never regret any amount of t
ime that I get to spend with her.

  “Sure,” she says, and gingerly climbs off me.

  I miss her heat instantly. “Want some leftovers?” I ask.

  “No, thanks. Help yourself.” She disappears down the hall, to I assume the bathroom.

  Standing from the couch, I stretch, then reach down and adjust my cock. I’m a man who just had the body of a beautiful woman aligned with mine; I can’t be held accountable for my actions. I know she felt it, but she didn’t say a word.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I open the cabinets until I find a bowl and make another big serving of her chicken casserole. This shit is amazing and I’m going to have to ask again how she made it. Grabbing two bottles of water, I head back to the living room. Emma is there, curled up in the corner of the couch with the blanket thrown over her legs.

  Is that disappointment I feel? “Got you a water.” I hand her one of the bottles and take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. I fucking hate the distance that one cushion keeps between us, but it’s what she wants. Until I know what I want, what all this shit bouncing around in my head means, I owe her that.

  “I’m glad to see that’s getting eaten.” She nods toward the heaped bowl in my hands.

  “It’s so good. Can you send me the recipe? This is something I could make for myself and eat it for a few days.”

  “Sure. I’ll text it to you.” She reaches for her phone, her fingers flying across the screen, and then my phone vibrates on the table. “Sent.”

  “Thanks.” I toss her the remote. “Your turn to choose.”

  She snags the remote from where it lands beside her on the couch and begins to scroll through the stations. “I really don’t care what we watch.” She settles on the Hallmark channel, and I can’t even find it in me to be irritated. Normally, I would be, but this… two chick flicks in one night, and no chance of getting laid, it’s nothing. I don’t care even the slightest because I’m with Emma. That’s gotta mean something, right?