Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (12 page)

Chapter 29

Britt

I glance in the rearview mirror at Max in his car seat. He's
wearing Hunter's jersey. My dad didn't feel up to coming to the game, but he
bought Max the jersey because he knew he'd love it, and he didn't know how much
it would make my heart ache to see him in it.

I park in the lot, and soon I'm carrying Max against my hip
as we rise up the special elevator to Hunter's box. I show my VIP tickets to
the security guard, and he lets us in. There are a few other people milling
around, drinking champagne and helping themselves to the buffet. I glance down
toward the field. There are a few minutes left until kickoff, so I bring Max
over to the food and put together a little plate of food for him.

I walk out and sit in the front row of the box's open air
seats. It's Max's first game, so he should be able to smell the grass and feel
the excitement in the air. He leans over, and I maintain a tight grip on him as
he claps his hands together with happiness.

"Hey, I'm Rich Nielsen, Hunter Phillip's agent. I don't
think I've seen you around before." A handsome man in his forties sits
down next to me. I smile a little at the meaning implicit in his words. I guess
Hunter gives a lot of women VIP tickets, though I bet none of them have brought
a kid before.

"Britt McKay," I introduce myself, then, feeling
like I owe him some explanation for why I'm here, add, "I'm Coach Lou
McKay's daughter."

"I was so sorry to hear about the stroke. How is
he?" Rich asks sympathetically.

"He's doing well, thanks. He'll only need a little more
physical therapy and then he's back to normal."

"Any underlying cause?"

"They're not sure. My dad's not too worried, though. He
says he could always get hit by a truck tomorrow anyway."

Rich smiles. "That squares with the Lou McKay I've
heard about. Hunter says he's been of great help to him in getting over this
hump."

"What hump?" I ask. "His numbers are
great."

"Sorry, I figured you guys were close or something. He
says he doesn't feel the same passion he used to. Says his teammates have started
calling him the Machine because he plays with so little emotion."

"Huh. Well, I haven't seen him play up close since
college, but he certainly had passion then."

"You went to college together?" Rich asks, his
eyes sharpening slightly.

"Just for a little. I just knew him because he was on
my dad's team," I explain. The teams take the field, cutting short our
conversation.

"What's that?" Max says, pointing to the small
group in the middle of the field.

"That's the coin toss. They do it to see who will get
the ball first, the Titans or the Texans. There, see? Hunter won, so now he
gets to throw the ball first."

"Yeah, Hunter!" Max cheers.

"This is Max, by the way," I tell Rich.

"Hey, Max," Rich says. "This your first
game?"

"I see lots of games," Max replies.

"But that was on TV, Max," I remind him.
"This is his first game in person. We just moved to town," I explain
to Rich.

The game gets underway, and Hunter seems to be playing great
from where I'm sitting. The second quarter has just started when a commotion at
the door causes everyone to look around.

"I don't need a ticket!" a young woman's voice
says from the front door. "I'm Hunter Phillips' fiancé!"

"Excuse me," Rich says, and heads for the door. I
watch his back as the voices quiet, and soon the door opens and he escorts in a
beautiful young woman: Allyson Anders. I recognize her from the picture on the
magazine, and her voice has that same raspy musicality from her songs. She
glares at me as she sees me watching her, but I see Rich whispering in her ear,
and her expression softens slightly. I'm sure he was explaining that I'm not
some woman Hunter's hooking up with, though I'm guessing the truth would upset
her far more.

I lean forward to brush a kiss on the back of Max's head.
He's blonde like his father, though a lighter shade that I'm guessing will
darken over time. I suppose I'm lucky that he doesn't look overwhelmingly like
his dad. He does have his father's eyes, but my mouth and nose, and the round
cheeks of a toddler that will obscure his face shape for a while.

I turn my head as Allyson walks outside and sits two seats
down from me. I give her a friendly smile. It didn't sound like she was being
very polite to the security guard, but there could always be extenuating
circumstances. And if Hunter is marrying her, then she must be a good person.

"I'm Britt, and this is my son Max," I say.

"Rich says you're family friends with Hunter or
something?" she replies, arching a well-groomed eyebrow.

"Sort of. I'm Lou McKay's daughter." Her face looks
blank, so I explain further. "His coach from college, sort of his mentor
now."

"Right," she nods, though it seemed like she's
never heard of him, which is surprising considering how big a part of his life
he's been.

We watch the rest of the quarter in silence, punctuated by
the sounds of Max cheering for Hunter. I grin as I watch him down on the field.
I feel just like I did in college when I got to see his home games, except for
the kid moving around on my lap. Hunter might be taken by the woman to my left,
and I would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship, but I can't
change the way I feel.

When the halftime show starts, I
take Max back inside to the restroom, and then to the buffet table again. I
make him try the ranch dressing with a baby carrot before putting a generous
dollop on his plate. Sometimes his eyes are bigger than his stomach, and he
forgets what kinds of food he likes.

I take him back to our seats. Allyson is texting on her
phone, and I carefully step over her legs, then put Max on the ground and hand
him his little plate of food. He munches happily on a carrot as he watches the
cheerleaders and begins to wiggle his body. Suddenly, I hear a gasp.

"Uh-oh," Max says. I look over, and see Allyson
raising her leg. Her pretty ankle boot has ranch dressing on the toe, and Max's
plate is on the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim as I jump up. "Let
me get a wet napkin and we'll clean that right up. Max, say you're sorry,"
I instruct him.

"These are suede, you little shit!" Allyson screams
at him, her pretty face contorting.

Max's face bunches up, and he cries. I put my arm forward
and pull him behind my leg protectively.

"Please don't talk to my son that way," I say as
calmly as I can. "It was an accident."

"These boots cost like five hundred dollars, and you're
paying for them," Allyson hisses.

"It's just a little spot. I'm sure I can clean them up
if you give me—"

"They're ruined. And you shouldn't give your little
brat a plate if he can't fucking hold it," she says.

"Sorry," Max sniffles behind me.

"I'll make sure to get your information from Hunter and
send you a check," I tell Allyson. "Come on, Max," I say,
scooping him up. "We can watch the rest of the game from home." I
carry him out of the box without looking back, and pull him tighter on the
elevator ride down.

"Sorry, Mama," he says again.

"I know it was just an accident, Max," I tell him,
kissing his moist little cheeks. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"She was mad," he says worriedly.

"I know, but that wasn't your fault, I promise. Why
don't we stop for ice cream, and we'll still have time to catch the last
quarter. Sound good?"

Max nods, and rests his head on my chest. I fume silently.
There was no excuse for Allyson Anders to talk that way to a child. It pains me
to think of Hunter with someone like that, but he's made his choice.

Chapter 30

Hunter

I frown as I listen to the message again. "Hey Hunter!
You were playing great, but Max and I had to head home! Thanks again for the
tickets."

Even after all these years, I can still hear when something
is off in Britt's voice. She sounds a little
too
upbeat. Though I guess
her life must be pretty different with a kid now, not being able to do exactly
what she wants. Maybe Max was bored and wanted to leave.

As I head out the player's entrance and through a phalanx of
barely-restrained photographers, Allyson launches herself through the security
line and into my arms.

"Great win, baby!" she exclaims, and gives me a
big kiss. I grit my teeth as I kiss her back, aware of all the camera flashes
around us. "See, we're both getting such amazing publicity!" she says
with a smile.

"Mmhm," I murmur back. She grabs my hand and we
walk off toward the parking lot.

"Can you give me a ride? I got kinda blitzed on champagne
during the game."

"I thought you were in recovery," I say as I toss
my duffel bag in the backseat of my black Range Rover.

"Not
really
. That's just what my publicist had
to say."

"You certainly keep her busy." I start the car and
head out of the parking lot. Suddenly Allyson reaches over and rubs her hand
over my crotch.

"You ever had road head?"

"Yes," I tell her honestly.

"Oh. Well, want it again?"

I can't deny that my cock's starting to stiffen, but I'm
exhausted from the game, and Allyson's sudden appearance rubbed me the wrong
way.

"Not right now," I tell her, pushing her hand
away.

"This is about that girl, isn't it?"

"What girl?" I ask with a frown.

"The one in your box during the game."

"You went up to the box?"

"Yeah, what am I going to do, sit in the fucking
stands?"

"Why would you think it's about her?"

"Don't avoid the question! I could tell you guys are
fucking by the way that she was looking at you."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I suppress it. "Allyson,
we're not actually engaged
. I can sleep with whoever I want." I
might be in this car with Allyson now, but my mind is with Britt. Does she
still have feelings for me? What if Allyson's jealousy led her to see things
that aren't there?

"So you
are
sleeping with her!" Allyson
snaps.

"For the record, I'm not, okay?" I reply
impatiently.

"Honestly, that's smart of you. She's got a kid, and I
could not imagine having to deal with that little brat on a regular
basis."

"Max? He's sweet."

"Ugh, no he's not. Look what he did!" She lifts
her leg and places her foot on the dashboard. I glance over at her boot as she
points to it.

"What?"

"Right there! He spilled dressing all over it!"

"I'm sure it was an accident."

"That doesn't matter! And when I called him on it, that
girl got all defensive. Whatever, he
was
being a little shit."

My hands tense on the steering wheel. "You called Max a
little shit?"

"Um, yeah. He was being one." I feel anger roil
through me and pull the car over to the side of the road. "What are you
doing?" Allyson asks as I hop out and march over to the passenger side of
the car. I yank open her door.

"Out," I order her.

"Why?" she asks suspiciously, though she complies.
I take out my wallet and push a hundred-dollar bill toward her.

"Call a cab. We're done," I say.

"What!?" she shrieks. "I'm famous! You can't
just leave me here!"

I glance around at the plush neighborhood we're driving
through. "I think you'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Tim McGraw and Faith
Hill live right over there if you want to ring their doorbell."

I get back behind the wheel as Allyson screams in
frustration. As I pull the car away, she throws her pocket book and it smacks
against my rear window. She actually doesn't have a bad arm.

My thoughts return to Britt. I hate the way my heart leapt
in my chest when Allyson said she was looking at me. The woman bashed my life
on the fucking rocks. She completely disappeared. Even if she does have
feelings for me and we could get back together, my dignity won't allow it. I'm
an NFL quarterback, for fuck's sake.

Chapter 31

Britt

"Britt, I think that stack of napkins is
straight," Danielle says. I glance up and see her staring at me, and then
look down at the napkins on the dining room table. I'm throwing my dad a sixtieth
birthday party at the house today, and I invited a slew of his former players.
Of course Hunter Phillips, dad's protégé, scored an invite.

"How long have I been fiddling with these?" I ask
myself.

"More importantly, where'd your head go?"

"I'm guessing you already know the answer to that
question," I say, sitting down in a chair.

"I'm guessing I do."

I give a quick glance to the kitchen to make sure my dad
isn't around. "It was easier when we were back in Oregon," I tell
Danielle quietly. "I mean, it was tough, don't get me wrong. I ran myself
ragged caring for Max and working and making sure I got my degree. And my dad
offering to pay for graduate school has been a godsend. I'll be able to get my
Ph.D. and become a psychologist and actually be able to provide Max with a good
life…"

"But…"

"In Oregon it was easier to pretend like I wasn't doing
something horribly wrong. Hunter has already missed out on the first three and
a half years of his son's life." Tears drip down my cheeks. "The
guilt is eating me up inside."

Danielle takes my hand. "I can't pretend that there
isn't some truth to what you're saying, but don't forget that you made the best
decision you knew how to make at the time. We were only eighteen. And maybe you
were right, maybe Hunter would have resented you if you told him back then.
There's no way to know."

"I want to tell him now, but I don't want to ruin his
new life. He's engaged. He's done so well for himself."

"Partly thanks to you."

"Seeing how good he is with Max...I think I love him
even more now than I did in college."

"I think you know already what you want to do."

I nod. "I have to tell him. Thanks for always telling
it to me straight," I say, giving her a hug. I head to the bathroom to
wash my face and reapply my makeup after ruining it with tears, and soon the
guests begin to arrive. I thought Max might be overwhelmed by all the action,
so I hired a sitter to take him over to her house for a while.

I keep careful tabs on my dad. His physical therapy is over
now and his right side has recovered completely, but I'm worried about him
getting overtired by the party. I wanted to show my gratefulness to him by
throwing this celebration for him, so it's important to me that he enjoys
himself.

He looks like he's enjoying himself
now. He's got a beer in one hand and a rib in the other, and he's talking with
a few of his former assistant coaches who have since moved on. There are people
from the Vanover administration here, a bunch of former players and coaches,
and some people from the neighborhood. Everyone came to show support and make
sure their favorite tough guy is recovering. The house is bustling, and people
are spilling out into the backyard where the barbecue is set up. I hired a
couple people to help out with cooking and cleanup and everything, but bought
and prepared everything myself.

Hunter's not the only NFL player my dad's coached. He might
be the highest-profile, but there's probably a pretty solid professional team
to be sourced right from this house. It's tough to see over all the tall men
around, and I feel a little thrill at the sidelong glances I get from some of
them. Sometimes with being a mom, I forget that I'm also a woman.

The atmosphere changes a little, and I can tell without
looking that Hunter's walked in. There are a couple of cheers from his old
teammates, and I quickly run my hands over the white sundress I've chosen for
today. I know he's off-limits, but I can't help wanting to look good when I see
him.

"Hey, who's that?" Danielle asks, sidling up to
me. "Right there." She points without trying to be too conspicuous.

"Oh, that's Hunter best friend from college. Adam
Fry," I tell her, glancing over at a cute guy in a nice blazer. We never
actually met, but Hunter talked about him, and as a former player for my dad,
he got an invite. "He was a wide receiver, I think."

"What does that mean?" she whispers.

"One of the guys who catches the ball and tries to make
touchdowns. I think he went pro for a couple years, but never made
first-string."

"Is he married? God, he's cute. You know, I think he
might have been on that calendar I had."

I smile at her. "So you've still got a thing for
football players."

"What can I say?" she says with a grin. "How
do I look?"

"Great. Go get him," I tell her. "Oh! It was
the Bengals he played for. Maybe that's your conversation starter."

I watch her sashay over, and then look around to see where
Hunter's gone. I walk around the house, then spot him in the backyard. He's got
a full plate of food, and is surrounded by a bunch of his old teammates. I talk
with a couple partygoers in the dining room, keeping Hunter in my peripheral
vision. Finally, he finishes his food and dumps his paper plate in the trash
can, then heads toward the back door. I walk over to intercept him, making it look
like I'm just catching him by accident.

"Hey! Thanks again for those tickets," I say.

"Yep," he replies, then turns to leave. He's
radiating coldness, and I'm thrown, but I know I need to press forward.

"Do you think we could have lunch sometime? There's
something I need to talk to you about," I ask nervously.

"Sorry, I'm pretty busy," he says brusquely.

He's never spoken to me like this before, even when we'd
just met. "Is everything okay? Is this about Allyson's boots? I sent her a
check."

His eyes flash, and he leans down. I'm distracted by the
heat from his body, but the anger in his eyes transfixes me. "No, it's not
about some fucking boots. Did you forget how you ditched me
by email
?
You didn't even give me the courtesy of saying it to my face and then you show
up here and act like everything is fine between us. How fucking narcissistic
are you, Britt?" he hisses.

I reel back. "I'm sorry," I gasp, the full weight
of my actions hitting me like a punch to the face. "You're right. I'm so
sorry."

I turn and walk away as quickly as I can through the party
without attracting attention. I bite the inside of my lip hard to keep from
crying, but my tears are in danger of spilling over onto my cheeks. I make it
to the stairs before they do, and hurry up to my childhood bedroom. Only when I
shut the door behind me do I let out a sob.

I'm such an idiot. Of course Hunter hasn't forgiven me. I
was naïve to think he would have when I haven't even talked with him about what
happened. And worse, if he's still so mad at me, how will he ever accept Max?

I sit down on my bed in defeat. The room looks completely
different than when I was in college. When I left, my dad chucked out all my
stuff and turned it into a guest room. The first time I saw it without all my
things was pretty jarring, but I can't blame him. I pull a tissue from the
bedside table and try to regain control of my breath.

There's a knock at the door. "Just a second!" I
call, but the door opens. Hunter stands in the doorway. I leap to my feet.
"Oh, I was just, um…" I stammer. He steps in and closes the door
behind him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like
that."

"I understand why you did," I tell him. He paces
back and forth in front of me, his muscles rippling as he runs his hands
through his short blonde hair.

"I was happy to see you at first, but fuck, I'm still
so fucking pissed! I can't just let it go! You destroyed me, you know
that?" he asks, stopping and turning to me, his dark brown eyes full of
pain and anger. "For months, food lost its taste. I couldn't sleep. My
grades hit the shitter. Was it all bullshit? Did you ever care about me at
all?"

"I loved you," I whisper, my voice breaking.
Seeing him like this is the worst pain I've ever felt.

"Then how could you leave like that?" he demands.

"I have thought about you every single day," I
tell him, taking a step forward. "I—no, I'm sorry. I know that you've
found someone you're happy with, and I would never...all I want is for you to
be happy, Hunter. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Allyson and I aren't engaged," he says with a
sigh. "We never really were. I just agreed to go along with it because she
needed some good publicity."

"What? Seriously?" I ask, my eyes widening. All of
a sudden the air between us feels charged with electricity. He takes a step
forward and I forget to breathe.

"Britt," he murmurs, wrapping his hand around the
back of my neck. I stare up at him. "You still smell the same."

"You, too," I whisper.

"Oh, fuck it," he grunts, and presses his lips
over mine.