Page 9

9

JAMIE

I’ve been trying to get Jaxon out of my house for thirty-five minutes. For a guy who claims to hate personal contact outside of football, he’s certainly hanging out with me a lot. Sprawled out on my couch with his legs spread wide, he looks like he’s planning on camping out there for another few hours at least.

It’s not happening. Not today of all days.

After waiting a week, my beautiful bandit finally reached out to me yesterday. It was only a request to meet up, but a win is a win in my mind. I’ve got the confidence to know that I’ll be able to convince her to agree to my proposal by the end of our conversation.

“I have plans, Jax. You can leave any minute now,” I say.

“What plans?”

Walking up behind the couch, I grab a chunk of his hair and reef on it. When he tosses his head back to glare at me, I point toward the door.

“The kind that don’t involve your snoopy ass.”

“I thought we were best friends.”

I brace my hand on the back of the couch and jump over it before bouncing onto the cushion beside him. With a kick of my foot, I have his leg pushed away from where he had it spread-eagle.

“You are, and that means when I tell you to leave because I have plans, you should listen.”

“I want to know what you were talking to Graham and Coach about in the exec office first. You’ve been oddly zip-lipped all week.”

“What do you mean oddly? As if I’m such a blabbermouth.”

He rolls the back of his head along the couch, brow lifted in question. “Fuck off. Just tell me what happened, and then I’ll leave you to your plans .”

“Why are you saying ‘plans’ like that? I really do have plans.”

“Plans with your hand don’t count as plans.”

“Stop saying plans so much. Christ, it’s giving me the shivers.”

His laugh is low, almost rough-sounding. “Only if you tell me what happened the other day.”

I groan, folding my hands behind my head and letting my elbows bang into his cheek before he grumpily shifts over. “They needed help with something for the team.”

“Okay, and?”

“And that’s all. Now, get your ass up off the couch. I’ll walk you out.”

“You’re joking me, Bateman,” he says, not moving an inch.

While I’m pretty strong, I don’t know if I’ll be able to lift the goliath that is Jaxon Hayes and carry him through my house. I may have more bulk, but he’s got a few inches on me.

“You’ve gotta keep your mouth shut about this, Jax. It’s not public knowledge, and if it ever gets that way, the entire organization is in deep shit,” I warn.

His expression sobers as he leans forward, completely zoned in. “What’s going on?”

I explain it with as little detail as possible, making sure to keep Blakeley’s name out of it for now. Until I get a for sure answer from her, I’m keeping her part in this close to my chest.

Jaxon is pacing on the carpet by the time I finish. “You believe that’ll work?”

“I’ve got no other choice than to believe it.”

“I knew shit was bad, but I didn’t think it was this bad. You’re going to get married for the team? For real?”

“Is it that surprising?”

He scratches his jaw. “Don’t you want to get married for real someday? To someone you love?”

“Well, yeah. But I didn’t expect it to happen for a while yet. I’ve got the time to find something real after this is over and done with. Why? Is that something you’re focused on in your life?”

I can’t tell whether his scoff is from annoyance or a way to cover his embarrassment. Either way, I’m not going to push to find out.

“No. I just thought that you’d care about that.”

“’Cause I’m so romantic?”

“You’re the most stand-up guy I know. Figured love would be on your to-do list.”

“The only things on my to-do list right now are to find a wife before Graham finds me some stranger ready to fill the position and to bring the Grey Cup home.”

“So far, you’re oh for two.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“I guess I should leave now before you attempt to toss me over your shoulder and injure the both of us,” he mutters.

I clap. “Finally, you’re getting it. I’ll even walk you out.”

“With your outstanding manners, finding a wife should be a walk in the park.”

Leading him back through my living room toward the front door, I sneak a look at the Xbox beneath the TV. I haven’t used it since I found Blakely yanking at the cords, almost like I didn’t want to replace her fingerprints with mine .

Okay, that was a creepy way of phrasing that.

I’ll be keeping that one to myself when she gets here tonight.

“Thanks, buddy,” I say, giving him a smack on the back.

He slips his sneakers on and steps onto the porch, throwing me one last look. “Enjoy your plans tonight. Don’t stay up too late. Gotta be at the stadium early.”

“Game day. Yeah, I’ll make sure I’m tucked in early, Dad.”

“Good. We need to keep the momentum up. The last two wins have taken some of the pressure off, and I’m enjoying it. Coach didn’t chew my ear off last week, so I made it home before midnight.”

Two back-to-back wins isn’t usually much to celebrate. However, with any team as . . . weak as ours, we take what we can get and use it to grow the confidence of the newer players. The last time we were close to clinching a third win in a row, Jax threw a party at his place that grew wild enough to summon the cops. We were up into the early morning getting reamed out by Coach and lost our next game.

I’m going to take a shot in the dark and assume that’s why he hasn’t decided to do it again.

“I’ll do my best, QB. You know I’ve got you,” I remind him.

He tips his chin and knocks his knuckles on the doorframe. “Yeah, I know it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

With a backward wave, he cuts across my grass to where the flashy McLaren sits on the driveway like a trophy on the wrong shelf. The guy chooses to live in a shack in the mountains but drives a luxury sports car, whereas I’m the opposite.

He unlocks it and goes to open the driver’s door when he pauses. I hover in the entry and try to make out the figure strolling up past my driveway.

Jaxon doesn’t hide his staring, and once I see the flash of chestnut hair beneath a deep purple beanie, I lurch forward a step .

“Get in your car, Jaxon!” I holler.

His smirk is positively wicked when he looks at me while popping open his door. “See you tomorrow, Bateman!”

Blakely heads up my sidewalk at a slow pace with her head cocked, watching him leave. Only when he’s out of the driveway and speeding down the street does she look in my direction.

“A friend of yours?” she asks.

I’m too busy staring at her to reply.

I’ve never been one to wear beanies, but one look at her in one and you can consider me a big fan. Somehow, it fits her perfectly and highlights the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

In a pair of jeans and a thin coat bulging at the pockets from where she has her hands tucked away, she lingers at the bottom of the porch steps.

“A friend and a teammate. That was Jaxon Hayes, the Pythons’ quarterback,” I explain.

Only a slight glimmer of recognition sparks in her eyes. “Right. The name sounds familiar.”

“You’ll need football lessons if you agree to be my wife,” I tease, testing her reaction.

I need to know how hard it’s going to be to convince her, after all.

She swallows and leans past my bicep to see into the house. “Are you going to ask me to come in, or are we having this conversation on your front porch?”

“Shit, right. Come in. I promise I’m not usually a bad host.”

I move out of the way, and she passes me with a whole lot of confidence. While she slips out of her shoes, I close the door.

“Do you remember the way to the living room?”

She blinks up at me, unimpressed with the question. “No. I wasn’t exactly memorizing the layout of your house when I was here last.”

“Feel free to do that this time. You know, for when you move in. ”

“Let’s go to the kitchen. Do you have a dining table or somewhere we can sit and talk properly?”

I roll my lips and leave the teasing for another time. “Yeah, follow me.”

As the silence grows, I start wishing I’d put some music on or something.

“Did you have a good week?” I ask gently, stepping into the dining room and automatically pulling a seat out for her.

She eyes the chair and then me, almost like she doesn’t understand why I’d do that for her. After a few seconds, she takes it, sitting stiffly.

“Do you want the honest answer or the pretty one?”

Playing it safe, I choose the seat across from her. “Always the honest one.”

“My week was terrible.”

“What can I do to help?”

She blinks slowly, shifting as if I’ve made her uncomfortable with my question. “You know why I’m here, Jamie. There’s no need for the whole caring act.”

“It’s not an act, and I don’t know the specifics of why you’re here. You could have planned to rob me a second time and just needed an in.”

“I think we’ve already established that I’m a pretty shitty burglar. My criminal days are behind me.”

Propping an elbow on the table, I rest my chin on my knuckles. “While we’re on the topic of criminal activity, I’ve been wondering how you got past the gate outside. You’ve done it twice now.”

“The one at the end of the road? It was open.”

“Both times?”

She jostles a shoulder. “Yes.”

“Oh, boy, my mom will have a total fit if she finds out about that,” I mutter.

“She’s protective? ”

My smile is instant at the mention of her. “Yeah, you could say that. Maybe more dramatic than protective, though.”

“You sound close.” It’s a blunt answer. Closed off.

I lean forward in my chair and search her face for the reaction she’s trying to hide but fail to distinguish it. She’s too good at pretending not to care.

Why? What happened to make her so closed off?

I’m too stubborn to let it go, promising myself to find the answers to my questions.

“Are you close with your mother?” I ask.

“No, I’m not. She’s been out of my life for a while now.” She grits her teeth and glares down at the table. “If I agreed to marry you, I would move in here, right?”

Straight to business, then.

“I think that would be best. Obviously, you’d have your own room. There are four, so you can choose whichever one you want. My home gym is in the basement, and the backyard has a pool.”

“I wouldn’t have to sleep in your room?”

“Absolutely not. I’d never make you do that,” I answer honestly.

She plays with the sleeve of her jacket, avoiding my eyes. “I mentioned before that I have a brother. He’s fifteen. Sixteen in four months. If I moved in, he would need to come with me.”

I bite my tongue when questions load themselves on it. I’ve got to watch myself with Blakely. At least right now. She’s like a deer hiding in the trees, knowing a hunter is on her tail. One snap of a twig and she’ll be gone.

If I ask one wrong question, I can forget about her being my wife.

With a half smile, I say, “That’s fine. I have the space.”

“Nathan’s a good kid, I swear. He’s incredibly smart and doesn’t stay out late or party. Football keeps him busy, so you probably won’t even notice he’s here,” she rambles, twisting the sleeve of her jacket tighter in a move I’m starting to assume means she’s nervous.

I file away the football information for a later time.

“Hey, you don’t have to convince me. If you say he’s a good kid, then I’ll choose to believe you. I’m asking a lot from you here. The least I can do is let your brother have a place to stay. What else do you need from me?”

Pain travels across her features, and I scoot my chair closer to the table on instinct. She doesn’t notice.

“I’m between jobs right now, so I can’t exactly help with the mortgage or anything. If you make a tab for me while we’re staying here, I’ll make sure to pay you back once I find something.”

“Not happening. You don’t pay a damn dime the entire time you’re my wife, Blakely. That’s one of my rules. I’ve got the mortgage, the groceries. Hell, you can drive one of my cars anytime you need to leave. Just let me know what bills you have, and I’ll make sure they’re taken care of while you’re here,” I say, almost offended that she thought for even half a second that she’d need to pay me back for anything.

Almost , because like she told me before, she’s just not the type of person to take handouts. And while that isn’t what this is, I can understand why she’d connect those dots.

“I’m not a charity case. I might not have the money now, but I will eventually,” she presses.

“If you want to collect a pay Jamie back stash , go for it. But just know that I won’t take a single cent of it come divorce time. My wife won’t pay for anything essential. Providing for you is my job, and it’s what I want to do.”

“This isn’t the 1800s. Women can provide for their families nowadays.”

A smirk curls my lips. “My woman won’t need to provide for me. I have more money than I know what to do with, and it will only continue to grow as long as I’m playing football. You want to go out and buy yourself a new pair of shoes? Use your own money or use mine. But when it comes to the roof over your head and the food in the fridge, that’s on me, Bandit.”

Her cheeks flush. “I’m not your woman. Not for real.”

“Maybe not. But every time we leave this house, I’ll be treating you like it. If you agree to marrying me, of course.”

When she releases a loose exhale, I know there’s a real chance of her saying yes. And that . . . that’s the most exciting thing to happen to me in a really long time.