Heart: BWWM Secret Baby Romance Page 4

  I rolled my eyes. The guy looked thirty and was still living with his parents.

  Why was it so hard for men to grow up?

  “So, how’d that chick turn out for you the other night?” Jimmy the bartender whispered, as Ben walked closer and leaned over the bar. I didn’t know if they knew I was eavesdropping – or if they even cared, really – but the guy smirked cockily and nodded in that look that basically said, “Yeah dude, I totally got laid.”

  I scoffed. I knew the guy was too gorgeous not to be a douchebag. Hell, they all were. His smirk turned into a wide smile just before he turned to look at me, seemingly amused. “And what is your story?” he asked, emphasis on “your.”

  “Drowning my sorrows, same as all these other dudes, I’m sure, except they’ve been drowning theirs for about ninety-two years.” I didn’t even care if the old leeches looked my way. They’d been staring at my tits for the last twenty minutes anyway.

  Ben and Jimmy both laughed. “Well, Jimmy, pour me a shot of tequila. Give her one too. My tab.”

  Jimmy nodded, and I shook my head. “No, that’s not necessary. I prefer drinking alone.”

  “Come on. Let me buy you one. You can sulk by yourself if you want. May as well have a free one.” Did he really think that I was going to bend over backward for a free drink? I chose to say nothing. Instead, I scooted my barstool further away from him and looked away. The bartender laughed loudly, and I could tell that I was making this Ben guy uncomfortable by the way I felt his body shift beside me.

  His ego was getting bruised, which was fine with me. What sort of asshole hit on a girl, obviously in a slump? I mean, unless he thought I looked attractive for some ungodly reason at that moment. I had my brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants with some flip-flops, and absolutely no make-up. I looked worse than the homeless women I passed on the way to the bar.

  “Are you always so closed off?” He pulled my barstool around to face him, and my God, when my eyes locked on to his, I was death glaring.

  “Are you always this creepy? Back off, dude. I don’t know you. I will pepper spray you.”

  “I’m Jimmy’s friend!” he laughed, gesturing to the bartender.

  “And, what’s that supposed to mean to me?! I don’t know Jimmy.” I looked the bartender up and down. He was laughing hard – quietly, but hard – and I watched as his chest rose and fell animatedly and his face grew red.

  “Well, Jimmy is a good guy.” He had a wide smile on his face as he made his way to sit at the stool next to mine. I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, Jimmy,” I said, turning my gaze back toward the bartender. “I hear you’re a good guy. Would you like a drink?”

  Jimmy smirked.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ben said, waving his hands in the air. “He’s a good guy, but he’s not that good!”

  I raised my brow. “Well then, why bring it up?”

  “I’m saying Jimmy can vouch that I’m a better guy,” he whispered, leaning forward. I could tell he was used to getting his way, not that he was even close at this moment in time.

  “Well Ben, Jimmy’s cuter.” That was a lie.

  Jimmy chuckled. “I like this girl.”

  “Me too, oddly enough,” Ben trailed, turning toward Jimmy. “Well, friends and I are throwing a get-together Friday night. If you’re done sulking, you should swing by.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, thanks.”

  He smirked, still leaning over me. “Come on. You’ll have fun.”

  I rolled my eyes again and turned away from him once again, swearing to myself that if he even tried to turn my stool around again, I’d deck him.

  “Give me a pen.” I felt his body shift as if he was reaching out toward the bartender, and then back again. “If you change your mind,” he said, just before sliding a note over to me, “this is the address.

  It took a lot of doing, but I didn’t even bother looking at it until he was gone. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  “Well played,” whispered Jimmy, as soon as the bar doors closed behind the stranger. “I’ve never seen anyone give him a run for his money like that.”

  And with that, I slung down the rest of my drink, followed by a shot. “The best cognac in the house. It’ll set his tab back a pretty penny,” Jimmy said, winking.

  I smirked, grabbed a hold of the small glass, the chill of the liquid tingling my hands – or maybe I was just drunk off my ass and my entire body was tingling – and slung it back.

  ***

  “You got an invite to a party?” That was the only part of the entire story Melinda had seemed to hear. Forget the fact that my ex was marrying my ex-best friend. Forget the fact that I drank more than I ever had in my entire life, and that I was alone in a bar and gave a guy a big ‘fuck you’ by making him pay for a shot after he’d already left and couldn’t even begin to reap the benefits of it.

  I wasn’t even sure why I told her about the party. I guess part of me was flattered. Truth was, though, I had no intentions of going. Not only was I off the market for a while, he was a total dick... a cocky dick.

  “It’s a house party. What sort of grown man has a house party?” I asked, as I curled up on Melinda’s sofa.

  “Is it his house?” She moved toward me, two glasses of lemonade in hand before curling her leg beneath her and plopping down beside me.

  “I have no idea, Melinda. How would I know that?” I rolled my eyes. There was something about a best friend that could make you feel so incredibly annoyed you’d rather pluck your tongue out than tell her anything else.

  Melinda was a good friend, though. She was also friends with my ex-best friend – she who shall not be named, as we referred to her. Melinda, being a good friend, dropped her as soon as she started fucking my ex. That was a severe no-go.

  “You have to go,” she snapped, handing the glass over to me. The ice clinked with force, as she shoved it in my face. “Hell, take me too. He said he had friends.”

  I groaned.

  “Dude, this is your chance!” Melinda busted out. “You’ll get over Craig by getting under someone new!”

  “This guy is a total tool bag. I’m not getting under him.”

  “You don’t have to date him! Just get under him! Your ‘prince charming’ will come along eventually.”

  I rolled my eyes. Did people really think that sort of shit worked?

  “We have to go to that party, Cade,” she snapped again before slamming her glass on the coffee table, and grabbing hold of my shoulders. “You’re going. I’m going. We’re going to have a good time.”

  “Besides,” she laughed. “It’s not like you’re going to be doing anything else this weekend.”

  My mouth fell open in offense. “How do you know?”

  She scoffed and threw me a knowing look. She knew everything. I told her everything, but even if I hadn’t, she’d still know it. She had birds all over the place feeding her information.

  I almost wish I hadn’t been so open, though, because from the look in her face, I could tell that I wasn’t going to get out of this very easily.

  >>Click here to receive your free gift.<<<br />
  Game Time - Football Romance

  Chapter One

  “Excuse me darlin,” a voice called. My hand stilled, a sigh escaping my lips. I didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice. A large group of old-timers who were now past drunk had ended up in my section at the diner and had spent the majority of the night cat calling and slapping my ass every time I walked by. Stuffing the rag back into my apron pocket, I turned on my heel and did my best to smile as I approached their table.

  “What can I do for you?” I said, addressing the man who has become their unofficial leader. They were all dressed in football shirts and caps and were obviously out celebrating the latest success of the local football team. I stood patiently, waiting for the man to recall why he had called me over, all the while feeling his friend’s eyes burning into my bar
e legs.

  “Bring us the bill, won't ya,” he said, a sly grin on his face. I had barely made it more than a step in the direction of the register before a firm slap came square across my ass. I turned to confront my assailant, my teeth gritted.

  “Come here, darlin,” he said, looking up at me with a slimy grin. I resisted the urge to slap him firmly. I knew that would bring nothing but trouble, and I needed this job and the money. His friends laughed.

  “Aw, he don’t mean no harm,” his friend offered, comfortingly.

  “The bill,” I said firmly. There was no mistaking my tone. It was time for them to go. It took ages for them to leave, shouting and hollering, as they headed out into the night and onto the next bar.

  Amongst the litter and debris that laid strewn all over the large table, lie a single $20 bill.

  “Did you at least get a good tip?” A voice from behind me called. The voice belonged to Ashley, and it wasn’t long before she joined me considering the debris left behind. Without saying a word, I flashed the $20 in her direction before stuffing the bill in my apron pocket.

  Ashley winced. “Ouch.”

  “At least, they are gone,” I said, sighing. Picking up my plastic bin, I set to work collecting the dishes and returning them to the kitchen.

  “I’m taking a break," I called to the front of the house, after finally clearing the table. The diner was quiet now. The early dinner rush was over, and now the punters would come in a steady stream. Checking the time on my phone, I could see several missed calls and messages lighting up the display. Christina, I thought to myself, that girl would not take a hint. Opening the conversation, I could see reams and reams of unread messages, which I had ignored over the last few months.

  Hey babe, I’m back in town now getting ready for my big day on Saturday. That’s right, Skye, I'm getting married!!! Of course, you will be there, right?

  Call me.

  Made reservations for tomorrow, lunch time at La Trevia, 1 PM. See you then.

  Switching off my phone and stuffing it back into my apron pocket, I took a swig from my lemonade and thought back to the last time I had seen Christina. It was a few weeks after graduation before we had both gone our separate ways. Christina had headed straight to L.A., determined to become a famous actress, and I was ready to pack my bags and guitar and head straight for Nashville to a prestigious music school. I knew Christina, and if I didn’t turn up tomorrow, she would come looking for me, and that was something I was keen to avoid.

  The bell tinkled as I shut the diner door behind me and walked out into the night. The night was quiet as I waited for the bus that would carry me home. I didn’t have to wait long to reach home, my feet aching after a long, double shift. Fishing the keys out of my pocket, I pushed open the door and headed into my apartment.

  “Becky?” I called through the din of the apartment. The radio blared and in the small space, the sound of banging pots and pans echoed as if I was in a studio listening to a rock concert. A head popped around the corner, sweat and dirt streaked across her face, smiling when she saw me.

  “Look who’s home!” she announced excitedly.

  “Mommy!” At the sound of my daughter’s voice, all the worries of the day simply melted away, as she catapulted herself through the kitchen door and into my waiting arms. Her own blonde hair and bright face were marred with dirt and sweat. Licking my thumb, I tried to wipe away the dirt from her face as she giggled, trying to escape my frantic cleaning.

  “Having fun, Emmy?” Her bright blue eyes danced as she rattled off the adventures that she had that day. Straightening up, I turned my attention back to Becky who stood leaning against the door of the kitchen.

  “We had the best day. We went to the park, came home for a bath, but somehow, we ended up making music with the pots and pans. Sorry about the mess,” she said, nodding back toward what I was sure was an Emmy whirlwind in the kitchen. I shrugged. All I cared about was Emmy’s happiness and safety, not having a neat and tidy house to come home to each evening.

  “As long as she’s happy,” I said with a smile. Fishing out a handful of notes that I had earned with today’s tips, I gave Becky her wages. She didn’t count them, just simply slid them in her shorts pocket and shrugged on her satchel.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Becky asked as she crossed the small apartment toward the front door.

  “Yes, please,” I said gratefully. Becky waved her hand goodbye and shut the door quietly, leaving Emmy and I alone in the apartment.

  “Well, kiddo, looks like it’s just us again,” I said, ruffling her hair as Emmy hugged my legs tightly.

  The pot bubbled away on the stove, aromas of beef and tomatoes filling the air. Emmy sat coloring at the table, scrawling furiously across a picture of Elsa and Olaf, ignoring the suggested lines and creating her own new ones.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, leaning down and kissing her hair softly.

  “For you, Mommy!” Emmy exclaimed proudly, shoving her picture in my face so that I could get a better look. I took it from her and pinned it to the fridge, Emmy beamed proudly before turning her attention back to yet another picture. Stirring the Bolognese, I couldn’t get the thoughts of Christina out of my head, and with thoughts of Christina came thoughts of Luke.

  Damn it, I thought to myself, Luke will be in town for the wedding. The thought hadn’t occurred to me before now, and it would be the first time we had all been back in town since graduation.

  Crossing the apartment, I reached up for a small, black photo album that I kept tucked away. It contained all the photos that I had of the three of us, from elementary school to graduation. My fingers traced the faces that I saw in the photos as if trying to memorize the person that I once was. Loose in the back of the album was a photo that I kept only for me. In it were a boy and a girl with large smiles on their faces, as the boy wrapped his arms around the girl, holding her tight.

  Luke, I thought, my heart hammering in my chest. His gorgeous, blond hair gleamed in the sun as we sat down by the lake on the night of our graduation. Luke had come back to see his little sister graduate, and we had reconnected. Everything changed that night, sending my life on a different path than the one I had planned.

  “Who’s dat?” Emmy asked, her attention turning to the photo I held in my hand.

  “That’s Mommy,” I said, pointing to the girl in the photo. Emmy’s fat fingers poked at the photo while she gazed up at me.

  “Like mine!” Emmy exclaimed, pointing at the hair of the boy in the photo.

  “Yes, like yours, Emmy,” I said in a whisper, an unbearable sadness rushing over me. Emmy watched me for a moment, sensing a change in mood from her mom before turning back to her picture and the innocence of childhood.

  I sat beside Emmy watching her sleep, her chest rising in a rhythmic pattern. For the first time in my life, I felt doubt – doubt that I had made the right choice for me and Emmy. I shook my head sadly, rising from my position at the end of the bed.

  There had been no choice, I scolded myself as I headed into the lounge to spend yet another night alone in front of the TV. As the sound from the TV flooded the room, I settled back onto the sofa, my feet tucked under me, flicking through the channels until I found Monday Night Football.

  “And Luke Wallace makes yet another excellent pass,” the announcer screamed excitedly. They played a replay of Luke taking the snap and dropping back, eyes scanning the field until he sees an open receiver, and hitting his man in stride for a long touchdown pass.

  My heart beat faster at the sight of Luke. Watching football was the only way I could still be part of his life. It had been four years since I had last seen him, and so much had changed, but the hammering in my chest every time I heard his name hadn’t. The school girl that had a crazy crush on Luke was still there, and there had been no one else that had come as close in my affections as he had. Images and feelings came flooding back to the time I had last seen Luke the night of graduation; of Luke’s hand in mine as
we lay side by side down by the river, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water on the shore. I could still feel the softness of his lips on mine, as he kissed me softly, and the fluttering in my belly at his touch. There was no escaping it – I was still madly in love with Luke Wallace.

  Chapter Two

  The rustle of movement beside me pulled me from my dreams and into the morning. Or was it afternoon? Slowly opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was yet another naked brunette woman whose name I could no longer remember, nor cared to know. The sun streaming through the windows hurt my eyes and my head pounded, letting me know that I had, once again, had too much to drink.

  Where had I met this one? I thought to myself, as the memories of last night came flooding back. She had been waiting for me outside the locker room, and it was her pretty face and rocking body that had caught my attention.

  “Damn groupies,” I moaned. At first, this had all seemed so glamorous – the parties, the fame, the women. But now, a different girl each night was becoming nothing but a headache.

  This is what you wanted, I reminded myself and this is what I had spent my entire life working toward: playing professional ball in the NFL. Lifting myself onto an elbow, I checked the clock, which read 1:30 PM. Great, my plane leaves in three hours, I still hadn’t packed, and I definitely needed a shower. Throwing back the thin sheet, my feet sunk into the soft carpet as I pulled a t-shirt over my head.

  “Where are you going, baby?” the woman beside me stirred, woken by my movement, her eyes following me as I moved about the room.

  “Georgia.”

  “Come back to bed. I can promise you it will be more fun than going back to Georgia,” she purred, her tone suggestive. I hesitated as I considered it. It would definitely be better to climb in next to her and not go home.

  “As much fun as that sounds, I can’t. It’s my sister’s wedding in two days.” I had already delayed going home, full of excuses that wouldn’t fly for much longer. Reaching under the bed, I pulled out the suitcase that I had stashed there when I arrived two days ago. My stuff was strewn about the room, still laying where it had fallen. Dread filled me; a small knot of anger forming in the pit of my belly as I gathered my clothes and began to throw them into the suitcase, not bothering to fold them neatly or pack properly.