ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: M.V.B. - Most Valuable Baby (Sports Secret Baby Romance) (Contemporary Interracial Pregnancy Romance) (20 page)

“I apologize. I didn’t see a ring.” I had to rectify the situation because nothing was worse than having your physical therapist mad at you.

She pulled a thin silver necklace up and out of her shirt. I caught glimpses of it decorating her collarbones but couldn’t see the entire thing. She wore a full coverage workout shirt, though her curves couldn’t be hidden. At the end of it was a ring. It looked nice and sort of expensive.

“I keep it here,” she said suddenly self-conscious. “For safe keeping and to keep it clean. You wouldn’t believe how much gunk I use during sessions.”

I knew firsthand how they used Vaseline or icy hot gel and could understand. You couldn’t use gloves and manipulate the body. It was a contact sport, just like football.

“I understand,” I said sounding so unlike myself. “Your fiancé is a lucky man.”

She relaxed under my sincerity, and it was there I saw a twinge of doubt. Did she doubt her fiancé was a lucky man? Did he not realize how lucky he was? I suddenly realized, the door to one Harper Brandon was closed but not locked. I just had to keep watching for the window of opportunity. Where I come from, we call that WOO time. It's Go Time baby, and Harper Brandon wouldn’t stand a chance against Noah “The Engine” Alexander. I hadn’t struck out yet.

CHAPTER THREE

Noah needed intensive recovery. His ACL was practically shattered and to make matters worse, he kept over doing it. He was incapable of slowing down. I don’t think he knew how to take anything slow, not his workout and definitely not his approach to women. He was a shameless flirt. We worked together every day, and the goal was to have him back into the game within six months. He didn’t like it. He practically bit my head off when he found out I told his coach to bench him. I felt bad for him too. All the sports channels were talking about the play that stopped the engine that could. They guessed at when he would be better. The media made sure to film him sitting on the bench, and I’d never seen a more miserable person in my life.

Thankfully, he didn’t take it out on me. Every session I could look forward to him complimenting me. It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. I know some women would find that endearing, but it was nerve-wracking. Imagine knowing your own stage, at work, and trying to look good. I was in workout clothes for goodness sakes. I wasn’t working out, but I wasn’t sitting on my tush either. I was just me and he was just the finest thing on earth when dry, and sin on a stick when sweaty. He hadn’t taken off his shirt, and thank God he had a knee injury and not a shoulder one. It didn’t matter, though. His thighs were as sexy as his chest. I could see every line I memorized from the Sports Magazine under his Under Armour. It gripped him as tightly as I wanted to sometimes.

Still, I held strong. I may be many things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. I hate cheaters. My father was a cheater and he broke my mother’s heart. I would never date a cheater, and that is the only thing that kept me strong against the force named Noah Alexander. With his history with women and his profession, cheater was practically his middle name. So I could take the flirting and sometimes I could even dish it back. I knew that I wouldn’t be sticking around. We had six months together; that was it. My expiration date was very clear in my mind. Noah was everything people thought he was: arrogant, determined and focused. All his drive kept him in perfect shape. He would be back on the turf soon, and I would be out of his life.

“That’s it for today Noah,” I said, picking up the small items used for his rehabilitation. “I’ll see you again, same time, tomorrow.”

“Hey, want to join me for dinner?” He asked casually this time, but it didn’t matter how he phrased it, he was still asking me out on a date. I opened my mouth to say no, again. “Look, I know you’re engaged. It’s nothing sexual. I just want to feed you. You have to eat. I have to eat. It’s a part of the regime some fine, but bossy, therapist put me on,” he joked. “I technically pay you. Let me feed you.” He turned his puppy dog eyes to me, and I could swear I saw tears welling in his eyes. It was a trick of the light, but I said yes anyway. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

“Fine,” I said, since I had no plans for the night, “but on my terms.”

His smile was breath-taking, and he accepted quickly. “Ok!”

“First, nowhere fancy. I don’t want to see a gloved waiter in sight. Two, ice cream, real ice cream. Ice cream that comes with calories and sprinkles has to be on the menu,” I said punctuating the fact with my finger in his face.

He just grinned. “And three?”

“Three is no paps. If I see my picture anywhere, I’m going to be one mad therapist.”

He groaned, “Come on Harp. You know that’s almost impossible.” He was whining. “Look at me.” I was looking, I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since I saw him. “I’m almost seven feet and look like Hagrid, only hotter. I’m kind of hard to miss,” he complained.

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way.” Famous last words.

A car drove us to the front of a restaurant. “I’m going to go through the front and David,” he said nodding his head towards the driver, “is going to bring you to the back.”

“All this to not be seen?” I asked.

He shook his head, “you wouldn’t believe the things I gotta do.” Then he stepped out and through the entrance.

David drove me around, and the door opened without showing who gave me entrance. Once inside, Noah held his arm out for me to grab it.

“My lady,” he said. “Dinner awaits.”

The entire place was empty. The blinds were closed, and the only lights came from the far corner where a table waited.

“You bought out the entire restaurant?” I asked in awe.

“Yea,” he said casually. “Everybody has a phone these days so anyone can be paparazzi.”

“You could have just let me go home you know,” I said.

He shrugged, pulling out my chair for me. “I could have.” He sat and stared at me while a man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt brought two menus. He didn’t ask us our drinks.

“Maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

“What?” I asked, feeling his gaze.

“I like your earrings. They're nice. They're new, right?”

Shocked, I touched them softly, “Yeah. You noticed them?”

He bent to look in his menu. “I notice everything about you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I could see the disbelief on her face.

“Yea?”

“Yea,” I said.

“So, what's my favorite color?” She challenged me. This was it. There was the WOO, and I dove into it, already tasting my touchdown.

“Well, you always wear blue eye shadow. Your favorite watch has blue in it. And I'm gonna bet your car is blue. Right?”

She couldn’t believe it. TOUCHDOWN! I could hear the announcers, ‘
He’s done it again Noah Alexander, The Engine. He’s done what they said couldn’t be done AGAIN.
’ She ducked her head but not before I saw her cheeks tinge pink.

“Have you decided what you’re going to order?”

I smirked, I won this round, and I was hoping to win the next.

Moe’s was exactly what you’d think it is. A hole in the wall restaurant in Carolina that only sold a few select things. Chili, chili fries, cheese fries and chili with chips. It was the best chili one could get. I remembered hearing Harper say she loved chili, and it was the perfect weather for some. When we ordered, I held my breath, waiting to see if she was one of those. You know the type. The “eating so slow and dainty” type that she’d never finish her meal. The “I can’t tell if you eat or you’re just pretending for me” type. I already knew she wasn’t the order a salad type. To my great delight, when Harper saw her bowl of chili she ate a spoonful so fast she burned her tongue.

“Slow down killer,” I joked, seeing the steam rising from our bowls.

She moaned, eyes closed and tilted her head back. The sight caused my pants to tighten uncomfortably.

“It’s so good,” she said looking at me over our lemonade glasses. “I haven’t had chili like this in a while.” Her smile faded, “it takes me back.”

Something in her mood shifted. “Was it something I said?”

She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth didn’t turn up. “No. You’ve been lovely. Don’t pay attention to me.”

“No Harper, you can talk to me. What’s wrong?” She was still guarded. “I promise, I’m a good listener.”

“It’s just my dad used to make chili like this. I haven’t had any, or seen him, in a long time.”

“Did he pass away?” I asked carefully, noting her somber tone.

She laughed humorlessly. “He might as well have.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Um, care to explain?”

Her lips thinned out to a grim line. “My father is a serial cheater. He broke my mom’s heart and moved across the country to live with his mistress. I doubt he’s still with her, but where he is, is a mystery that I don’t care to solve.”

I understood that feeling. I could feel her pain acutely. “I know exactly how you feel.” I did not want to share. It went against my façade, but she had been honest, and I wanted to reward her confession.

“My dad was a cheater too.” My announcement hung like dead weight between us.

“My mom didn’t know he was married, so she left. I didn’t find out until I was older why my dad never came to any of my games or cheered me on when I scored touchdowns.” I opened my mouth and closed it. The honesty burned to come out. “I thought, if I played harder, stronger, better, he’d come. Only he showed up a little too late, just after the NFL draft pick.”

She reached past our bowls and cups to place her hand over mine.

“So I know all about ghosts that call themselves ‘father’.”

She patted my hand softly before pulling away. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

The air still held tension, but it wasn’t awkward. I thought being honest would make me seem like a fake. Most women couldn’t stand to see me as human. They liked the jerk persona. They liked the bad boy stereotype and felt worthy when I picked them, knowing I would throw them away. But not Harper. She liked me for me and I didn’t know how to take it.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked as Moe took away our bowls.

“You can ask whatever you want. The worst thing I’ll say is no. As in no, I won’t answer it. But ain’t no harm in asking,” she said sweetly.

“Cool. Um,” I was nervous. I hadn’t felt anything like this since my first game I knew recruiters were in the audience.

“Do you think I’ll play again?”

“Of course, you will. Nothing can stop The Engine,” she joked.

“No, I’m serious Harper.”

My biggest fear was accepting the day when I could no longer play. That day was like a dark cloud hanging over me. It loomed closer and closer, and I couldn’t tell if it was just a shadow in the distance or right over me. I knew the statistics and the facts. Anybody with half a brain knows running full speed into another person repeatedly isn’t good for the body. Pain just came with the game. It was an accepted mantle. When you weighed the pros of wealth and fame, it was a minimal con. It was an accepted evil because if you don’t play, they don’t pay. But it caught up with everybody eventually. Life after football was not pretty.

Your health starts to decline as soon as you stop playing. Life as a former player is full of glory day stories, nonstop doctor visits, surgeries, various prescription drugs and other treatments. It seemed sad, and I didn’t want to be like the stories I heard about my role models. I heard it was dark and lonely. I had nothing but my trophies, no wife, and no kids. I wasn’t ready yet. It was inevitable, but I was holding out that today wasn’t that day.

“I’m serious too Noah. Listen, I don’t care what those newscasters say. It’s their job to get ratings. They have to talk about how long you’ve been out of the game and speculate you won’t return.”

I played with the frayed ends of our checkered table cloth. I didn’t want her to see me, but she was looking through me as if I was glass.

“Look at me.”

I did.

“Even if nobody believes in you, I do.” Her eyes were on fire, and I saw the same determination on her face that she’d had the first day I’d met her.

“Do you want to get back out there?”

“It’s the only place I know how to be me.”

“Then I will get you back there,” she said it with finality, and I realized there was indeed something more unstoppable than me. Engine, meet Harper Brandon.