Page 20 of Home Town Advantage (Fourth Quarter Fever #1)

NINE

SULLEY

I t’s early in the morning. We had such a great time at the dinner party last night, but then a scary, sobering return home.

After we told Vance what was going on, he insisted on sleeping on our couch.

Between the liquor and the fear, I didn’t bother to put up a fight.

There was something instantly comforting about having him here, and I was too shaken to consider otherwise.

I tiptoe out to the living room and see Vance fast asleep. He’s on his back with one arm above his head and the other resting on his bare, shirtless stomach. The blanket is pooled at his waist.

I haven’t seen his body in over five years.

It’s only gotten sexier and has never once failed to stir something deep inside me.

I can’t help but smile at the memory of the first summer he had chest hair.

He was probably about fifteen, and it was way before my brother had any chest hair of his own.

We constantly made fun of Vance. At the time, I thought it was gross.

Now I ache to run my fingers through it again. My lips. My tongue.

Stop it.

My eyes travel from his body to his handsome face.

Even in his sleep, he looks like he’s stressing over something.

Does he regret his actions? Sometimes it’s hard to believe he did what he did to Finn, but he’s never once offered an explanation or expressed any remorse.

How could he be so callous? And then there’s the man who remembers my favorite flowers and sends them to me every week.

The one who completely flipped out last night at the notion of me possibly being in any danger.

Who refused to leave our apartment and insisted on making himself a barrier between our front door and me.

He’s such a confusing man. He equally does horrible and thoughtful things.

He shifts slightly, and I can now see part of a tattoo creeping out from his left side, but his arm is still mostly covering it. I didn’t know he had a tattoo. That’s new since I last saw his body. I wonder what it is.

I try to get a closer look, but he begins to stir, so I scurry toward the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker. About ten minutes later, he enters the kitchen dressed. In his sexy morning voice, he grumbles, “Morning.”

I offer a small, appreciative smile. “Morning. Thanks for staying.”

His eyes take a very obvious fill of my legs in my tiny sleep shorts before he catches himself and nods. “Of course.” He sits down across from me at the small kitchen table. “What will happen today?” he asks.

“I have a meeting in Reagan Daulton’s office in an hour.

She said she’d figure things out overnight and have a plan by the time I arrive.

I have a feeling she’s going to insist on some sort of bodyguard.

I can’t believe it’s gotten to this point.

” My shoulders fall. “I just want to play ball. Knowing that a stranger not only knew my favorite flowers but left them at my front door and told me he liked the purple shirt I wore the other day…” I shiver. “It’s freaky.”

He gives me a compassionate look. “I know it’s tough.

All the other shit that comes with being a successful athlete.

I’ve been through stuff like this before.

I love the fans, and most are amazing, but you come across a crazy one now and then.

I don’t love my condo, but I live there because it’s the most secure building in the city.

I can’t wait to move out of the city to have my own safe, private space. ”

I didn’t know he was moving. “Where are you going?”

“The suburbs. I’m building a house.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more but thinks better of it.

The coffee maker signals that the pot is complete, so I stand and pull out three mugs from the cupboard. “You still take it black?” I ask with my back to him as I pour his.

“I do.” He lets out a quick laugh. “I remember when you wanted to drink coffee like us but hated the taste. You would drown it in that crappy French vanilla shit.”

I open the refrigerator and hold up a big bottle of my French Vanilla Coffee-Mate.

He chuckles. “Some things never change.”

I snap my head toward him and can’t help but blurt out, “Yet in a moment, everything does.”

His small smile immediately fades, and his eyes hold mine. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were filled with unshed tears.

He stands. “I should head out.”

I nod. “I think that’s for the best.”

I pour his coffee in a to-go cup and send him on his way.

An hour later, I’m in Reagan Daulton’s office.

It’s her main business office, not the one at the stadium.

It’s in a huge Center City skyscraper, and she’s on the very top floor.

Her office is bigger than any I’ve ever been in.

She exudes power, wealth, and sophistication in a way I’ve never seen before.

Yet somehow she also conveys sincerity and compassion. I like her. We all do.

She leans back in her chair behind her giant marble desk and blows out a long breath.

“This isn’t good, Sulley. We’ve got an obsessed fan who knows where you live.

It’s probably harmless, but I’m not willing to risk your well-being.

People snap and become unhinged. We can’t allow this to escalate any further.

I know you don’t want a bodyguard, but we at least need to find you an apartment with better security.

I called in a few favors and can get you into a great building. It’s very secure.”

I chew my lip nervously. “Okay. I understand. How much is the rent? And I won’t leave Palmer at our place alone now that whoever the fan is knows the address. She’ll have to come with me.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your rent. It will be for both you and Palmer, of course. The only problem is that they don’t have an apartment available for another month.”

“Okay. Kennedy offered to house us. She has a guestroom.”

She shakes her head. “No. I checked her building. I want you to have top-notch security. One that I know will keep you safe. A simple doorman isn’t enough. We want security officers, codes, cards, the whole works.”

“What are you proposing?” I ask.

Her blue eyes meet mine. “I considered a hotel, but?—”

“Ugh, no.”

“But I think it’s too public. People can walk in and out at will.

Vance McCaffrey called me a little while ago.

I didn’t realize that you two were childhood friends.

He has several extra guest rooms in his condominium.

He lives in a fantastic building, as I’m sure you can imagine.

The best security around. He offered you and Palmer a place to live as long as you need it. ”

I immediately shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

A small smile finds her lips. “He said you’d decline at first and to remind you that between his upcoming travel schedule and yours, you’d barely be there at the same time. I’m sorry to do this, but I need to insist. It’s that or a full-time bodyguard.”

I blow out a breath. I cringe at the thought of my teammates seeing me with a bodyguard. I know it would cause problems. I’m officially stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Sensing my hesitation, she sighs. “I know it’s not ideal. I’ve hired a private investigator. If we can find the culprit, I’ll loosen things up a bit, but for now, please do this. Your safety is everyone’s main concern.”

With a hefty dose of trepidation, Palmer and I move into Vance’s condo that afternoon.

It’s been two weeks since we moved into Vance’s super-modern, smart, voodoo condo. I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not what I would ever expect him to have. I hate it.

You can voice command everything in here from the music to the shower to the lights to the damn toilet seat. It’s ridiculous. I can’t believe Montana cowboy Vance McCaffrey lives here. Finn would laugh his ass off if he saw Vance in this place.

It’s high in the sky with great views. That’s the only part I like. Otherwise, it feels like a museum. I’m afraid to touch anything. It goes to show how much Vance has changed from the boy I once knew. I guess I don’t know Vance McCaffrey like I thought. I suppose I already realized that.

We’ve barely seen him between our travel schedules and a severely ramped-up Camels’ practice schedule heading into the start of their season.

He’s been very hospitable, and we’re trying to be respectful guests.

He’s been thoughtful and filled the house with things he knows I like.

I laughed when I saw the French Vanilla Coffee-Mate in his refrigerator when we arrived.

As kind as he is, I just want this month to come and go with as little interaction as possible. Besides a few awkward conversations in passing, I’ve mostly managed to steer clear of him at his condo, and when our friends hang out, I always position myself away from him and talk to other people.

I often catch him staring at me. I find myself wondering what he’s thinking when he does. He looks so empty. Frequently appearing pained but otherwise a bit stoic. It’s hard to read him at times.

The Camels arrive back in town today after a preseason game last night. We have a game tonight.

It’s late afternoon, and I’m about to leave for the stadium when my phone rings. I see it’s Shane, so accept the call. “Hey, babe.”

“Oh, good, I caught you. Did you see my game tonight?” he asks.

I scrunch my face. He’s going to be pissed. “Sorry. I messed up the time zones. I had a meeting with Tanner this morning. I’ve got this?—”

“Are you fucking for real right now? I told you it was important to me. It was a big game, and my coach was finally giving me a start.”

“I’m sorry, Shane.” I feel terrible. “I’ll watch the replay when I get home tonight from my game. Things are just a little crazy for me right now.”