Dirty Game: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  Jojo had worked at the post office when I was growing up. My aunt would stop by every afternoon and they talked. I never paid attention. For the first time I wished I had. I had absolutely nothing to say to this woman.

  “It’s good.” I smiled. “Busy.”

  Shirley tugged on me. “Everyone’s glad you’re here.”

  “Yes, it is nice to have a little social activity for once this summer.”

  Jojo laughed. “Now that you know Shirley Lane, your social life will never be dull again.” She took a sip of beer. “Shirley, don’t you think there are a few more people we could introduce her to?”

  I thought I caught a conspiratorial wink exchanged between the island women.

  “Yep. Yep. I’m headed to get her some drinks right now.” She turned toward me, leading me away from Jojo and to the boats pulled ashore.

  Three skiffs dotted the ebbing beach beyond the fire pit. The sterns were lapped by incoming waves, and the bows were pulled high onto the shore.

  “Sierra, I’m right behind you. I forgot to tell Henry where to stash the ice cream. Help yourself to whatever you’d like.” She pointed to the boat lineup. “I’ll be right back.” Turning on her heels, she scampered off to find Henry.

  Why were all of the drinks on the boat? This was ridiculous. I continued the search for drinks. I wondered if there was anything other than beer. Just one drink and I was out of here.

  “Blake, catch!” A deep voice called out from the farthest boat just as I was knocked to the ground by a figure running backward. All I could make out were outstretched arms and an airborne can of Bud Light.

  “Score!” the receiver yelled, holding his beer can in the air and flashing a smile after his twenty-yard reception.

  “Hey! Not so fast with your victory dance, quarterback.” I fumed from the sand.

  An islander spun around, casting a shadow across my face.

  “Let me help you up. I’m really sorry.” He extended a hand.

  Brushing the sand from my legs and assessing the damage, I pulled myself up.

  “Sorry?” Who in the hell knocks a girl down like that?

  I realized that, other than a little wet sand stuck to my favorite shorts, I was fine. But I wasn’t about to let my cocky assailant know that. I was ready to launch into a verbal tirade on why he should have been paying more attention, when I looked up and lost my words.

  I took in the muscular six two frame topped with sandy hair. I had only seen eyes that color once before. They were a grey-green I couldn’t forget. They were sexy bedroom eyes that threw every good comeback I had out the window.

  “Blake?” I sputtered, finding my voice.

  He threw everything out the window. Holy shit.

  4

  Blake

  Fuck.

  “Sierra.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her eyes seemed to light with as much fire as I had running under my veins.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  I had plowed her down. Run her into the sand as if she were a lineman on a Sunday afternoon. She didn’t want my help dusting off the sand.

  “My aunt died. I’m cleaning out her house,” she explained. She pinched her plump lips together. Those fucking lips.

  “Right.” Fuck. Why was it I couldn’t think about anything except the last time I saw her?

  She took me right back to high school. To college. To a time when I gave two fucks about what a girl thought.

  Cole ran up behind me. “Why if it isn’t Sierra Emory.” He pulled her into a resistant hug. She looked over his shoulder at me.

  “Hi. Cole.”

  “It’s like a damn high school reunion around here.” He grinned. He was already drunk.

  “I guess so.”

  “Is this your boat, Cole?” Sierra asked.

  “Nah, she’s Blake’s. He built her himself,” Cole said, as I turned up the music.

  “Really? You built this?” Sierra looked surprised.

  I hopped on the boat and strolled to the lineup of coolers.

  I leaned back in the captain’s chair, propping my feet next to the steering wheel. “Really.”

  “Sorry, my cousin’s such an ass and a bad receiver. That was a perfect throw,” Cole quipped, smiling at Sierra.

  “You’re crazy.” I glared. “I caught that pass by the way. Which is pretty fucking amazing considering I’m the one who usually throws it.”

  “No one around here gives a shit,” Cole shot back.

  I grinned. It was why I loved it. But now Sierra was here and suddenly it didn’t seem the same. She shouldn’t be here. My boat was anchored on shore, but I felt as if it were rocking with some new kind of current.

  “Don’t want your head getting too big,” I egged him on.

  “It was good to see you both.” Sierra stepped back. “But I think Shirley wanted me to see some other people.” I wasn’t surprised she was trying to run. Typical.

  “Hey, come on. Why don’t you cruise with us?” Cole asked. “Like we used to do.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It will be like old times.”

  I retrieved my legs from their propped position. “Man, I didn’t know we were planning a cruise tonight. It’s going to be crowded out there with everyone trying to drop anchor to watch the fireworks.”

  I sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell Cole I cared if Sierra was out on the water with us, but I’d be damned if I would just invite her back into my island life.

  Cole shot a look over his shoulder to the Shirley Lane party, and Sierra followed his gaze. Henry was parading around the corn hole players with Shirley perched on his shoulders. She was screaming all the words to the pirate tune blaring across the beach. Things at Shirley Lane were getting rowdy. Drunk rowdy.

  “It’s either this or we cruise.” Cole shrugged his shoulders at me. “It’s up to you—your boat.”

  “All right. Let’s pull anchor. Come on.” He made his way to the bow of the boat and started working the anchor free from the sand.

  “I’m going to shove us off,” Cole offered.

  Sierra hadn’t moved.

  “If you don’t want to ride, just stay here, darlin’,” I called over the low rumble of the diesel engine.

  I didn’t need her on my boat. I didn’t need her on my island. I wasn’t going out of my way to make her comfortable.

  “I’m going.” She jogged forward and Cole helped her across the bow.

  Fuck. Now what?

  5

  Sierra

  I glanced back over my shoulder at Blake and Cole. I had settled at the bow of the boat. The wind whipped through my hair as Blake steered us around the island.

  Cole was laughing at something Blake had said, but I couldn’t hear what the guys were discussing over the muffled sounds of the wind.

  I don’t know why I decided to jump on board. It was stupid and rash. I didn’t want Blake to know it bothered me. I wanted to act like things were fine. Normal. I could handle it.

  But on the inside I was dying. Falling apart. Shaking from the look in his eye. The anger in his voice. What in the hell was I doing here?

  I tried to catch my hair in a fist. It was blowing all around my face.

  I edged off the bow and attempted to stand. Before I was completely upright, the boat slowed to a crawling pace.

  “Be careful up there,” Blake called. “I don’t want my passengers going overboard.” But there was no concern in his voice. It was a definite warning not to screw with his night.

  With the boat almost still, Cole walked toward me. “You need something? Out of beer?”

  “Uh, no, just wondering if you could tell me where we are.” I looked away from Cole, and motioned toward the water. I used to know every part of the sound. All the creeks. Now it was practically foreign.

  I was turned around and couldn’t get my bearings.

  “Why don’t you sit with Blake? He knows the island better than anyone.”

  I didn’t know if tha
t would make the shaking stop or make it worse. Why did seeing Blake Wyatt after all these years do this to me?

  Sure I’d seen him on TV. It was hard not to. He was the biggest thing to ever come off this island. He was one of the AFA’s biggest stars. And he was my ex.

  The guy I never stopped thinking about. The one who haunted me. The one who made it impossible to let another guy near me. Damn it. Why was I on his boat?

  I stood and balanced myself before taking a step toward the stern. I had to prove to myself and to the guys that I could be casual about this. What happened all those years ago didn’t matter anymore. I had accepted our fate.

  Blake and I weren’t meant to be. He was successful and famous. I was living my dream in Dallas. We were never going to be right for each other.

  “Can I sit here?” I pointed to the seat Cole had vacated next to Blake.

  “Go ahead.” Blake sipped from his beer and cut the engine to an idle. “We can slow it down in these calm waters. No danger of hitting sandbars tonight.”

  I lowered myself onto the narrow bench next to him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, concentrating on the channel markers. As he clutched the steering wheel with one hand, I noticed the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement.

  “That’s good.”

  This was fucking awkward.

  “I can just drop you off. Cole’s drunk. This was his idea. Not mine.”

  I saw his cousin propped against the bow. His eyes were closed.

  “I’m fine.” I felt as if I had to say it aloud. He needed to hear it. I needed to hear it. It was a complete lie.

  “Sure you are. Always fucking fine,” he grumbled.

  I stiffened next to him. Maybe I just needed to get off this boat.

  “Hey, what was that old story you used to tell?” I asked. I recognized where we were for once. “Was it the swimmer something?”

  “Fuck, Sierra. You don’t remember? Seriously?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “I could tell you, but I wouldn’t want to scare you.”

  “You can’t scare me,” I taunted.

  “You sure about that?” Blake smiled. It was sexy and smoldering. Enough to make me shiver.

  He eased closer and rested his arm on the ledge above my shoulders. The breeze swirled through my hair, and I wondered if he could smell my shampoo, because I was drinking in every ounce of him—even though I tried not to.

  “Try me.” I turned toward him, fully aware that his arm was almost touching me. Almost.

  “See that light out there.” He pointed to a faint flashing yellow light in the distance.

  “Of course,” I responded. It was as clear as any of the other markers dotting the dark waters.

  He pivoted toward me. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t take us to it. As soon as we head toward it, it will move.”

  My eyes grew big. “Oh wait. I think I remember that story.”

  I never believed in ghost stories or legends. “It’s not real, Blake.”

  “It’s real. The way my dad told it, a sailor was stranded on the shoals after a shipwreck about a hundred years ago. He was able to get out of the ship with a lantern and tried to swim to shore, but the currents out here are unpredictable and he never made it to land. The next day, they found his lantern, but never the body.”

  I shivered and inadvertently scooted closer to Blake.

  He continued with the tale. “So, the legend goes that the blinking yellow light is him still trying to swim to shore, but no one can ever catch up to it because of the currents.”

  “Holy shit. It’s still the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ok, maybe I was a little scared. I had forgotten all of the tragic stories from the ocean.

  “You want me to show you?” Blake placed his hand on the gearshift, ready to maneuver the boat toward the lantern’s light.

  “Definitely.”

  He laughed and gave me a killer smile that made me glad I’d boarded his boat.

  “Hey, Cole.” He called up front, but his cousin was busy sleeping off his beers.

  I lightly bit at my lower lip. Something about the way Blake took command of the boat as he stood and steered toward the golden light without reservation made me look at him the way I used to. It was kind of hot.

  “Almost there,” he shouted over the wind.

  I peered over the console, trying to keep my eyes on the target. The closer we got, the weaker the color was. I squinted harder as Blake slowed the boat.

  “Where did it go? It should be here.” I stood, looking over the side of the boat.

  “Over there.” Blake pointed three hundred yards east.

  Blake reached down and let his hand rest on my shoulder. “I think that’s enough ghost hunting for one night. What do you say I take you home?”

  Surprised by the heat that stemmed from my shoulder, I smiled. “Sounds good.”

  “Hold on up there!” Blake shouted before throwing the boat into full gear and pointing it toward Aunt Lindy’s pier.

  6

  Blake

  I dropped Sierra off on her aunt’s pier and didn’t even look over my shoulder. I wasn’t supposed to care if she made it inside the house, or if she even fell over into the dark waters.

  It was stupid relieving old high school pranks about ghost stories and shit that was from the past.

  I chugged the last of my beer and steered us back. Cole could wake up in the morning to a neck full of mosquito bites. I left him snoring on the bow and hopped off.

  I didn’t know if I could shake it. If I could pretend she wasn’t here. I drove home with fireworks exploding overhead.

  My palm slammed into the steering wheel. My summer was fucked. The peace I needed off the field to be the warrior I needed to be on the field was fucked. The last shred of solitude I had found in my life was fucked because Sierra Emory had decided to come home.

  It didn’t matter she hadn’t been seen here in eight years. She never visited her aunt. I heard she didn’t even make the funeral.

  And now what? She thought she could parade that tight ass into one of Shirley’s parties and all would be forgiven?

  No one around here cared she was some kind of hot as shit reporter in Dallas. Money didn’t impress islanders. Neither did fame. Hard work did. Loyalty. Family. She’d fucked all that up.

  And it was time someone told her she didn’t belong on this island.

  I drove deeper through the winding streets until I parked outside of the two-story Victorian house.

  It had been in Sierra’s family for over a hundred years. The islanders said Aunt Lindy’s father was crazy when he built it. They said it wouldn’t withstand a hurricane or even a nor’easter, but here it was, still standing.

  I glared at the white siding and the drain pipe next to the upstairs bedroom. I’d helped Sierra sneak out more than once using the metal as a ladder.

  I slammed the truck door, marching up the back stairs. They creaked under my weight.

  “Sierra!” I pounded on the door. “Sierra. Open up.”

  I heard the lock rattle and then she appeared on the other side of the screen. Her face glistened with tears.

  What the fuck?

  “What are you doing here?” She wiped at her cheeks with her fingertips.

  “Why are you crying?” My shoulders were tense. My neck strained. I had walked up here with a mission to put her straight.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Stupid nostalgia I guess.”

  “Nostalgia, huh?” I crossed my arms. It was fucking ironic is what it was.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you banging on the door?”

  “I thought we needed to get a few things straight.”

  “Like what?”

  “Are you going to let me in?” The screen door was a barrier between us.

  Her hand rested on the latch and suddenly the door was open and I was inside the old house.

  There were boxes everywhere. Half the furniture was covere
d in sheets.

  The place was depressing.

  There was a light on in the kitchen. Sierra leaned against the wooden countertop. “What is it? Did you show up to tell me more ghost stories? Because believe me, I have enough to last the rest of my life.”

  “No. No ghost stories. But seeing you is like living one.”

  “Ouch.” She lowered her eyes. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  The anger flowed through my blood like hot lava. Did she have any idea what she’d done to me? Did she know what she’d cost me?

  “Too long.” I clenched my teeth.

  “Now that you’ve said it,” her pale blue eyes lifted to mine, “you can go, Blake.”

  “You can’t throw me out.”

  “Yes, I can. It might have been nice for two seconds to cruise around the island and hang out with Cole, but clearly that’s not going to work between us.”

  “No. It’s not.” I took a step toward her. The light behind her cast her into a dark shadow, but I could still see the tears glistening on her cheeks.

  “So leave then. Let me be miserable on my own. Can’t you do that?”

  I stopped in front of her and inhaled the air around us. I could smell her perfume. Her shampoo. I could almost taste the strawberry lip gloss that she’d used to wear on her lips.

  “I’m not going until I’ve said what I have to say,” I growled.

  Her eyes flared. “Then say it and get out.”

  My hand snaked around her waist, pulling her toward me. In an instant my lips crashed into hers as she threw her arms around my neck. The kiss was hot and fiery. Enough to make my cock throb. My tongue found hers twisting and sliding in a rhythm that was at the same time new and familiar.

  I tugged her hair through my hands, deepening the contact until I heard that perfect little purr she made. The one I’d never forgotten. The one that haunted me like a damn siren’s song.

  My blood raged with heat. My cock throbbed. My hands coasted over her body. And then I realized I had a chance to fuck Sierra Emory again and everything went black.