Quarterback's Unknown Baby Daughter: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  The more I think about that, the more that same misty feeling creeps up on me again, telling me I’ve missed out on something important. I look at Deanna and admire how lovely she’s remained over all these years. God, she was beautiful then and in many ways even more beautiful now. What if I had stayed? Not taken that scholarship? Found a local college instead? Gotten married to Deanna like the whole town figured we would? We would actually be this happy family right now, not this impressionistic portrait of one. My life that could have been.

  If you hadn’t been such a self-centered jerk.

  “This is just like old times, isn’t it?” I say, course-correcting my runaway train of thought.

  Deanna turns her attention to me. “Not exactly. But it is fun to come back here. Thank you for bringing us... and for dinner.”

  “My pleasure. I can afford fancier restaurants you know; I hope you don’t think I’m being a cheapskate. I just thought Grace would enjoy this place more than a three Michelin-star.”

  “You’re probably right.” Deanna laughs. “This was a perfect choice.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  “Life is all about choices, isn’t it? Where you end up is only where your choices have brought you.”

  “I never thought about it that way, but that’s a mighty profound observation. You must have gone for a philosophy degree at college?” I tease.

  With a pang of guilt, I realize I don’t know where Deanna went to college, or if she ever did. Her family wasn’t exactly rolling in dough back then. In fact, it was one of the things we argued about the last time I saw her.

  Deanna chuckles and shakes her head. “No. I own a flower shop.”

  “Really? That’s fantastic.” Add that to my list of ignorances. Not only did I draw a complete blank about her education, but I also had no idea she was a business owner, or that she even liked flowers.

  Maybe if you’d kept in touch, you’d know these things, asshat.

  But then again, it was Deanna who’d said she never wanted to see or hear from me again. Or rather, had texted it. In retrospect, it seemed a callous, undeserving end to something that had so much potential.

  “Where’s your shop? I’d love to see it.”

  “It’s called the Yellow Rose, right downtown, just off Grant Avenue.”

  The Yellow Rose of Texas. It describes her exactly. A beautiful blossom sprung from the dry, dusty Texas plains, and every bit as rare.

  “I help on Saturdays,” Grace pipes up. “Mom says I’m the fastest ribbon-tier she’s ever seen.”

  Deanna smiles and puts her arm around her daughter.

  “Is that a fact? Well, with hands like yours I’m not surprised,” I say with a smile. “That will be a tough career choice, world-famous ribbon-tier or pro football star.”

  Grace’s green eyes that are replicas of her mother’s go wide at my comment. “Can girls play professional football?” she asks in wonderment.

  Again, I’m struck by the amazing resemblance between Deanna and Grace as I look at them side by side in a loving embrace. Something is missing from the picture though. I’m not sure if I’m wondering more about why Grace’s father isn’t in it, or whether I could fit into that same frame. I exhale a deep breath. This unexpected wave of nostalgia from being back in Odessa must be affecting my brain, putting such thoughts in my head.

  “Well, like your mother just said, you can go anywhere your choices take you. By the time you grow up, I think it’ll be quite possible there may be a pro league for women. If you’re willing to work hard for it, I believe anything is possible. Wouldn’t you agree, Deanna?”

  Chapter Five

  Deanna

  TRUTH OR DARE

  The man has some nerve, I’ll give him that. What is he playing at, with his open-ended questions and impossible predictions? He’s already got Grace wrapped around his little finger and sucked into his unrealistic cloud of ambition. Sweeping her off her feet with his charm and Texas-size dreams just like he did to me. I’ll be damned if I let that happen.

  “Well, I agree it seems to work for you. Your choices have gotten you everything you wanted; taken you everywhere you wanted to go, haven’t they?” I answer, tilting my head the way I do when I want to make a point.

  Wyatt stares me down, his piercing blue gaze sending mixed signals that I can’t completely sort out. Adorable little crinkles form at the corners of his eyes as his face lights up with that too-sexy, signature smile.

  “Yes, I’ve been pretty lucky,” he says with a slow nod.

  Smug rascal. Has he brought us here to flaunt his fame and fortune in our faces? I shift uncomfortably in my red vinyl-padded seat. The way he looks at me is unnerving. I don’t know what’s going on inside that big, ivy-league brain of his. All I know is that he’s here, three feet away from me and making me feel a whole mess of emotions. Desire. Doubt. Betrayal. Regret. Longing for something that never was, and never could be.

  The bell over the entrance door jangles me out of my semi-trance.

  “Mom!” Grace unravels herself from my possessive embrace. “There’s my friends from school. Can I go over and talk to them? Maybe bring them over to meet Mr. Connor?”

  Wyatt shifts his focus toward Grace, releasing me from its grip. “I guess you’ll have to ask Mr. Connor,” I reply, returning my hands to my lap where no one can see them trembling in nervousness.

  “Tonight, I’m all yours, Grace. Any friends of yours are friends of mine,” Wyatt says.

  Grace smiles and jumps up from her chair, leaving the two of us alone. My fingers knot together beneath the table. What on earth can I say to him after all these years? That I still haven’t forgiven him, and all the dinners and sexy smiles in the world weren’t going to turn back time, make things the way they were? It’s true what they say: sometimes you can’t go home again.

  “You shouldn’t go filling a youngster’s head with dreams that may not come true,” I say.

  You’ve done enough of that already.

  “Why not? Everyone needs a dream to chase. How else will it come true?” he asks.

  “She’s a twelve-year-old girl,” I argue. “She doesn’t know what she wants; by next week she could be into something else, like jazz dance or skateboarding or tennis or... anything.”

  “Like being a florist?” He grins.

  “Maybe,” I reply, bristling. “Something wrong with that?”

  Wyatt shakes his head. “No, not at all. Was that always your dream, to own a flower shop?”

  “Not always. One summer I took a course in floral arranging and loved it. When the opportunity came up to buy some shop space, I decided to go for it.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m glad you found your passion.”

  As he says the word ‘passion’ my insides do a flip, and for a second I see the old Wyatt, or perhaps the young Wyatt, gazing across the table at me like thirteen years has just melted away.

  God, I’m losing it. Get a grip.

  “Like you found yours,” I say.

  Wyatt nods but doesn’t speak. The awkward silence is killing me. I want to scream, run, fake a seizure – anything to get out of this silly, caught-in-a-time-warp diner before I do something stupid; like falling for my first love all over again.

  “So how are your folks?” I ask, changing the subject. “Do they enjoy living out east? New York must have been quite a change from West Texas.”

  “It was.” Wyatt straightens in his chair, obviously picking up on the new tone of the conversation. “I never expected them to live in the city. They missed the great outdoors of course, so I bought them a five-acre property in upstate New York. I visit when I can, and they come to all the home games. What about yours?”

  I push away my finished plate. Small talk. This is good. This is safe. “Well, my daddy passed away two years ago…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry…”

  I wave a hand. “We miss him, but life has to go on, you know?”

  “And your mother?”
r />   “Mama is a very devout Christian, you may recall.” I remember her spouting gospel at Wyatt across the kitchen table a few times.

  He chuckles. “That I do. She made me think that all the demons of Hell would be unleashed upon me if I did anything improper with her daughter.”

  Oh, Wyatt; we went so far beyond improper.

  I clear the tiny lump in my throat before continuing, “So she was accepting of God’s will when we lost Daddy. Since then she’s been very close to Grace and me, but she’s found her own path too. In fact, she’s away on her annual trip with a women’s Bible group right now. A Caribbean cruise, if y’all can believe that.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows rise. “A Bible cruise? There’s a first.”

  “I know, right?” I shrug. “After Daddy died, I guess she reckoned she better get a head start on her bucket list.”

  “A good and wise woman,” Wyatt concurs.

  “Very. Money-wise too. To be able to do all the traveling she wanted, she sold our family home to me and bought a condo nearby.”

  “So, you’re living in the same house you grew up in?”

  “Yup. I’ve fixed it up a bit, but essentially it looks the same as ever.”

  “That’s great; nice place to raise a family.”

  “It is,” I say, thinking about the all-too-obvious fact that I’m doing it alone.

  I realize I’m biting my lower lip, and force myself to stop immediately. I don’t need to give him any subliminal cues about the state of my personal life. I can’t think of anything else to say, and the awkward silence descends again.

  This time, Wyatt is the one to break it.

  He leans forward with his elbows on the table. “Deanna.”

  “What?”

  “I know it’s a little late, but I want to apologize. For the way we ended things. I’m sorry for what I did, and that I didn’t try harder to make it up to you, or make an effort to stay in touch. That’s not what friends do.”

  There it is. The elephant in the room.

  My gut starts to churn, and it’s not from the burger and shake I so shouldn’t have eaten. “We were more than friends, Wyatt.”

  “I know. That makes me twice as sorry. I should never have invited you to visit campus. I should have come home to see you that weekend instead.”

  “Why? So you could hide the truth from me, about campus life? About your other girlfriend?”

  A moment ago, I felt tongue-tied, and now I can’t seem to stop the words coming out of my mouth. It’s as though they’d been there for years, coiled like a snake waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Wyatt shakes his head. “No. So we wouldn’t have had that argument about how much it cost to get into a school like that; so that you wouldn’t have felt embarrassed that your family couldn’t afford to send you, or gotten sick at that crazy frat party.”

  “Or found out about your girlfriend,” I add.

  “She wasn’t my girlfriend.” His voice I calm and deliberate.

  “Oh, right. Just someone you made out with on a regular basis.”

  “It was one time, Deanna. I was drunk, and I did tell you, remember? You just didn’t want to listen.”

  He’s right. I don’t want to hear it. He’d texted me the day after it happened, saying how guilty he felt. I didn’t believe him, and couldn’t forgive him. I was already pregnant when I went to see him that weekend, full of hormones and mood swings I didn’t know how to deal with. Someone spiked my drink at the party, and I ended up puking all over the rickety porch of that horrible old frat house. I went home the next day, sick and scared. When he confessed to being with another girl, it did me in. I told him I never wanted to see him again, and so far, had made good on that promise.

  Until today.

  I draw in a big breath and mentally hitch up my big girl pants. A whole lot of water has gone under the bridge in thirteen years. What the hell does it really matter at this point?

  “Well, I’m listening now.”

  Wyatt flashes his incredible smile. “I’m glad. Because I mean it; I’m sorry for what happened between us and that we lost touch. But I’m real happy that you made a great life for yourself, and been blessed with such a lovely daughter. One that’s athletically inclined, too.”

  “Thank you,” I say, unable to look away from his handsome face.

  Suddenly it all feels kind of right, him being here, and I find myself teetering on the brink of something resembling forgiveness.

  “I’ll bet she gets it from her father.”

  The words drop like a bomb, catching me off guard. He’s not saying it as a question, but the statement clearly begs for an answer. My heart starts to race. I’ve kept my secret for so long; and if I don’t tell him now, maybe there won’t be another time. I swallow hard before opening my mouth to speak.

  “Mr. Connor!”

  Our heads swivel simultaneously toward the sound of his name. Grace and three other girls come bounding up to our table, breathless and giggling.

  “Can we have your autograph?”

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt

  COME AGAIN?

  This has been one crazy day. I toss my card key on the dresser inside my hotel room and kick off my shoes. Of all the things I expected to experience upon returning to my hometown, seeing double wasn’t one of them.

  I still can’t get over the remarkable resemblance between Deanna and her daughter, Grace. With the same blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and willowy frame, they could pass for twin sisters – if not for their difference in age.

  It brings back vivid memories of a life, and the girl, I left behind. And I’m surprised at how seeing her again is affecting me. I shrug off my jacket and shirt and head for the shower. It’s been a long day; with the travel, the time difference, and the events of this evening, I’ve been up for damn near eighteen hours. Being overtired can make you see things that aren’t really there, or think and say things that aren’t really true. I need to relax and get some sleep.

  The water’s hot and the small bathroom already steamy when I step inside the tiled enclosure. It’s one of those open concept things, with only a half partition of glass separating the shower area from the rest of the room. At home, the bathroom in my penthouse practically takes up the same amount of space as this entire suite. Yes, I’ve been very lucky in my career. And I’m grateful for the good fortune my life in football has brought me. But it would mean so much more if I had someone to share it with.

  The rushing water soothes my aching muscles as it runs down my back. I press my hands against the tiled wall opposite the multiple jets and bow my head. It feels fucking great and would feel even better if I had a nice warm body in here with me. Scratch that. A hot body. Like Deanna’s. Shit, wouldn’t that be crazy – if we’d bumped into each other today and ended up in the shower together? A far-fetched idea, but it doesn’t stop me from visualizing it.

  I remember many a dusky desert evening parked behind the school or down by the reservoir, our bodies jammed together in the back seat, our arms and legs in a tangle like some modernist art sculpture. Her tits were perfect orbs of flesh that fit into my eager palms, her nipples becoming little peaks of hard berries as I stroked them. In my mind, I can hear our panting breaths as we kiss each other with desperation.

  After some tricky maneuvering, she would have my jeans down past my butt, and I’d have her panties down around her ankles. Lord, she was really something. Her perfect creamy thighs would cradle my hips as I plunged into that soft, wet pussy of hers.

  Damn.

  My hand is around my stiffening cock, the stroking in rhythm with the vision of fucking my sweet girl one more time. I see her blonde locks fanned out against the faded bench seat as she tosses her head from side to side, my name escaping her lips in time to my thrusts.

  Oh yeah, baby... That’s it... Come for me.

  I ramp up the tempo, stroking harder and faster, my cock at full mast and ready to lock, load and explode. The sound of t
he shower masks my satisfied grunts as I let everything go, hot cum pumping out of my throbbing dick and mixing with the streams of hot water racing to the drain.

  Fuuuuck!!

  Fuck that feels good. It’s been too long. When I get back to New York, I should give Lilah a call. That gal is a good sport and always up for a fun time, whether in the sack or out. But the idea of seeing her fades quickly. All I can think about at this moment is Deanna.

  I finish showering while my breathing and heart rate returns to normal, my brain pondering the unusual dinner date I’ve just had. Deanna had seemed so distant and nervous the whole time. Not like the calm, sunny-dispositioned girl I knew at all. Closed-off and perfunctory in her responses. Except when it came to our discussion over that ill-fated campus visit; the one that ultimately broke us up.

  I towel off and flop nude onto the tightly-made hotel bed with way too many pillows on it. What the fuck is it with hotels and pillows? Two would be sufficient, not six or seven of them all in weird shapes and sizes that are shoved up against the headboard. I let out a long exhale. Sleep should come easy now, but troubling thoughts still sift through my mind even as I close my eyes.

  Right before a gaggle of pre-teen girls had ambushed our table asking for my autograph, Deanna seemed like she was about to say something. We’d just turned the conversation to more pleasant things after dredging up unhappy memories, and I wanted to see where it would go. Maybe it was to tell me to fuck off once and for all. I hoped not, but even so, that would have been preferable to the mysterious and unspoken statement that hung in the air. At least I would know where I stand with her. Now I might never know, or maybe I’m overthinking things.

  Did I even deserve any kind of stand? I tried to apologize, dammit. It was so long ago… Most people would have let bygones be bygones. We were just kids at the time, really. At eighteen, I was also an immature jock without a lot of relationship skills. My dick led me everywhere; sometimes places I didn’t need to be – like at my frat counterpart’s sorority house two days after Deanna had high-tailed it back home.