Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,34

home, and I’m stuck. I’ll stand here until tomorrow if I have to. I have nowhere else to go.”

Except the bathroom.

And that was going to be another concern.

“We’re closed.”

I wasn’t above bribing him. “I can get you autographs. Everyone. Jack Carson. Cole Hawthorne. Lachlan Reed?” I pointed at him. “You look like a Jude Owens fan. I’ll get you a signed jersey. Promise.”

“What are you? The Rivets’ fairy god-mother?”

“If it gets me a snow cone, sure.”

“I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“But I will buy everything you have,” I said. “Please. I’ll pay double, and I’ll have Jude Owens personally deliver the jersey.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Where is he?”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Jude Owens.” He snorted. “I’m waiting.”

“So am I,” I said. “I…can’t get it for you now.”

“I’ll give you five minutes.”

“If I could get Jude here in five minutes, I wouldn’t need a snow cone.” I tested the lie. It came easily with ice on the line. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Sure, he is. You’re dating a future Hall of Famer and one of the greatest running backs to play the game.”

“So you do know him!”

“We’re closed.”

“Please.” I didn’t let him walk away. “At this point, I’ll just take a block of ice.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know what your problem is—”

“I’m pregnant.” My temper flared, and the mood swing swung like a fist to his nose. “And the father wants nothing to do with me. The only man who has offered to help me is my brother’s best friend, and I’ve had a crush on him since I was a child. Of course, I never had the courage to say anything because he’s never felt the same way. And I thought, maybe, things had changed and there might have been a chance between us, but apparently, he’s forgotten about me. He’s left me here, stewing in the heat, to reflect on every bad decision I ever made in my life—including falling in love with him even though I’m pregnant with another man’s child!” I slammed a hand on the counter. “Now. All I want is a snow cone before the sun accidentally cooks this kid inside me. Please.”

A woman shouted from the back of the truck. “Jesus, Bob. Just give her a damn snow cone. She’s pregnant for Christ’s sake.”

The man’s wife appeared like the Blessed Mary. She scooped a heaping portion of ice into a paper cone and prattled around the truck, banishing her husband to retrieve the last of their machinery they’d stacked outside.

“Here you go.” She molded the top into a perfect circle. “What flavor, honey?”

Close, but my nickname wasn’t honey, the team decided to call me Doctor Honeybuns. I didn’t correct her.

“Blue?” I asked. “No. Red. No. Green!”

“Coming right up.”

She handed me a dripping snow cone ribboned with every flavor she had available. I pushed my credit card over the counter and took the cone with two hands.

Her face pinched. “I’m sorry, honey. We can’t take a credit card without our computer up.”

And just like that, my world crumbled.

I was a reasonable, independent woman of character, integrity, and class, but in that moment, I cracked like a cheap Tupperware container lodged in the bottom of the dishwasher.

My lip trembled first, but I couldn’t hand the snow cone back before sniffling.

The fat, incriminating tears heralded another mood swing. This one skipped the weepies and crushed me into utter despair—even worse than the paper towel commercial that ran with the puppy and his muddy paws.

I sniffled, apologizing for the card, the inconvenience, and the scene I was making blubbering over some damn ice.

The woman tisked her tongue. “Oh now, honey. You take it. Really.”

“I—I—I couldn’t.”

“Go on. You deserve it.”

“But—”

“It’s hotter than a pig’s backside out here, and twice as filthy. You need to take care of yourself. Take the snow cone and enjoy it.”

“Really?”

“Life’s too short to fight a pregnancy craving. Take it.”

I pocketed my card. She handed me some napkins for my tears and the unpleasant addition to my snow cone that dripped from my nose.

“Now go before they close the fence and lock you in here all night.”

Wouldn’t that be the perfect end to the day? I thanked her again and cuddled with my snow cone as I returned to the front of the practice facility.

Still no Jude, but at least I had a snack.

I sat on the stairs and called him once more. The call went directly to voice mail.

Again.

“Jude, where are you? I’m stuck at practice. You left me here!” My temper flared. I nearly crushed my ice. “I’m going to give