Icing The Kicker E-Book

Mary E. Thompson

• Herausgeber: BluEyed Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

After Greg’s professional football career ends, his agent gets him a job coaching college football, hoping it’ll improve his tarnished image. Greg is less than thrilled with the opportunity, and even less impressed with his two kickers; a junior with a history of injuries and an untested freshman. 
Single mom Isabella has always held tight to the control she had over her life. With her son going off to college, she knows she has to ease up on that and trust he’ll make smart decisions, and that his coaches will watch out for him. 
With the media highlighting every single one of Greg’s failures, he’s not sure he can handle the pressure of teaching two kids how to make something of themselves. But when he meets Isabella, he finally feels like the man he always thought he’d be. The one he doubted ever existed. Until Isabella made him want to come out and stay.  

Leseprobe

ICING THE KICKER

A SMALL TOWN SPORTS ROMANCE

PARADISE PARK

BOOK 7

MARY E THOMPSON

Icing The Kicker

Paradise Park, Book Seven

Copyright © 2016 Mary E Thompson

Cover Copyright © 2020 Mary E Thompson

Cover Photo (man) from depositphotos, Copyright © NewAfrica

Cover Photo (football) from depositphotos, Copyright © JoKalar01

Cover Photo (striped background) from depositphotos, Copyright © A-R-T-U-R

Cover Photo (wood background) from depositphotos, Copyright © Alexis84

Published by BluEyed Press, All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses, locations, and events are either products of the author’s creative imagination or are used in a fictitious sense. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-944090-19-7

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the Author

1

Greg McIntyre paced around his tiny house, less than thrilled with the turn of events in his life over the last few months. A year ago he was getting ready for his first NFL game of the season. He expected the same for this year, but instead he spent the weekend coaching his first college game... as the Paradise Park University Tomcats kicking coach.

When Carson Elliott first mentioned the coaching position Greg was sure his agent was fucking with him. It was an elaborate ruse, too. Right up until Greg went in for an interview for the damn job.

His new boss, Jeff Kelley, actually needed to interview him. He was Greg McIntyre, for fuck's sake. Not some newbie no one had ever heard of. Greg was famous, not that he was always proud of that, he thought with a cringe. He was out of options though and took the job, and its one year probationary terms. Greg would play nice, but not because of the terms. He could care less about his probation. Greg wasn't planning to be around for longer than a year. He was going to get his job in the NFL back and show all the naysayers they were wrong. Jeff wasn't a washed up playboy with more money than sense. He could still kick the shit out of the ball. And he'd prove it when he got back on the field.

His phone rang, snapping him out of the dark spiral he was in. He looked at the screen and couldn't stop the grin that split his face. He swiped to accept the video call and his grin only got bigger when he saw her face.

“Hey big bro,” Marisa said with a grin that matched his. “How's Paradise?”

“Very funny, smart ass. You know it sucks.”

Marisa laughed at the scowl that tugged his lips out of their grin. Her hand rested below the screen but Greg knew she was resting it on her belly. In vitro had been hard on her, all six times, but she was a trooper. Greg was happy he didn’t live near her and witness how hard the process was on his only living relative.

He also didn’t dare ask if the seventh time had been the charm. If it wasn’t, he’d pay for number eight, too, if that was what Marisa and Phillip wanted. If it was, he’d spoil his niece or nephew with everything a baby could ever need, and then some.

“How are you feeling?” Greg asked, changing the subject from his miserable existence.

“Did Phillip already call you? I'm going to kill him?”

Fear surged through Greg at the look on her face. “I was just asking because I care, sis, not because I know anything. What’s wrong?”

Marisa blew out an irritated breath before a smile crept in. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

Elation swept through Greg so fast he couldn’t even identify the emotion. Especially when it was quickly replaced with a fear so intense he had to sit down before he fell on his ass. He covered it with, “What do you need? What can I do? Pick out the best crib anywhere. I don’t want anything but the best for my nephew.”

Some of his anxiety slipped away when Marisa laughed. “How do you know it’s a boy? Maybe I’ll have a girl.”

Greg scoffed. “Please. You were meant to raise a boy. Phillip too. I can’t see either of you knowing what to do with a pink bow, let alone braids or ponytails.”

Marisa laughed at the honesty of his statement. She’d always been a tomboy. Her dark hair was cut short to her chin for as long as Greg could remember. In recent year she’d cut the back even shorter, some style she insisted was popular. Greg thought it suited her, gave Marisa a little bit of an edge to go with her spunky personality and shit kicker attitude.

“Yeah, well, not all boys are easy. If memory serves, you gave Mom and Dad a run for their money when you were a teenager.”

Greg smiled. He spent most of his youth trying to get his parents to notice him. As a teenager he gave up trying to impress them and spent his time impressing girls, a tactic that got him a college scholarship and an NFL contract. Only then did he feel like his parents saw him.

Then he screwed that up too.

“Where’d you go?” Marisa asked, bringing Greg back to the present again. Damn, he needed to focus. He’d never get his shit together if he couldn’t even focus long enough for one phone call.

“Sorry, just spaced out for a minute. So, how are you, really? Are you excited about the baby? Is Phillip driving you nuts? I can buy you a house down the street. Or one for him if you want to stay where you are.” Marisa laughed and shook her head. When she shrugged Greg went on high alert. “Is something wrong?”

Marisa shook her head. “No, the doctor said everything is fine. It’s normal to be tired in the first trimester. Supposedly it gets better, but I feel like I could sleep around the clock and not catch up.”

“You'll be fine, Mar. Just tell Phillip he needs to pamper you some more. A massage, a pedicure, maybe one of those trips people take before the baby comes.”

“A babymoon?”

“Yeah, that thing. Get out of town for a while. Go somewhere you haven't been. Trust me when I say kids are tough.”

“You love it. Just admit it. You'd have tons of kids if you could find a woman who could put up with you.”

“Ha ha,” Greg deadpanned. “You're so funny. There are plenty of women who want to put up with me.”

“I'm not talking about the ones who want you for a night. I'm talking about the ones who want you forever.”

The thought made Greg cringe. He thought he'd met someone like that once upon a time, but she was more interested in being one of the WAGs, wives and girlfriends, than in being with Greg. He wasn't going through that again. Better everyone knows, up front, how things are going to end.

“I'm not interested in forever, Marisa. You know that. I'm happy how I am.”

Marisa started to say something, but Greg was distracted when he heard his name on the tv. His new house was so small he could hear the tv from every room, even though he only had one in the family room. He wandered in, wondering what filth they were going to make up about him this time and groaned.

“What's wrong?” Marisa asked.

“Nothing,” Greg said automatically. He hated worrying Marisa, especially when she was finally pregnant. After all the trouble she had getting pregnant, Greg didn't want to be the reason she had a problem with the pregnancy.

“I know that isn't true. What happened?”

Greg shook his head as he listened to Tom Marcinko, one of the local sports reporters, blasting him and his kickers.

“The thing is, McIntyre was promising when he first started in the league. He's always been a very good talent. His ability was never in question. What's in question for us now, here in Paradise Park, is if he can pull our kicking game together. Let's face it, junior starter, Joe Maven, has never been tested. He was in Saluda's shadow until this year. Can he even kick? None of us know. The back up is a local kid, great talent, but he's only a freshman. And not even a red shirt freshman, a true freshman. How can we rely on that?”

“But the players aren't McIntyre's fault,” the anchor argued. Greg needed to figure out his name and send him something.

“No, he has no control over what players he walks in to, but he does control who plays. And from what I heard, it's going to be Maven, even after his dismal performance last weekend.”

“How the fuck does he know that?” Greg asked aloud to his empty house, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

“How does who know what?”

“Jesus. I forgot you were there, Mar.”

“Yeah, I figured. What's going on?”

Greg shook his head and started to tell her not to worry when she interrupted his unspoken argument.

“Don't you dare tell me not to worry about my brother. You're the only family I have besides Phillip and I love you. I'm your only family, you idiot, so quit acting like an ass and tell me what's going on!”

Guilt ran through him at the reminder of their long dead parents, but Greg had gotten good at ignoring those feelings. Usually with a beer and a woman. It had been far too long since he'd had either, something he never would have had trouble with if his life hadn't gone off the rails.

“I'm waiting!” Marisa shouted.

“Just some sports guy who thinks he's hot shit. Another armchair quarterback that thinks he could coach better than me and has an audience to tell everyone how bad of a choice I was for the spot. It's no big deal.”

He couldn't tell her the truth. That Tom Marcinko was an ex MLB player and knew the world of pro sports better than anyone else in town, even if his sport of choice was a sissy one. It didn't matter that he'd been retired for thirty years, he was a pro and people in town listened to him when it came to anything sports.

Including Greg's new boss.

“There's more to it. Greg, I love you. Talk to me.”

Her voice pleaded with him and cracked his defenses. He never could deny his sister, especially after their parents died. With a sigh he said, “His name is Tom Marcinko. He's a former Major League Baseball player but knows his shit when it comes to all sports. To make matters even worse, his daughter is one of the PPU lacrosse coaches so he'll have access to the school that most reporters won't. Probably even the details of my contract.”

“I still don't get why you don't want anyone to know the college is paying your salary to charity. I'd think that would help your case.”

Greg had heard the same argument from Carson. No one understood why Greg wanted his money to go to a good cause, even Greg most days. The truth was he didn’t need the money. He had more than he could spend in a lifetime, even with all that he wasted on stupid shit. If he could do something decent once in a while then maybe there was a part of him that wasn’t as worthless as everyone seemed to think he was.

“Since you won't tell me anything about that,” Marisa said, breaking into his thoughts again, “then tell me more about this Marcinko guy. Who cares what he says?”

Greg groaned. “Everyone in town cares. I guess he's been a hometown hero for a long time, years. He grew up around here and when he moved back home with a famous dancer wife and a young daughter the town welcomed him back like the prodigal son. His word is gold around here. If you're talking sports, you're talking to Tom Marcinko.”

Marisa's face soured and she tossed him a glare that said he was being a dumbass, and she was going to tell him exactly why.

“When have you ever cared about what people say about you or think of you? Why does it bother you now?”

Greg shrugged. “I care what you think of me.”

Marisa smiled at him. “I know, big brother, but I'm not important.”

“You are to me,” Greg argued.

Marisa laughed. “I know. I just meant I'm not out there telling people how wonderful you are because you won't let me. If you would then everyone would know you'd paid for my seven rounds of in vitro so I could get pregnant. Or that you paid my college loans off. Or that you bought Phillip and I this ridiculous house. Or-“

“Enough,” Greg sighed. “I get it. I'm a great guy. But taking care of my sister is not something the rest of the world needs to know about. I want to keep them far away from you.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. I probably wouldn't be able to teach if everyone knew I was a direct connection to you. But I still wish these media jerks didn't drag you through the mud the way they do. It's not fair.”

“I've done enough bad in my life, Mar. I deserve all the shit they can throw at me and then some.”

“No, you don't. But maybe if you could find a nice woman in Paradise you'd have someone else to back up my stories about how amazing you are. Someone who would tell the media you're fabulous, and not just in bed. Thanks for that, by the way. I so did not need to read that article.”

Greg laughed. The woman was crazy, but Tammi had matched him minute by minute in bed. Too bad she wasn't in Paradise Park.

“I can't control her. And we already had the conversation about me not getting tied down here, or anywhere. I'm meant to be single, Mar. That's not going to change.”

“If you met the right woman it would. I bet there's a woman out there who'd be perfect for you. Blonde hair, plenty of curves, easy laugh-“

“I'm hanging up now,” Greg told her.

“I love you, big brother,” Marisa said to halt his actions.

“I love you, too, sis. Say hi to Phillip for me. And congrats again. Let me know what you guys need.”

“You've done too much,” Marisa argued.

“Never,” Greg countered.

They said goodbye and Greg set the phone down. He dropped onto the couch and shook his head. He'd never do enough for Marisa. It wasn't possible. Especially since he was the reason they no longer had their parents.

2

Isabella Chandler slammed through her front door with her seven year old daughter, Blair, on her heels. Isabella’s feet ached from the pumps she wore all day, but she couldn’t kick them off. Not when she had people coming over. No one wanted to see her stuff thrown everywhere, a lesson her mother had taught her well as a child.

“Take your backpack up to your room and get started on your homework,” Isabella told Blair. “I’ll be up to check on you in a few minutes.”

Blair did as she was told, a small miracle Isabella would say a prayer of thanks for if she had time. She kicked her shoes into the tiny closet behind the front door and dropped her briefcase on top, knowing she’d regret it if anyone opened the door, but hoping they wouldn’t. She kicked the door closed and rushed into the kitchen, tugging her silk blouse from the pencil skirt she wore to work every day. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what she already knew. People would be arriving at their house in less than an hour for dinner.

Isabella thought about her new client as she snatched dish after dish from the fridge. At first she didn’t want to take the woman on as a client since she had so many other cases she was working on, but the more she talked, the more Isabella knew she had to do it. After all, she’d already lived it once, and she wasn’t going to let someone else go through the hell she went through. Never mind what it did to her kids.

Thankful she’d prepared things ahead of time, Isabella pushed her ex from her mind and focused on the dinner party she was hosting all too soon. She should have known better than to have people over for dinner on a work night, but since school started back she hadn’t seen her friends much. She kept the night small with only Emma, Jeff, Taryn, Jo, and Eric. Still, Isabella wouldn’t stand for anything less than perfect.

Thirty minutes later Isabella rushed up the stairs, sliding her earrings out as she went. At the top of the stairs she swore softly when the back of one earring fell onto the carpet and vanished. She crouched down and ran her hand over the low pile carpet but couldn’t find the damn thing. She didn’t have time to keep looking.

“Are you almost done, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Mom. Mrs. Lovelace doesn’t give us much homework.”

Isabella nodded knowing it was only going to get worse. It always did.

“Okay, well everyone will be here soon. I’m going to get changed and then I’ll check your homework while you get dressed.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Isabella had no idea what was going on with Blair, but she wasn’t going to ask too many questions. Any time a seven year old did what was asked, you thanked whatever god was listening and prayed it would happen again one day.

In her bedroom Isabella stripped her blouse off and tossed it toward the hamper in the corner of her room. Her skirt went next. She crossed through her bathroom into the closet wearing only the lace bra and panties she’d worn to work. She grabbed a pair of black cotton capris and a loose fitting pool blue colored t-shirt. Just as she pulled the shirt over her head, the doorbell rang.

“Shit,” Isabella said softly. Then louder, “I’ll check your homework before bed, Blair. Get changed and come downstairs.”

Isabella heard Blair moving in her room and rushed downstairs, trusting that she was getting ready for dinner, which of course meant changing from the jeans she wore to school to her shorts and a t-shirt so she could run and play with Taryn.

Out of breath, Isabella whipped open the door just as the bell rang a second time. She plastered on a grin and prayed she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt. “Hey guys! Come in!” she said, stepping back to allow Jo and Eric to step inside.

“Is Taryn here?” Blair asked as she ran down the stairs. “Oh, hi.”

“Blair!”

“It’s okay,” Jo said sweetly. “We aren’t nearly as fun as Taryn. I’m sure she’ll be here soon though. I talked to Emma on our way over and she said they were leaving soon.”

Blair grinned at Jo and accepted her hug. Isabella tried to get over her mortification that her daughter would be so rude. She couldn’t believe she’d done that! How horrible.

A knock on the door had Blair jumping away from Jo. She yanked the door open as it started to move and Jeff nearly toppled inside.

“Taryn!”

“Blair!”

“Let’s go play outside!”

The girls took off in a swirl of bright colors and happiness. Not for the first time, Isabella wished she had their energy. She flashed Jeff a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”

He grinned at her and waved his hand. “Nothing to worry about. I know how they are.”

Isabella was grateful for Jeff’s friendship more often than she could count. When she realized Blair’s best friend lived on the same street it felt like a godsend. Especially when she realized he was another single parent, someone who could relate to the endless worry, constant motion, and crazy life of a single parent. Jeff was easy to talk to but quiet and private. Isabella was so happy when he found Emma and opened up a little more. He also started taking Taryn more, which made Blair ecstatic to have her best friend two houses away more often.

As the girls vanished Isabella led the way to the kitchen. “Everything will be ready soon, guys. Why don’t you all head outside?”

Jeff and Eric went for the door, but Emma and Jo stayed inside. “What can we do?”

“Nothing, seriously. I’m almost finished.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at her. “Which means you have stuff to do. I can carry plates outside and Jo can help you cook since she’s much less likely to burn down your house than I am.”

Isabella laughed and shook her head. Emma grabbed a platter that was ready to go and headed for the door. Jo stepped up next to her. “Put me to work.”

With a sigh, Isabella accepted the help. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Jo to help, but she felt guilty inviting people over and then making them cook for themselves. Isabella worked hard to make sure she could take care of her family and whatever friends they welcomed into their world. She kept everything in her life carefully balanced and couldn’t handle it well when something tipped. Her world could not tip.

“We’re just doing easy stuff tonight. Emma already grabbed the pasta salad and the fruit tray. I’ve got potatoes in the oven with the kale chips. The salmon kabobs are ready to go on the grill.”

“Is the grill started yet?”

Isabella shook her head. “I was getting everything ready to go. I’ll go turn it on.”

Jo shook her head. “No. You stay here and check on the stuff in the oven. I’ll get the grill on and we can get the salmon cooking. Relax.”

When Jo walked out Isabella forced herself to take a breath. She hated rushing, even more than she hated running late. It was a pet peeve of hers. She was always early for everything if she could help it. Being late meant she didn’t respect whoever she was meeting, and that was simply not acceptable.

Especially according to her mother.

The door opened again and Emma walked in with a grin. “The guys are getting the grill started. Jeff offered to grill for you. Jo said you have salmon kabobs?”

Isabella nodded. “A recipe I found on Pinterest.” She nodded to the plate on the counter. “Big chunks of salmon with lemon slices between them for added flavor. I sprinkled some salt on them and squeezed a little extra lemon juice over top. Hopefully it’s good.”

“It sounds delicious,” Emma groaned. “I wish I could cook like you.”

“I’d be happy to teach you,” Isabella said automatically. Of course, she had no idea when she’d find the time, but she’d make time for Emma. She always had time for her friends.

“I don’t think Jeff would know what to do with me if I started cooking. He’d think someone had taken over my body.”

Isabella laughed. “I’m sure he’d appreciate having you help out. Cooking together can be pretty fun, too. At least, that’s what Jo and Eric say.”

Isabella giggled when Emma plugged her ears and hummed. “No talk about my brother’s sex life. It’s off limits!”

The woman shared a smile. “Jeff and I don’t need any help in that department.”

“What department?” Jo asked as she came back into the kitchen.

“Sex. I was telling Isabella I needed her to teach me how to cook and she said cooking together can be fun, according to you two.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jo agreed with a mischievous grin. “Cooking leads to more than just food. We’ve had sex in the kitchen almost as much as any other room in the house.”

“I’m never going to your house for dinner again,” Emma deadpanned, making Isabella snicker.

“Oh, please,” Jo argued. “Like you two haven’t done it on the table.”

Emma gave them a salacious grin that answered for her. Jo shook her head. “We need to get Isabella a guy,” Emma said. “We need someone to talk about sex with who isn’t related.”

“No kidding,” Jo groaned.

They both turned to Isabella as she shook her head. “Not happening, ladies. You both know I’m not getting involved with anyone. I have no interest in going through all that again. One disaster was enough for my lifetime.”

“Don’t you miss sex though?” Jo asked.

Isabella shrugged. “After a while you sort of forget about it. I’m so busy with the kids and work that sex is the furthest thing from my mind. At night I fall asleep exhausted. I wouldn’t have enough energy for sex if I had a guy, so why have one that’s just going to leave when he realizes it. It’s not worth the stress.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short. I’ve had so much more energy since Jeff and I got together. Sex is good for you. It’s great for your skin and excellent for your mood. You should at least try to get some once in a while even if you don’t keep the guy around long.”

“I agree,” Jo added. “I wasn’t interested in a relationship when I met Eric, but the benefits far outweigh the fears I had before. He’s an amazing guy and the sex is even better. I’m happier and healthier than I’ve been in years. Hell, even my dad doesn’t make me so crazy now that Eric is around as a buffer.”

“Well, you two lucked out. I’ve never had any luck picking out decent guys. I always seemed to fall for the ones who could talk their way into your pants but had no intentions of sticking around longer than necessary.”

“You were married for almost 13 years. It sounds like he stuck around for a while.”

Isabella snorted. “Yeah, except he was screwing half the town and I had no idea. He was so charming he could talk his way out of anything. That’s why I’m not getting involved with anyone again. The guys I fall for are always the ones I need to stay far away from.”

Jo and Emma exchanged a look. “You’ll find someone. I can feel it.”

“I think you can feel your stomach rumbling because the only thing I’m going to find is dinner. And soon. If we don’t get the salmon on the grill we’ll be eating at midnight and the guys will miss the NFL game tonight.”

Emma and Jo both groaned. “Please don’t remind them. They’ll be rushing out of here in an hour so they can catch the pregame commentary, the line-ups, and all the other crap they talk about for hours before the game is actually on. Don’t get me wrong, I love sports, but holy cow those football guys can talk forever.”

“Welcome to my world,” Jo said. “I grew up with it. It’s even worse when your father played and then became the local sportscaster.”

“He’s had some pretty nasty things to say about Coach McIntyre,” Emma said. “I haven’t met him yet, but Jeff said he’s a pretty good guy. Has Matthew said anything about him?”

Isabella shook her head. “Nothing bad. He thinks the guy hung the moon. Matthew is his new biggest fan. He can’t believe he’s working with someone every day who used to be in the NFL. It’s like his dream come true.”

The others laughed. “I bet,” Emma said. “Being with someone who actually made it and saw their dreams come true is pretty awesome. I’m sure Matthew is learning a lot from him.”

Isabella shrugged as she picked up the tray of salmon to carry outside. “I hope so. All I hear about is how awesome he is. Matthew didn’t get any playing time last weekend though, so maybe he isn’t around the guys as much as I worried about. As long as he doesn’t start telling my 18 year old son to go out drinking and sleeping with half the women in town, I’ll let him live. But if he fucks with my son, he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Jeff asked.

“Coach McIntyre.”

“Why?” Jeff asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Emma went to him and rested her head on his shoulder and rubbed a hand down his chest. “Isabella is just venting. She said if he does anything to hurt Matthew she’ll kill him.”

Jeff shook his head. “We don’t have to worry about him. I’ve gone out to dinner with him a few times. He’s a good guy. He wants back to the NFL. He’s going to work his ass off while he’s here so he can get a new contract. He’ll be gone when the season ends.”

“I just hope he doesn’t do anything in the meantime to cause a problem with Matthew. If he does he’ll wish he’d never heard of Paradise Park.”

3

Greg told himself he could handle it, but he really couldn’t. As soon as Dustin Bryant of the Tampa Bay Titans missed his third kick, Greg knew he had to get the hell out of his house.

He drove into the sleepy town of Paradise Park without a clear direction. On a Thursday night, the whole place was quiet, like the town itself had been tucked into bed. Greg knew there had to be something open. The town wasn’t big enough for him to miss it, so he kept driving.

Lights beckoned him in the encroaching darkness. He drove toward them and found himself in the parking lot of a bar. Hank’s. At least he hoped it was a bar. If not he was going to be seriously pissed off.

Greg parked his Lotus at the back of the lot so none of the drunken idiots inside would touch it. The bitter wind off nearby Lake Erie whipped through his designer jeans and black Henley when he climbed out. He reached for his leather jacket then thought twice about it. He wasn’t going to let anyone touch that. It was the first splurge he made when he signed his NFL contract and no one was going to get their hands on it.

He rushed across the parking lot and welcomed the warmth of the bar inside. A hostess gave him a quick once over before flashing a smile that said she was more than happy to serve him instead of just show him to a seat like she offered.

“I’m just gonna grab a seat at the bar,” he told her gruffly, then softened the tone with a casual glance down her tall, lean body. She was pretty, but a little too skinny for him, and about ten years too young. Still, for a night, she’d probably do, but if he was stuck in the god forsaken town for a year and Hank’s was the only bar, he probably didn’t need to fuck up his welcome by screwing the employees.

Temptation ramped up to full blast when Greg found a seat at the bar and a bleach blonde with a name tag that read ‘Holly’ on her oversized and half exposed breasts smiled at him. “What can I get you, gorgeous?”

Greg shook his head. “Club soda for now.” He glanced up at the tv above his head and saw the same game he was trying to avoid. He cursed softly, but Holly was still there watching him.

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow that told him her natural hair was much darker. “You don’t like football?”

Greg sucked in a breath, taking the smell of stale beer, something grilled, and a light perfume scent into his lungs. He looked back at the tv and shook his head. “What can I do to get you to turn the channel?”