Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) (24 page)

“I’m good, mama. Just glad to be on the winning team again.”

“Excellent. And that despot of a father of yours?”

I shook my head. My mother left my father when I was a teenager, and had only looked back for me and Jess. Back then, it felt like abandonment, but now that I was an adult, I realized my mother had been fed up for a long ass time before she finally pulled the trigger on their dying relationship.

She hid her hurt well, for years. While we were in private schools, with tutors, exclusive football and gymnastic coaches, Jack and Jill, all of that, she played the role of Stepford wife to a man who was never satisfied. His demanding nature didn’t stop at his children – it bled on to her too. Not that being demanding was necessarily a problem in itself – there was nothing wrong with pushing, expecting the best from the people around you. But with my father, it was never enough.

It didn’t matter if you made all A’s, you should have been valedictorian. It didn’t matter if you broke high school football records, they didn’t compare to college numbers. Jess made it all the way to Olympic trials in gymnastics, but it didn’t fucking matter cause she didn’t make Team USA. It didn’t matter that my mother was named “Sexiest NFL Wife” by
Baller
magazine three years in a row, beating out twenty year old women who indulged in surgery and weave, shopping for body parts like they were groceries. He didn’t care that she was an amazing mother to us, was known as
the
person to go to for planning a memorable event, or that she ran herself ragged trying to be everything.

Even as a kid, I could see that he treated her like trash, but in front of us, she handled herself with grace. I’d heard her private tears and didn’t quite understand them, because she never seemed ruffled. Even when he’d come home drunk, reeking of perfume, and later, when I recognized the smell,
women
, she didn’t seem phased.

Until he made Hall of Fame, and instead of celebrating with his family, he ended up all over the tabloids for what they called an “Alcohol-Fueled Sex Rampage”.

My mother packed her shit while he was still hungover.

“He’s… himself,” I finally answered. Truthfully, I’d been avoiding my father for weeks, and had made it a point
not
to talk to him. I was high on our current winning streak, and had no desire to let his miserable ass bring me down from it.

My mother snorted. “Sounds about right.”

“Yeah. I hate to have to cut this short, mama, but…”

“Practice, I know,” she said, sighing. “I know there’s a time difference, I was trying to catch you before.”

“Yeah, I gotta go. Please be safe with this hiking stuff, aiight?”

“I will. David makes sure of it.
You
be safe on the field, my love.”

“I will mama. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I stayed in the car for a few moments after we hung up, processing that phone call. Hearing from her had lifted a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying, because I’d grown so used to not hearing from her for long stretches while she jet-setted with David.

My father had been
pissed
when she left, and tried to stretch the divorce as long as he could. He kept her on a string for almost two years, until my mother said screw it, and started dating again. Unfortunately for my father, David’s money was much longer than his. He whisked my mother off to Vienna, Zurich, Hong Kong, anywhere she wanted to go in the world, but my father hadn’t been interested in taking her. The divorce was settled through lawyers while they were off traveling, and I was pretty sure they hadn’t stopped traveling since then.

To this day, my father hated that shit – which in my eyes, made it even better.

“Yo, you ready for this, nigga?” Trent asked me that same day, after practice.

I answered with a nod as I pulled my simple chain back around my neck. “As ready as I’m gonna be.” On the surface, it probably looked like he was just looking out for me because this was the last practice before a Thursday night game. But this wasn’t just
any
game.

We were playing New Orleans again.

I hadn’t seen Bobby Samuels since that shit went down on
his
turf, and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him. I was glad Chloe had managed to get me out of it without an apology, and Bobby was the right type of idiot to make me knock his head in again. I wasn’t sure I had the willpower
not
to.

Everybody had been in my ear about it. My other teammates, Nicki, Margo, Chloe, Jess, hell, even Eli. I told them all the same thing – I wasn’t making any promises, but I would try. And I
would
try.

An appreciative rumble went through the guys in the locker room, and I looked away from TB for the source of distraction.

Nicki.

Well – Cole.

She was wearing her glasses today – looking sexy as hell in them as she strutted into the locker room, completely unphased by the team’s half-dressed state.  I knew from this morning that she’d worn a suit, but her jacket was missing now, revealing the fitted gray pencil skirt and “Kings” blue, sleeveless silk blouse she wore underneath. Not at all revealing, and she
still
looked like straight up sex. To me, and probably every other man in the room.

She didn’t even look at me, heading straight to another player who was on her offensive roster, JR Pitts. I watched her ass in that skirt as she crossed in front of me, then looked up to see that Pitts was grinning way too hard for my liking as she engaged him.

Pitts was a known savage. Pretty boy, fan favorite with the ladies, and notorious for having no problem with inappropriate contact with the opposite sex. I’d seen him in action – reporters, cheerleaders, coaching assistants, physical therapists, whoever. And the women seemed to like that shit – I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’d been inside of every woman who dealt with the NFL, in
any
capacity.

Except mine.

“You looking like you wanna tear that nigga’s head off,” Trent chuckled quietly, keeping the conversation between me and him. He was the only person in the room besides me and Cole who knew what was up.

“Damn right,” I muttered back. But she was just doing her job, nothing to be mad about. She had to catch people when she could, and if she needed to say something in person, this was the best time for it. Nevermind that his pervert ass was shirtless, and looking at her like he wanted to snatch her up.

He’d be a lot more respectful if he knew I’d knock his head of his neck about Nicki.

I was still telling myself not to sweat it when old boy grabbed her, pulling her into his arms for a quick hug. I’d already taken a step forward when TB stepped in front of me, looking amused as fuck as he shook his head.

“Calm your tits, boy,” he said, with a brotherly shove. “You know she’ll rip your ass in half if you make a scene in here.”

I shook my head. Right or not, I didn’t like the shit, and even though Cole ended the hug damn near as soon as it started, I wasn’t about to let it ride.

“I hope you’ve got some news like that for me too, Ms. Richardson. What I gotta do to get a little contact with you?”

Cole looked back, venom in her eyes as she spoke. “You just focus on keeping the contact with you and the opposing team to a minimum tomorrow night, Mr. Johnson. Let’s
not
get arrested again, okay?”

“But you came and got me out
personally
. I got to ride in the backseat with you and everything. I’d
love
a repeat of that.”

She hiked an eyebrow. “Don’t make it seem like something it wasn’t.”

“I’m not. I’m insinuating what it’s
gonna
be if I get you in a position like that again.”

The whole locker room seemed to take a deep, “
Oh, shit!”
type of breath.

“Too far, motherfucker,” Trent mumbled, and from the look Cole was giving me, I thought he might be right.

She took a step toward me, eyes narrowed, and I held her gaze. I wasn’t about to punk out
now.

“Jordan. Johnson,” she said deliberately,
dangerously
as she stalked toward me. All eyes in the room were on us, coaching staff included, but nobody was saying anything. “I know you may think you’re “the man” on this team. Hell, in the NFL. You may have women all over you, throwing themselves at you, making you think you’re some irresistible force.” She poked a perfectly manicured nail into my chest. “But let me tell you something…” she hooked her finger around my chain, pulling it tight. “If you
ever
speak to me like that again, I will…” she leaned forward, speaking into my ear, just loud enough for me, and no one else to hear, as she twisted the chain, “
Suck. You. Dry.
”

She released my chain, and stepped back, giving me a look that would have left me sliced and diced on the floor if it was possible. “Believe it,” she spat, as if she’d just threatened to snatch my balls off my body.

“Is that a promise?” I asked, as she turned away, keeping a grin on my face.

With a last look of disgust at me, she glanced at the coaching staff. “Locker room stays in the locker room. I can handle my own shit – no need to mention it to my father. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” they answered immediately. They didn’t want reprimands right before a game either. Cole stomped out, and the locker room erupted in laughs and shouts about what had just happened. General consensus was that I’d gotten punked, but the shit was hot, so… swag me out.

I took the good-natured ribbing from my team, took the scolding from the coaches about fucking with the owner’s daughter in stride. I wanted to tell all these fools that she was mine anyway, but she was still on the whole “keep it on the low” thing, so I chilled. I didn’t want to, but…. Whatever.

For the last two weeks, things had been good between me and Nicki, but I was constantly waiting for something to pop off. Waiting for her to give another bullshit reason to end it, or slow down, or create distance. Just waiting for something to go wrong.

The shit I’d just pulled was an opening. Her chance to decide it wasn’t going to work out. And instead… she’d flirted, and played along. That gave me something I’d almost been a little scared to have about her.

Hope.

“WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO DAMN LONG?! – Nicki.”

“Relax, woman. I said I was coming. Got caught up in traffic.”

“HURRY UP!!! – Nicki.”

I chuckled, then slid the phone into my pocket. I was already heading down the hall to our suite, and could tell from her progression from a million exclamation points, to all caps, to all caps
and
a million exclamation points, that Nicki was still horny from this morning, and still stressed about her day.

I stopped in front of our door, hoping that my locker room stunt hadn’t added to our stress. I waved my wallet in front of the electronic lock so it could pick up the signal from my keycard… and nothing happened. Confused, I opened my wallet, rifling through until I found the keycard, holding it up in front of the lock again, but still nothing happened.