“Hi, Nixon.” She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth as her hands gripped the rope so hard her knuckles turned white. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Her eyes darted to the crowd around her.
“Yeah, of course.” I lifted the rope and nodded to Owen, who made sure only Liberty came through, then stood watch.
“Thank you.” She ducked under the rope in a white tank top and a long, flowing skirt with some kind of bohemian print on it.
My memory flashed with an image of her smiling up at me, wrapping her legs around my hips—Knock it off. I tried to control my thoughts, but they were firing on all cylinders as she followed me to mid-field for some privacy. No distractions, that’s what I’d promised myself, but that was before I’d thought Liberty would ever show up at training camp.
I thought I’d never see her again, given the way she’d pretty much ran off the plane once we touched down in Raleigh. Hell, she hadn’t even been the one to bid on me during that charity auction—it had been her roommates.
I turned and faced her once I was sure no one could hear us, but she couldn’t seem to find her tongue. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, and her eyes darted around us. I could almost see the conversation she was having inside her mind, but she sure wasn’t sharing it.
“It’s really great to see you,” I said softly, meaning it.
Her eyes focused on the Raptor logo just above my heart. Coach liked us to wear polos when we walked the sideline after practice.
Maybe laughter was the way to go. “You feeling like another Vegas trip after the season is over? Because I’m not sure how much either of us really remembers the first one.”
She sputtered a laugh, and I found myself utterly bewitched by her smile. It was brighter than the stadium lights.
“I’m being ridiculous,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly so her ponytail swayed. Then she looked up at me with so much excitement in her eyes that I smiled right back. “Okay. Here it is. I wasn’t happy at first, but now I am. Really, really happy, and completely excited. And I don’t need anything from you. Not a dime. Or acknowledgement, or anything. The last thing I would want is for you to feel pressured, right? Because you already have so much pressure in your life…not that we know each other. I mean, you’re absolutely right—I don’t remember a lot from that trip except that breakfast when those two people realized they were married,” she babbled.
“Liberty, what are you getting at?” My forehead puckered as I tried to follow along. What would I feel pressured about? There was zero pressure if she wanted a repeat. Hell, I’d break that little distraction rule in a heartbeat if it meant I got to fill in the gaps of my memory.
“Right. Sorry. I planned this all out on the drive over, which apparently did me no good. Anyway, I really don’t need anything from you—”
“You already said that.” I caught her shoulders when she swayed slightly. Her skin was soft under my fingers.
“And I meant it,” she assured me with a nod. “I’m only here because I think you deserve to know that you’re going to be a father, and I’m completely prepared to raise this baby on my own.”
The hell you say.
I blinked. Then blinked again. This was not happening again. What the fuck, did I have sucker tattooed on my forehead? I let her go and stepped back.
“Nixon?” her eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“Could you say that one more time?”
2
Liberty
A bead of sweat rolled down Nixon’s strong jaw, disappearing down his neck and beneath the Raptors polo he wore. Even without the pads and uniform, his broad shoulders and chest were undeniably muscular.
And felt like heaven to dig my nails into.
Or at least, I thought they did.
What stars had aligned that allowed me to sleep with the freaking hottest quarterback in the NFL?
And what curse had made me not be able to remember most of it?
I shifted on my feet, my thong Birkenstock sandals absorbing the warmth from the North Carolina summer sun. My skirt billowed down to my ankles and allowed the gentle breeze to caress my bare legs underneath, but sweat gathered at the back of my neck, dotting the collar of my white tank top.