Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,287

severe head trauma.”

“Second nature.”

“Undoubtedly. Do you think you can sit up?”

Lachlan narrowed his eyes, staring hard at me. He grinned. “Hey…I think I love you.”

“Okay. Time to go to the hospital.”

Lachlan shifted too quickly. That only made it worse. He swore and dropped to the concrete, smacking his head once more.

Couple more of those and he wouldn’t remember me rescuing him.

Which was good.

If I had it my way, no one would know that I had been to the practice facility today.

I patted my pocket. The SD card was securely tucked into my jeans. The photographs were safe, but the team wasn’t. The pictures might have destroyed every accomplishment, record, and win the Rivets’ organization had achieved in the past year. And if I didn’t get away from the practice facility quick, if anyone saw me, they’d know it was me who had taken it.

And this was why I never came into work early. Lack of sleep, possible media firestorm, endangering my job. Just wasn’t worth it.

“Okay, you have to listen to me, Lachlan,” I said.

“Yeah, say my name.”

I gritted my teeth. “Mr. Reed, are you hurt?”

“Aching for you.”

“Do you hit on everyone who saves you?”

“Only if they’re as beautiful as you, Red.”

He reached for a lock of my hair. The Rihanna red streaks worked well against the ebony locks. He twisted the hair between his fingers as dimples dotted his cheeks.

Dangerous dimples that possessed a unique ability to pop the hooks on a bra from across a room.

His eyes focused, but I didn’t let him up.

“I can’t be here,” I said. “You never saw me, okay?”

“See you in my dreams every night.”

What a sweet-talker. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Haven’t even bought you a drink yet.”

I was still hung-over from the binge three months ago. “A good deed is its own reward.”

“No good deed goes…” His expression twisted. Confused. “Shame. I’d punish you, naughty girl.”

Obviously I couldn’t leave him alone. God only knew who he’s spank in gratitude as he woke up.

His bag fell open at our side. I rifled through the pockets of the Tinkerbell backpack—the first of many items the team would use to haze the rookie. Lachlan laughed.

“Fuck fairies. Told them I wanted a princess,” he said. “Always looking for a princess.”

“You’re lucky they don’t have you wearing a tutu.”

“Tell me I wouldn’t make a good-looking ballerina.”

I couldn’t tell what was head-injury and what was genuine Lachlan Reed, but if the line was blurring, he was going to be okay. But he still needed someone to stay with him.

I couldn’t find his phone in his bag. I groaned.

“Lachlan, is your phone in your pocket?”

Lachlan nodded with a grin. “Permission to search. Careful you don’t rub the lamp.”

“You know what? Maybe this injury is fatal. I should just put you down.”

“End this misery, Red. Can’t go on without you.”

“You’ve made it this far.”

“Missed you.”

Was he concussed…or was he being honest?

I wished my tummy hadn’t flipped when he spoke. But there was no way he recognized me, not when he probably couldn’t remember his own name.

Right?

I yanked his phone out of his pocket. “No wonder you aren’t waking up. Your blood isn’t in your damn head.”

“…Cause of the erection?”

“Yes, Lachlan.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?” I gestured to it, bulging his pants. “You’re hurt. How can you possibly be horny?”

“Can’t help myself.”

His hands tickled up my legs. I hopped off of him before his touch summoned those damn goosebumps again. I thumbed through his phone, finding the one contact I recognized.

“I’m calling Piper Hawthorne,” I said.

Lachlan flailed, nearly knocking the phone from my hand. “Not Piper.”

“She’s your agent.”

“She’ll eat me. Not supposed to get in trouble.”

“That’s impossible for you.”

“Not Piper.” His laugh snickered with a perverted glee. “Call my wife.”

“You aren’t married.”

“Once upon a time, Red…”

“There’s no such thing as fairy tales. Just concussions.”

“Not true. Ever been in love?”

“No.” I found an entry I recognized. My finger hovered over the contact.

“You’ll love me one day,” he said.

Been there, done that, long time.

I pressed delete on the one contact that didn’t belong in his phone—mine.

“I always pack a parachute in case I fall for the wrong guy,” I said.

“What if I’m the right guy?”

“And what if you’re bleeding out your ears?”

“A hard-on is better than a tourniquet.”

“Here’s hoping the Rivets’ trainers have better medical instincts than you.”

Lachlan didn’t have many teammates in his phone yet, but I recognized one name. I texted Jack Carson and hoped that Play-Maker was early to the stadium. Asking Jack for help wouldn’t make Lachlan’s hazing any