Romancing the Kicker

  Table Of Contents

  Other Books by Catherine Lane

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  About Catherine Lane

  Other Books from Ylva Publishing

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  www.ylva-publishing.com

  Other Books by Catherine Lane

  Tread Lightly

  Heartwood

  The Set Piece

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you: Tina Minns for answering all my athletic trainer questions so quickly and even sending me a video that inspired the stretching scene between Parker and Carly.

  My wonderful beta readers Ann Etter, Boz, and Danielle Zion. To Anne, Becky, Mary, and Claire for their last-minute help.

  Celeste Castro for jumping in repeatedly when I needed her. And Susan X Meagher, who somehow keeps me grounded and encourages me to soar as a writer all at the same time.

  Thank you: Astrid Ohletz and the amazing team at Ylva for the wonderful cover and so much more.

  And then, Sandra Gerth. As usual, words just aren’t enough. Thank you so very much for taking me on this journey to “better than fine.” Although I know we still have a long way to go, I am so lucky to walk down the path with you.

  And, of course, my wife. She inspired Parker’s love of movement and countless other things in my life.

  For every young girl who’s kicked a ball around a field and dreamed of more.

  Chapter 1

  Parker Sherbourne woke up in a strange bed with two pillows pressed into her upper back. For a second, she didn’t know where she was. She took in the plush mattress, the freshly cut flowers on the bedside table, and finally, the Eiffel Tower framed in the huge picture window. The monument’s golden lights threw a romantic glow into the luxury hotel room.

  Of course.

  She knew exactly where she was.

  Sin City—the Las Vegas Strip. Over five thousand miles away from the real city of lights, the tower across the street was only half the size of the original in Paris. Parker sighed deeply. This one shone silly and fake, like a teenager who had raided her mother’s closet for more grown-up clothes.

  Today, she would try out as a point-after-touchdown kicker for the High Rollers—the NFL expansion team that had landed in Las Vegas when the deal from California had fallen apart. Then she would be the outsider. Did a woman, even if she could kick the stuffing out of any ball, really have a chance at the most macho sport on the planet? This whole thing was a publicity stunt at best and a fool’s errand at worst. No one in the game was ready for a woman—and an out lesbian at that—to suit up in the NFL…no one but her.

  Parker scooted over to the bedside table and fumbled for her phone and the time—almost three in the morning. The pillows at her back traveled with her.

  Wait. They weren’t pillows.

  Rolling over, Parker fell into breasts so perky and full that a girl could get lost in them. Tanya, her shiny new agent with Gridiron Sports Management. She had jumped on Parker when the Rollers had started sniffing around. Not literally, of course…until last night.

  Parker bit her lip. She could have sworn that Tanya had gotten up to leave after their bump-and-run activities, but the nipple resting on her cheek clearly said otherwise.

  Tanya stirred, and the nipple slipped closer to her mouth. Parker resisted the urge to wrap her lips around it…again. Sex with Tanya had been fun, but Parker had only asked Tanya in for one reason: to unwind. She always played better on the field when something, or usually someone, had drained her nervous energy the night before.

  Parker slid a hand under Tanya’s shapely behind and tried to ease her to the other side of the bed without waking her up. She needed her sleep, and she always slept best with no one crowding her.

  Just as she maneuvered Tanya far enough away, Tanya’s eyes fluttered open. A hungry smile lit up her face. “Hi, there.”

  “Hi, yourself.” Parker pushed the words out. The last thing she wanted was to talk.

  “You made the touchdown last night.” Tanya scooted back and up, raising her mouth to Parker’s. “Don’t you want to try for the point after?” Apparently, talking was the last thing Tanya wanted as well.

  “Look.” Parker slid back to the edge of the bed. “That’s very tempting. It really is. But I need to get some more sleep. You know, be ready for today and all.”

  Tanya’s gaze clouded over. Instantly, she was the very picture of professionalism. “Don’t worry. I don’t U-Haul.” She grabbed the sheet and pulled it up over her nakedness.

  “No, it’s not that. I really enjoyed last night.” Truth be told, she already missed the sight of those perfect breasts. “But—”

  Tanya ran a hand through her short hair and eased from the bed with the sheet still wrapped around her. “You’re right. We shouldn’t muddy the waters until we find out if there’s actually something to wade into. Let’s see what happens today.” She found her clothes on the floor and turned her back as she started to throw them on. “Then we can figure out if this is something.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Parker wasn’t sure about the metaphor. But she got the tone. Tanya had leaped through Parker’s door earlier only because she was certain tomorrow would be a total bust. She was way too smart and polished to sleep with a client, and after a failed tryout, Gridiron wouldn’t even field a phone call from Parker. Tanya was playing the odds and just getting some while she could.

  Parker ran a hand through her long hair, sweeping it behind her shoulders. Shit. She had thought she was in control, the one writing the story of their night. She jumped out of the bed and strutted across the room without bothering to reach for her clothes. Years in the gym and on one field or another had toned her body to absolute perfection, and she knew it. She’d give Tanya one last look at exactly what she was betting against.

  The energy in the room stilled, and Tanya stopped rustling with her clothes.

  Parker could almost feel the heat from her gaze, like Supergirl’s X-ray vision, moving up and down her body. She would take the small victory.

  Parker walked to the front door and pulled it open. The hall outside was empty at this late hour, thank God. She just wanted to make a point, not provide a free peep show to anyone in the hallway.

  “What time’s the car to the stadium?” Parker swung to face Tanya in a full reveal.

  Tanya stared for a moment and then closed her mouth with a soft pop. “Noon. I’ll meet you in the lobby at noon. By those jack-o’-lanterns made of…”

  “Chrysanthemums.”

  “Yeah, the Halloween exhibit.” After bending down to grab her purse, she headed out but paused before she stepped over the threshold and raised her hand to Parker’s cheek. “Of course, you know that just trying out for an NFL team is a very big deal, even if you never play. To be the first at anything is a great honor. You’ll open the door. Play this right, and you’ll make contacts. We’ll both make some money, and maybe we can do all this again when—”

  Parker caught the hand and pulled it off her cheek. “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

  “This is being on your side.” Tanya’s br
ow furrowed. “You know the likelihood of this crazy stunt working out is pretty slim.”

  Parker’s hackles rose. “Don’t count me out yet. I could be the one to walk through that door. I may just surprise you.”

  “Oh, you’ve surprised me already.” She ran a glance up and down Parker’s body one last time. “Get that sleep.”

  Parker closed the door behind her and flipped the privacy lock with a hard snap. The room was still awash with the lights of a city that never slept. Crossing to the mirrored picture window, Parker looked out on perhaps the finest view of the Strip. The Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe straight ahead, the glorious dancing fountains of the Bellagio to the left, and the brilliant neon of fantasies and dreams as far as the eye could see.

  She yanked the blackout curtain across the window, and the room sank into darkness. A view for suckers. The bright colors and all the bling gave people false hope. There were far too many people in this city standing alone in hotel rooms in the middle of the night with broken dreams. Behind all the glitz, Vegas was a brittle place. She had never liked it much.

  The Sherbourne Hotel, of course, was the one exception. She had to hand it to her father. He sure knew how to choose a location. He got five stars for that and, in fact, for the entire hotel. Dozens of guidebooks had called him a genius for the way he had created such intimacy in a property with over two thousand rooms. The hotel rose like an island of elegance in a sea of extravagance.

  Parker sighed. She wished for the umpteenth time that he would work as hard on their relationship. Lately, she would give him one star, if that. When she was a kid and there was a football game on TV, they would grab a couple of Dr. Peppers and chill out in the media room. But she couldn’t remember the last time that happened. She had learned the hard way people never hung around when you wanted them to. It was better to kick them out before they walked away and chase your dreams alone—and that’s what she would do at the tryout later.

  Not far away in Paradise Valley—a neighborhood off the Strip with no glitzy neon or shrunken French monuments—Carly Bartlet was also wide-awake. She tossed and turned in her twin bed, twisting the blankets up under her chin and then pushing them back down.

  “Can’t sleep?” Her grandmother’s soft Southern drawl drifted over from her side of the room.

  “Oh goodness. Did I wake you?” Carly raised her head and peered into the semi-darkness. A lone streetlamp outside their bedroom window cast a sickly yellow light into the room. She could barely see her grandmother’s pale figure.

  Minnie Lee sat in her own twin bed propped up against several pillows. “No. Not at all. When you’re my age, you chase sleep at night. Not the other way around.”

  “Seventy-three is not that old.” Carly pulled herself up as well. “And if sleeping badly is the criteria for age, tonight I must be a hundred and twelve.”

  “You’re just nervous, sweetheart.”

  “It’s more than that.” She bit her lip as the panic rose like bile in her stomach. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to make this work.”

  “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Who was hired by UNLV the second she graduated?”

  “Yeah, but this is the pros, and you didn’t see the Rollers’ head athletic trainer when Mrs. Fisher brought him into her office and announced I was his newest assistant. Buck was so mad, steam would’ve come out of his ears if he were a cartoon character.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. And if it is, you just show him what you’re made of, and then he’ll blow a different tune.”

  “Maybe.” Her shoulders dropped as her grandmother’s unwavering confidence washed over her. In a way, she didn’t blame Buck Johnson. When Marina Fisher had inherited the High Rollers after her husband’s death, she had gone on record as saying she would find a way to change the league.

  Carly had signed the contract before she had a chance to sit down with Buck and lay out her philosophy and expectations of medical care on the sports field. Knots tightened in her stomach. How was she supposed to navigate treatment with the players when she didn’t even have the head athletic trainer on her side?

  “You might as well get up if you’re just going to sit over there and fret.” Her grandmother broke into her thoughts.

  Carly looked at the clock on her bedside table. Three forty-eight. She wanted to be at the stadium by five thirty, a half hour before the training room opened. It was almost time to get up anyway. “Okay. Do you think I’ll wake up Teddy if I take a shower?”

  “That boy could sleep through one of his zombie apocalypses.”

  Laughing, Carly threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. “Tonight, when I get home, we should talk about me moving out into the main room, though. I don’t want to wake either of you up if I come in late or get up early. Who knows what my hours are going to be?”

  “I’d rather talk about how your first day went.” Her grandmother snuggled back into the pillows.

  “Thanks, Grandma.” She slipped from the room.

  What Carly really wanted to talk about, however, was her grandmother dropping a few shifts at the diner or maybe looking for an affordable used car. She shook her head to clear her mind. She shouldn’t get ahead of herself. To get the bigger paycheck that could change their lives, she actually had to keep the job.

  After getting out of the shower, she swiped a towel across the steamed-up mirror and caught a glimpse of herself. Who am I to think I can do this?

  The pretty, light-brown face staring back at her held no answers. She looked younger than her twenty-six years. Maybe she would one day be grateful for that genetic gift from the father she had never met, but right now, it was a liability. No one at the Rollers was going to take her seriously. They would treat her like an intern, for sure. The knots in her stomach tightened. She pulled her loose waves up into a high ponytail. No, that was even worse; now she looked like a teenager.

  She yanked the hair band out and nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “You can do this.”

  Her grandmother waited for her in the main room of the tiny apartment. She sat on a barstool at the breakfast bar, wrapped up in a thick bathrobe. October mornings in the Valley were still mild, but Minnie Lee, thin as a rail, was always cold. And thanks to the cost, they almost never ran the heat until December.

  “Wish me luck.” Carly grabbed her backpack and a new, quilted Rollers jacket off the sofa.

  “Exactly.” Minnie Lee pointed to the vintage cake carrier beside her. “You didn’t think that I’d let you go off to your dream job without Sweet Luck, did you?”

  Carly’s heart melted. The cake tin was almost as old as her grandmother, and with its faded red roses and broken hinges, it had certainly seen better days. But ever since her grandmother had arrived in Vegas from Alabama, this cake tin had appeared at all the big moments in their lives. A family tradition. Sweet Luck. Her grandmother meant it literally.

  “I told you. You’re not going to need it.” Minnie Lee’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “But it doesn’t hurt to hedge your bets, does it?”

  Carly shook her head and grinned back. “Thanks.” She flipped the latch at the bottom of the tin and raised it to reveal a serving of her grandmother’s famous banana pudding: fresh bananas smothered in vanilla pudding with butter cookies on top.

  “Is that Sweet Luck?” Her half brother stood in the hallway, barely awake. His dark hair was tousled, and his warm eyes still sleepy. “I could use some Sweet Luck.” And when they both looked at him, he added, “Seriously, I have an important science lab today.”

  Laughing, Carly held out the fork. “You finish it, then. I got to go anyway.”

  “Score.” Teddy held out his clenched palm for a fist bump. “You too, Grandma.”

  When her grandmother added her fist to the mix, Carly marveled at the different colors of their knuckles—white, tan, and a darker brown. They d
idn’t look like family, and that was why their grandmother always worked so hard to make them feel like one.

  Teddy pulled his fist back, wiggling his fingers in some move he had probably picked up at school, and slid onto the barstool to attack the pudding.

  Carly kissed her grandmother on the cheek and gave her brother a quick side hug.

  “See you later, sis,” he said.

  “Goodbye, sweetheart.” Minnie Lee raised her hand.

  “Oh! Wait!” Teddy dropped his fork on the plate. “Did you hear? There’s a new way to put players’ muscles back together when they hurt them.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah. With super gluteus.” Teddy glanced back and forth between them. “Get it? Super glu…teus.”

  Minnie Lee laughed.

  Carly groaned and rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

  “Then I’m super gluteously happy I’m going to work.”

  On the way out, she caught their reflection in the mirror of the coatrack by the door. They sat at the bar, the smiles from the joke still playing at their lips.

  Laughter and love. They had plenty of that.

  Two buses, fifty strip malls, and a three-minute walk later, Carly stood at the staff entrance to the High Rollers’ stadium. The domed structure with its clear roof and silver and black exterior looked as if a sleek alien spaceship had touched down on the south end of the Strip. The curtain-like side windows were closed this early on a Tuesday morning, but come game day, they’d retract to create a gorgeous open-air entrance that framed the Las Vegas Strip and was the envy of the entire league.

  Never in her whole life did she think she’d be standing outside a two-billion-dollar stadium and actually belong there. Carly had fought hard for everything that had come her way, and at times disappointment had rung more loudly than success. But there was no denying it. Her gambles had paid off. She was a High Roller.