Turn Over:A Secret Baby Sports Romance(23)

Farther from Luke. Away from his bed. Out of reach of his arms.

I didn't know if I was landing in the middle of the dream I had spent  the past seven years creating, or running from the new one I wanted.



I slid the tortoise brown sunglasses over my eyes as I disembarked from  the plane. I carried my guitar and heavy leather bag with me. I hoped it  made me look like an up and comer. The way I used to look when I first  started playing music.

As soon as I made it to baggage claim I realized my face was too  recognizable to get away with that trick. There were a few reporters who  staked out the baggage area regularly.

"Lexi! Lexi!"

I shielded my face, smiling as I side-stepped the men.

There was a firm grip on my elbow and I inhaled the strong scent of Jake's cologne. He pecked me on the cheek.

"Good to see you, babe."

He waved off the cameras before they took a few snaps.

"Hi." I smiled sweetly.

"We need to talk." His fingers dug deeper into my arm.

"There's nothing to talk about." I think it was my nonchalant attitude that set him off more.

He practically pushed me in the back of the Escalade.

"Ouch, Jake." I rubbed my elbow.

The driver stepped out to help with my guitar.

I glared at my manager. "What's your problem?"

"You," he seethed. "You can't decide you aren't going to fly home. You  can't turn off your phone." He leaned in next to me. "And you can't be  seen kissing that asshole Luke Canton."

I laughed. "You need to get laid, Jake. You are way too uptight."

"Oh, so you got some and now you're happy and walking on a cloud."

I looked out the window, ignoring him. "Maybe."

"Damn it, Lex. You did sleep with that Neanderthal, didn't you? Look."  He waited until we pulled away from the curb to start his full tirade. I  knew this was coming. "I think I have this situation contained, but it  could have been catastrophic. Do you remember what happened to Whitney  Rivers? Should I remind you about her story?"         

     



 

"That's crazy." My stomach did a flip.

"Crazy? She got pregnant. A single girl pregnant, singing country music?  It was professional suicide. That girl had ten number one hits. Ten.  And now she has a baby. She's a walking country song. No man. A baby on  her hip. No job."

I rolled my eyes. "She could put out another song if she wanted to."

He huffed. "You think she could? Last I checked no label would touch  her. This isn't rock. This isn't pop. It's fucking country music, Lex.  She is finished. You know it. I know it."

"Well, last I checked you can't get pregnant from kissing. And in case  you're wondering that toilet seat thing is a rumor too," I smarted off.

"This is a joke to you? Your brand is a fucking joke?" Jake tugged on  his expensive cufflinks. "I made you, Lex and I can take you down faster  than you can strut your little ass on stage."

"You wouldn't," I countered.

"I would and I will if you try this kind of stunt again."

He was bluffing. There was no way he'd ruin me and lose his golden ticket. It didn't make sense.

"I think it's tiring how you constantly threaten me, Jake. We both know  it would ruin you too." I rolled my eyes. "So, we're stuck. We are  fucking stuck. Let me live my life and you can live yours."

His expression changed. There was a gleam in his eye. A twinkle I hadn't  seen in a long time. There was an uncomfortable nervousness in my  belly. He was up to something.

"Jake?" I softened my tone.

"You had your few days of fun. I'm sure he was a good roll in the sheets. Hell, he should be. But trust me, he is dangerous."

"He is not dangerous." I didn't know why I continued to argue with him.

"Oh yeah? What about the bar fights? The hotel suites he trashed from partying? The whores?" His eyes narrowed.

I couldn't let Jake turn my time with Luke into something ugly. It wasn't. I'd never seen those things Jake talked about.

I knew Luke. Yes, he had a rough exterior. But how else was he supposed  to act when he had to be the strongest, toughest guy on the field? He  was the kind of guy who drank too much. Let off too much steam. But Jake  didn't know there was vulnerability under Luke's hardened exterior.

He was smart. He was funny.

He was protective. And he brought me back to life.

"Shut up, Jake," I hissed.

"Don't cross me, babe."

I looked out the window. I had to find out what Jake had before he  unleashed my past on the world. Because if there was one thing I knew,  it was that the secret he had would strip away the fans. It would peel  away the accolades. It would steal away the adoration from the press.  I'd be left standing alone. Outcast. Shamed. Wrecked.





20





Luke





The sweat dripped from my brow. "Again!" I yelled.

I lined up to take the snap. The ball landed in my hands and I counted  back to throw to James. He had run the wrong route again. Damn it. Where  was his head today? Up his ass?

"No!" I roared over the practice field. "Do it again."

Three hours into practice and I refused to let the kid take a shower  until he had this right. He had the skills. I had seen them. He was  fast. He had the hands. He just needed to take some time to study the  playbook.

James ran toward me. He was sweating harder than I was. He gasped,  gripping his thighs. "I don't know if I can keep going. The sun is a  bitch today. Can we run it tomorrow? I'll get it tomorrow. Swear."

I looked up at the sky as if I hadn't noticed it before now. "You're a  Warrior." I smiled. "Warriors play in the Texas heat, son."

He was the youngest guy out here. He couldn't be the most out of shape.  There were some guys close to thirty not huffing as much as he was. I  remembered he wasn't from the south. He had to get his conditioning  under control. Texas was torture, but I wouldn't live or play anywhere  else.

He scowled at me, but took his position behind the line. "On my count," I  ordered. I called for the snap, waiting for him to run the fucking  route the way we talked about.         

     



 

If he wanted to be a blocker the rest of the season I could make that  happen. I was feeling unusually generous and less dickish today. I'd  give him one more chance.

And then I saw him. Wide open. Ready. He cut left then right, throwing  the defender off track. My eyes darted to the opposite side of the field  before I hurled the ball forward. It was a perfect spiral. Damn, it hit  him square in the chest.

"That's it." I jogged toward him. "That's fucking it." I laughed.

I slapped the back of his helmet with a few taps when I got to him. "Now we can hit the showers."

James fell to the ground with a thud. His legs and arms flailing in all directions. "Thank God," he groaned.

I chuckled. "You said you wanted advice, so here it is. QBs throw to the  same guys in the game who can catch during practice. There's some  confidence going into Sunday that he's going to catch the ball. Get it  out here and you get it on Sunday. Understand?"

He rolled to his side, beating the ground with his fist. I knew he was  hurting. I had run him hard. His eyes were closed. The trainers tried to  step in, but I waved them off. Out here was my domain.

"Got it."

It was the first time I'd actually given him a useful tip. A small glimpse into how I made decisions. I didn't share often.

I knew I'd throw it to him. If he ran the route like that on Sunday, he  would be my first target. I never made promises. The game always  changed. Players were injured. Someone always had an unexpected breakout  game. The circumstances unfolded like a storm on the field. And I was  the one who had to navigate everyone through the lightning and blasting  rain. This was my fucking ship.

Today's grind felt good. Working my body to the point of exhaustion was  something I was built for. And I realized how different it was showing  up to practice sober. I had more speed. My engines fired with precision.

I walked off the field toward the locker rooms.

The trainer was waiting next to the tub. "I have everything ready for you, Canton. Just like you like it."

The cold water filled the tub. I could almost feel the water on my skin  now. I threw my gear in the equipment bin and plunged one leg and then  another into the water. Robbie tipped the bucket and a fresh avalanche  of ice floated on top of the water.

I exhaled, letting my head rest on the hard surface behind my skull.

"How are you feeling?" the trainer asked.

"Good," I grunted. I wanted to let the heat evaporate. I was on fire.

"Your neck isn't bothering you?"

"No." I had an injury last season that had irritated me off and on, but  it never kept me out of a game. Robbie asked like clockwork.

Somewhere in that twisted head of his he wanted there to be something  wrong. Something he could fix. There were plenty of guys on the team who  could use help. I wasn't one of them.

"I'll check back with you in a few."