Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,232

willingly, pack your bags, and settle in my house…or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and haul you there myself.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I’ll have a company do the baby-proofing before the end of the week. You can move in this weekend while I’m at the game in Florida.”

“Cole, you’re not listening.”

“There’s only five little words I want to hear coming out of your mouth. Repeat after me, beautiful.” Cole grinned, a beastly expression of arrogance and lust. “I’ll see you at home.”

10

Cole

Sweat stung my eyes. My legs and back ached. My body pumped on pure adrenaline.

It was fourth and goal with three seconds remaining. We held the lead, but only by four points.

The Gainsville Cougars’ offense lined up to take their final snap. They needed a touchdown for the win.

I’d never let it happen.

I lived for this moment. The tension. The roar of the crowd cheering on their home team. I always played better with my back to a wall—or, in this case, the goal line.

I got into position, my vision dead-set on the quarterback sitting under his center.

His eyes passed over me. Twice. Checking for a blitz. It was coming. He barked a hard cadence to draw me offside, but it took more than a cheap trick to burn me. But the seconds on the play clock ticked down, and no audible would save him.

I’d deliver his complete and utter destruction.

The ball snapped.

I anticipated the count correctly and bounded to my feet, plowing through the line before the offense was ready. I battled an offensive guard, too slow, too tired to beat me. He held me, but I twisted under his arms and broke free.

The quarterback saw me, but it was too late. He reared back to throw but didn’t have an opening. He panicked and spun, but he wasn’t scrambling anywhere.

I dove before he found a lane, wrapping him in my arms and slamming him into the grass. The ball popped out. One of my teammates recovered the fumble and fell onto the field.

The whistles blew. The play was dead, and the game over.

Or it should have ended.

I didn’t get a chance to celebrate. The quarterback shoved his fat hands against my facemask and jerked, nearly ripping my head off.

I heard nothing over the roar of blood in my ears. I blinked, but the white-hot fury blinded me to everything but pure self-preservation. I blocked his hands before he broke my neck. Unfortunately, my forearm clocked his helmet.

The crowd cheered.

Shit.

A yellow flag dropped at my side.

Jesus Christ. The referees thought brushing his helmet was a penalty? If they wanted a reason to throw the flag, I’d give them a bloody one.

My teammates hauled me off the bastard before I roared and tore him limb from limb. The asshole grinned at me as the referees lined up to make the call.

“Unnecessary roughness on the defense, number ninety-two—”

I shouted, but my team forced me to the sidelines. Bullshit penalty. I was the one who got hit. I was trying to defend myself!

“Locker room!” Coach Scott whipped his headset off. “Get off the field before you get ejected!”

Not like it mattered. The penalty occurred after time expired. Because of me, the offense was given one more snap. I didn’t watch the play.

The stadium erupted in frantic cheers as the Cougars scored their winning touchdown.

I headed to the locker room, swearing as a fan chucked his beer at my head from the stands.

And the coaching staff told me to calm down.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Count heartbeats? Repeat a relaxing word? I had a pint of cheap beer dripping over my face and a shit call blamed on me that led to our defeat.

Nothing could ease this rage.

Tim Morgan was the first in the locker room. He sneered at me, pitching his helmet and pads into the laundry cart.

“You had one job,” he said. “Do we have to fit you for a fucking muzzle?”

He didn’t want to fuck with me. “Stay out of my face, Tim.”

“I can throw the damn touchdowns all day, but I need some control over this shitty ass defense to get a win for this team!”

Our tight-end, Javon, stepped between us. He pointed me to the showers.

“Tim, shut the fuck up. Cole, get in the water,” he said. “Game’s done. Can’t do anything about it now. Let it go.”

Easier said than done. We only had an hour to shower and conduct interviews. I refused each one and was the first man on the bus