“Gramps,” I say gently, “I’m not a rookie anymore, remember? I’ve been in the league for a while.”More than a decade.
“Ohhh, yeah. I just forgot for a second.” He puts on a good front and nods slowly, but I can see the confusion starting to set in.
“Need me to take him?” I whisper to my mother when we embrace.
“No, honey. Arlo and I will be fine. Home is only about thirty minutes away, and traffic should have cleared out by now.”
“All right. I’ll have my phone on me if you need anything. I’m just having dinner with a teammate.” And his sister, who I happen to be in love with.
When I walk with Ma and Gramps to the exit so I can make sure they get safely to their car, one of the security guards, Barney, stops us.
“Mr. Swain, there are a couple hundred people outside this door, waiting for players to come out. You’ll probably want to go out the players’ exit in the back.”
I rub my forehead in frustration. “This is my mother and grandfather. Her car is in lot two, and I need to make sure they get there okay.”
“Allow me,” the burly man says, shooing me away. “Unless you want to be here all night.”
I do not, in fact, want to be here all night. I generally love greeting fans, but I’ve got a shit-ton on my mind tonight, namely figuring out how the hell I’ve ended up in the same town as the woman I’ve been thinking about constantly.
When he senses my hesitation, Barney pats my arm. “We do this all the time, sir. I’ll personally see that they get to their car safely.”
“We’ll be fine, Reno,” Ma assures.
Barney adds, “If you go to transportation services next week, they can give you a special pass so your family can park in the players’ lot. As you know, it’s gated and under constant guard.”
I thank the man and then hug Ma and Gramps one more time before heading back to the locker room area of the arena.
And back to Juliette.
Chapter 37
Man nipples and blue balls
“Swain,getoverhereand meet my family,” Baylor calls, waving me over with one beefy hand. I see him standing with a group of people outside the players’ lounge, but Juliette is like a beacon, drawing me nearer with each glance.
Baylor introduces me to his wife, who is not, in fact, Juliette McNamara. Holly has dark skin, short curly hair, and lively hazel eyes. Then I meet his fathers, Isaac and Emmett.
“It’s a long story,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll tell you later.”
I nod like I don’t already know the story of why he has two dads, my eyes constantly flitting to Juliette without being obvious. She seems to be doing the same, looking at me and then jerking her eyes away. But when our eyes do meet, I can read the warning in her gaze.Don’t tell.
Isaac Ward, Baylor’s biological dad, has skin about two shades darker than his son, and his brown eyes look out from round, wire-rimmed frames. He looks every bit the wise professor of English Literature he is.
Emmett McNamara, on the other hand, is lighter complected, though he has the tan of a man who works outdoors a lot. His hands are rough when we shake, and I remember that Juliette told me he’s a mechanic.
Both fathers are proudly wearing their Baylor Ward jerseys. The entire family is, in fact. The two youngest siblings, both college-aged, step forward and accept my handshakes.
Xander gushes for a minute about the improvement of the defense as compared to last season, and I like the kid. He’s got dark-brown hair and eyes that are slightly bluer than Juliette’s aqua ones.
Jordan, or Jordie as her family calls her, is almost the exact replica of the woman I’m trying not to gawk at constantly. Though of course Jordie’s only twenty, sixteen years younger than her sister, so she has a bit more of a baby face.
“And this is Juliette, the old lady of the family,” Baylor tells me, hooking an arm around Juliette’s neck and rubbing his knuckles across the top of her head in the age-old display of brotherly assholeness. But I can tell it’s done with the utmost of affection. As is her soft elbow to his gut.
“Get off me, butthead,” she scolds, and my knees almost buckle at the sound of her voice. Dammit to hell, I’ve missed hearing her talk. And smile. And sing stupid karaoke songs. And writhe beneath me while I fuck her into the mattress.
Great. Now I’m popping a boner at the most inopportune fucking time ever.
She’s removed the beanie, and tiny strands of loose, fuzzy hair shine in the overhead light of the hallway as she attempts to smooth it down. Though I prefer her looking a little messy. It reminds me of her post-coital appearance, ruffled and flushed after I handled her roughly from behind, one of my hands fisted in those golden locks.
