Page 5 of Rushing Into Love

An article about his shoulder injury, sustained during game eight of his sixth season with Dallas. Separated shoulder, requiring multiple surgeries. He sat the bench the rest of the season, then was cut from the team.

Then it looked like his life pretty much fell apart. Domestic abuse charges filed, but he was later cleared of all charges. Divorce looming, nasty custody battle.

From what I read, it seemed like Ryder had full custody and the articles alleged possible substance abuse by Shayna. I zoomed in on every photo of her. She was pretty. Very Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. Chesty. Dark, straight hair, wide smile, curvy in all the right places. Perfect abs.Just like me, I thought wryly. Dumb to even compare myself, we were nothing alike. She was taller than me, curvier than me, definitely bustier than me. I had long, blondish hair with a slight wave, her hair was stick straight, and in most photos she had bangs.

It seemed like she was in it for the money. As soon as Ryder got cut from the team, she started the separation proceedings, which led to the divorce.Bad situation for his kid, I thought.

Just for fun, I did a quick Google search on Shayna McCauliffe. The same articles popped up, plus her LinkedIn page, describing her as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader/Lifestyle Expert. Interesting plot twist, considering the drug allegations. There was an article about her dating one of the League owners, as well as the Defensive Coordinator. The girl got around, and she definitely had a type. Rich, with athletic being a bonus.

There was only the one mention of their son, Charlie, in the article about his birth. None of the Shayna articles mentioned the child at all and there were zero photos of him. Seemed like Ryder did his best keeping his private life private. I respected that. It was one of my (many) issues with Pax.

“Aunt Bee! Aunt Bee!” Across the field, Alexa jumped up and down, waving me over.

“Coming!” I waved back to her and bounced off the bleachers, taking the steps as quickly as I could. Most of the other moms were already gathered around Ryder, hanging on his every word. I hoped whatever he was saying wasn’t critical; I wanted to make sure I got all the information for Brooks. She’d get an email about it, though, right?

Just as I was closing in on our team’s huddle, a sharp pain hit me in my left knee. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the soft grass, staring up at the blue sky.Hmmm, very few clouds today…

“Are you alright?”

I blinked several times; I wasn’t sure if the blurriness was from the sun beaming directly into my eyes or from the blow to the back of my head. Eventually, Ryder’s eyes came into focus, tiny wrinkles of concern forming around them.Cute…

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” I tried to sit up, but Ryder put his hand on my shoulder, gently keeping me still.

“Wait a few seconds. Trust me on this, lots of experience getting tackled.” He winked and my cheeks flushed crimson.

“K,” I murmured. “Um, what happened? Did I really get tackled?”

“Yeah. A nine-year-old laid you out. Not sure you’re gonna make the first-round draft picks this year. You may need a little more work on your game,” he chuckled, guiding me up by my elbow.

“How’s that feel? Are you dizzy at all?” He gazed deep into my eyes, trying to gauge my concussion risk, I supposed.

“Aunt Bee, are you okay?” Alexa stood by my side, furrows creasing her brow.

“No, not dizzy. I’m fine. I’ll be okay, Alexa.” I waved my hands to brush off their concern and demonstrate my fineness. I bent my knees to try to stand and involuntarily let out a tiny whimper. “Ouch,” I whispered under my breath.

“Let me take a look, I’m a physical therapist by day.” He poked and prodded my knee, bending it this way and that. “You’re going to need to ice that when you get home. That will minimize the swelling.”

“Swelling?” I asked in a panicky voice.

“Yeah. That kid ran straight into your knee.” He pointed to the side of my left kneecap. “You’ll probably be okay, but it’s going to bruise and you could have a microtear. Why don’t you come into the clinic tomorrow and I’ll take a closer look, reassess the situation?” Ryder tilted his head, waiting for my response.

“I’ll be fine.” I waved my hand again, brushing off his concern.

“I insist. Plus, I have a knee brace, or at the very least, a wrap to decrease swelling.” He touched the side of my knee to demonstrate the wrapping motion and a tingle ran up my leg. That was a good sign, no numbness or loss of feeling. And clearly my libido hadn’t sustained any injury.

“Okay, I’ll come in,” I said.

“Great. I’ll give you my card and you can drop in around lunchtime. We’re usually pretty slow then.”

“Cool. I mean, great, thanks.” I blushed, stumbling over my words. Maybe I did have a slight concussion.

Some of the other moms were shooting me dirty looks, like I’d ruined practice, and the kids were getting rowdy since the coach wasn’t looking.

“You better get back.” I nodded my head towards the group.

“Let me help you up.” Deftly, Ryder leaned in and scooped me up, wrapping one of his arms around my waist and putting almost all my bodyweight onto his strong shoulders. The kids cheered; several of the blonde moms rolled their eyes.So much for good sportsmanship, I thought.

He gave them a wave with his right hand and together we limped to my rental car, Alexa trotting behind. My close proximity to Ryder helped block out the shooting pain in my knee. He smelled fantastic, crisp and clean, despite having run practice in eighty-five-degree weather. I’d been right about his hands—they were large and strong, supporting me at my waist. His pec muscles were straining underneath his shirt, yet he moved effortlessly through the parking lot, as if I weighed nothing. I tried not to swoon.

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