Page 16 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners (Gridiron Warriors #2)
Alexandra
I don’t sit near the podium today because we don’t want the stalker to focus on me more, but I watch from the side, hidden behind the curtains.
Sitting with Brayden is not only the team’s kicker, Rex Winston, but also the franchise’s owner, Elora Danvers.
She’s an exquisite redhead like I am, but she’s an inch taller.
We’ve joked that we could be sisters, given how close we are in size and coloring, but her eyes are blue, unlike mine.
Elora calls the reporters to attention as they bandy for Bray to answer their questions.
His attorney stands at my side. “You did good with this.”
“I had to make things right.” I don’t explain further; instead gesture to where the press conference is about to begin.
“Hello, and welcome to the Seattle Westerners’ home.
I’d like to correct a false report that was broadcast. This, as most of you know, is Brayden Murray, and this is Rex Winston.
They are similar in build but are two different men.
This picture”—Elora pops up the image that was circulated around the world on a screen behind them—“isn’t Brayden but is instead, Rex Winston.
You can tell because,” she pauses and pulls up an image of Brayden posing for a men’s health magazine next to the first. On display is his back tattoo of wings with a sword, chains, and thorny vines.
It’s the first time I’ve looked at it for longer than a moment.
One side is an angel’s wing and the other a demon’s wing. I need to ask him about it.
“Also, look here on Mr. Murray’s wrist,” Elora continues, and Brayden lifts his wrist with the barbed wire ink encircling it.
“You don’t see either of these markings in the picture.
Mr. Winston doesn’t have those tattoos, and he’s come forward to state that it was him.
These pictures were taken without his permission. ”
Elora says nothing further, and reporters fire off questions. Her eyes flick toward me, but she does not turn my way, so no one realizes I’m there.
When she speaks again, it’s to say, “As for this unidentified woman’s claim that she is pregnant.
We ask that she come forward and have a paternity test done.
Both of my players assert that they are not the father of this child.
Thank you. No questions.” With that, she shuts the crowd down, and those near the podium walk my way behind the curtain.
Brayden wraps his arms around my body the moment he reaches me, and it’s apparent that he’s stressed out being here. I turn and point to Warner, standing off to the side.
“Let’s get out of here and head home,” he offers.
I smile at my man. “Sounds perfect to me.”
With us today are three other bodyguards who work with the same company Warner does. She wanted us to have a full detail, and Brayden insisted it would be safer for me from now on.
Typically, we park our SUV in the stadium’s underground garage, but today, we left the vehicle in the parking lot nearest the exit we planned to use after addressing the press.
As we leave the building, I register motion in my peripheral vision and turn, but Warner shoves me at Brayden, who cocoons my body and lifts me from the ground.
In the scuffle, I hear Warner grunt and a woman yelling and screaming.
“Warner!” A member of the security team shouts her name, and Brayden shifts enough for me to see liquid doused across her back. The material is disintegrating, and a weird, smoke-like mist wafts off of her.
“Shit,” Warner bellows and starts stripping. “Fucking acid!” Her bra and panties are all that remain.
Another guard tosses a shirt at her, and she covers herself while stomping over to the person on the ground. When she rolls over, we can see that her hair is grey, and her body appears older than the woman from the clinic. She’s not as slim either.
“That’s not her,” I tell Brayden, and he agrees.
“Yeah, but she still attacked you.”
“Take the principal home now,” Warner orders, and the guy tips his head at her as we are directed to the car.
I haven’t been to Brayden’s house yet. We stayed at the cabin until this morning before attending the press conference. There was no practice today because of the Labor Day holiday.
Pulling into the Laurelhurst neighborhood, lake houses line one side of the road, while on the other side, lofty mansions overlook the roofs of the ones directly on the lake. We come to a stop in front of a remotely controlled gate.
“Extra security measures have been added to the house that required the homeowners association’s approval. They didn’t like the fence but agreed to it when I used the same materials for the one surrounding my property.”
“This is where you live?”
“Yeah. About six years ago, I decided I didn’t want to stay in condos with my dogs.”
“You have dogs?”
“Three of them.” He smiles, and it reminds me of when I told him we had three babies on the way.
As the gate opens, the grandiose brown and glass house presents itself.
It’s breathtaking, perched directly on the lake.
“Come on.” Brayden opens the car door and helps me out.
He leads me to a rock pathway that follows the land and trees against the house, until it connects to a bridge over the lower ground.
Double glass panels open up into the entry, and picture windows line the far wall, showcasing the lake and Mt. Rainer in the distance.
Three dogs run up to us—all different breeds.
Brayden has always loved animals, especially dogs, so I’m not surprised he has a few of his own.
“Okay, introductions. This is the old man, Alfred.” He points to a fawn and white English Bulldog, who sits in front of me, looking up with wide eyes and his tongue and a tooth sticking out of his mouth.
He’s cute, and I lean down to pet his head.
“This one is our lady, Helena.” He points to a black and white Staffordshire bull terrier.
She’s sweet and leans into me for a pat on her side.
The final dog has been trying to get to me for loving, but Brayden holds him back.
“This wild child, who usually has manners, so I don’t know why he’s being a pill… this is Cujo the cleat destroyer.”
“Oh, my goodness, this baby wouldn’t do that.”
“The hell you say. He ate my cleats from my first year in college.” I remember how superstitious Brayden is about his cleats. This is a big deal.
“Let him go. And I can’t believe you named him that.”
“I didn’t. That’s what the guys on the team call him. His real name is….”
I look up as Bray releases him, but instead of jumping on me, he pushes the other dogs away to get closer. This one is a Boston Terrier.
“Well, what’s his name?” I glance up again, and the little guy presses right up against my leg.
“I got him a year ago when I decided to seriously make a play at getting back together with you. His name is Teal’C.”
I straighten from my bent position and stare Brayden down. “You named him after my favorite character in Star Gate SG1 ?”
“I did. It made it easier to wait until the perfect moment to be with you. I still watch those shows when I can.”
I saunter over to him and pull him in for a kiss. There’s a faint growl, and Teal’C is again next to me.
Brayden stares him down. “She’s mine, asshole.” Then proves it with a hungry kiss.
When we finally separate, he shows me around the house, and I instantly fall in love. Staying here full-time will be a pleasure, and I’m about to relay that when we begin walking through the closet that leads to the primary bathroom. I halt because there, on one wall, are all my clothes.
“Wait, when did you move my stuff in here?”
“While we were at the press conference. You said you’d move in with me.”
I can’t argue with him; I did say that I would, but I also didn’t expect him to move me in without having to pack or finalize things. A part of me is agitated that he made this decision for me, but another isn’t all that upset. That part is glad he took away the worry and stress of it.
In this moment, I opt to allow him control over some things, just not everything. I kiss him fiercely, then pull back and say, “Thank you, but don’t think you can get away with things like this all the time.”
“I understand. I thought it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission.”
I point at him. “And that right there is what you need to work on. Please ask for permission from now on.”
“I’ll try.” He leans in for another kiss when the doorbell goes off. “That would be the police.”
I completely forgot we left the scene of an attack.
A couple of hours of interrogation later, the cops leave. We learned that Warner had been taken to the hospital, but she’s back now, and Brayden has set her up in the small mother-in-law apartment over the garage. She’ll have her own space but remain close by if I need her.