Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,222

season is over!”

Coach Scott wasn’t normally a bundle of sunshine, but compared to President Bennett, he was a regular member of The Wiggles. He handled most of the conversation, but Rose spat out the lollypop and intervened on Cole’s behalf.

“Brrr mamamama kitty!”

Dad scowled. The coaches looked inconvenienced. Great.

“Sorry.” I shushed her. “She must be an Ironfield Rivets fan.”

At least Rose giggled. Frank still ranted over the call, and my baby prepared to unleash her own encore of babble. I offered her the lollypop again and bounced her on my hip with a prayer she’d stay quiet.

“President Bennett…” Dad jumped into the conversation. “I can assure you. Hawthorne’s hit on that receiver was clean. He didn’t intentionally try to hurt the player. It didn’t even draw a penalty flag.”

“Pierce Jarvis is out for the season,” Frank said.

Coach Scott nodded. Most of his chins flapped in different directions. “These things happen when the guys run at full-speed during a game.”

Frank wasn’t hearing it. The phone connection crackled as he yelled. “Why do these things keep happening to Cole Hawthorne? Answer me that and I won’t impose a fine of twenty-five thousand dollars on him.”

“Twenty-five thousand?” Coach Scott repeated.

“And you’ll be lucky if I don’t push for a suspension! I will not let this man prowl the field looking for his next victim every damn week.”

“Frank, we’ve gotta be reasonable here,” Dad said. “These men…they’re flying at a different level. The game isn’t the same as it was thirty years ago. Hell, it’s not even the same as it was ten years ago. These guys are bigger and stronger than ever before. Don’t mistake enthusiasm for—”

“Sadism?”

The insult burned through me. “Cole’s not a sadist!”

Shoot.

I didn’t mean to speak.

Dad motioned for me to be quiet, but Rose loved to mimic her momma. She squealed, pointing a chubby finger at the men around the table.

“Yayayaya.”

I shushed her, but the attention still focused on me. I cleared my throat.

“He’s passionate about the game. He plays hard. He doesn’t intend to hurt anyone.”

To punctuate my point, Rose grabbed the lollypop and threw it.

My gregarious daughter meant to share the tasty treat with the room. To the Monarchs’ coaching staff, it appeared my baby was little more than a Sunday hooligan throwing her beer on the field after a bad call.

Coach Scott peeled the sticky lollypop from his sleeve with a frown. “President Bennett, no suspension is needed. We’ll talk with Hawthorne. Hopefully…” He eyed my father. “This problem will resolve itself shortly.”

Dad nodded. “We’re working on it.”

“Work on it faster.” Coach Scott sighed. “The team can’t have this bad publicity.”

“The team?” Frank Bennett scoffed. “We’re protecting the league, gentleman…and lady…and…small child. This association is meant to foster a wholesome image. A monster like Hawthorne is doing nothing but encouraging violence and threatening players.”

“What would be a good compromise?” Dad asked. “Should this happen again—”

“It won’t happen again,” Frank said, his voice popping with subdued rage. “If he hurts anyone else, if he even looks at another player wrong…he’s gone.”

My stomach pitted. Rose watched my expression, her little lip pouting.

“Uh-oh,” she said.

Yeah. Big uh-oh. Cole wasn’t changing his play style, and the team was done protecting him. What were we supposed to do now?

Dad gestured for me to follow him outside while Coach Scott finished the call. I faked a smile and let Rose wave buh-bye to the rest of the staff before slipping out. She held her arms out to Dad, but he hadn’t held her in weeks. She hadn’t given up trying.

The door closed behind us. He wasted no time. “Why is she here?”

“I couldn’t find a babysitter after hours.”

“Find one.” He gritted his teeth. Rose’s pout finally broke him down. He squeezed her little fingers to pacify her. “You have to go see Hawthorne. Now.”

“Now?”

“Get him to agree to this trade.”

“But—”

“The team isn’t going to put up with his bull—”

“—Language—”

He grunted. “Another bad hit, another unnecessary roughness call, anything, and he’s cut. The Monarchs don’t want the league pressure anymore. Get his consent to be traded before we lose him.”

“He doesn’t want to go,” I said.

“Do you? You’re my daughter, Piper, and I love you, but—”

Did he? I was starting to question it. I stormed away, trying to ignore his voice.

“Do this trade for me?” Dad asked.

No. I wasn’t doing this for him or for me. My only priority was taking care of Rose.

But keeping the job and getting fired were equally terrible prospects. I needed the money. My budget was already paper thin, especially