7. king
CHAPTER 7
KING
NFL WIFE
I wiped the nightstands again, like Willow would’ve spotted the fingerprints through the phone. We talked all night last night, but this was different—a video call. Her family was going to a drive-in, and Willow offered to stay behind for a neighbor to pick up some bookshelves. It’d be just the two of us. No interruptions.
I grabbed my hoodie and threw it on, pacing, watching my phone on the bed.
Any minute now.
My phone chimed with the Vanysh chirp, and I dove for it.
The angel
The house is…empty! :D
I clicked to call and watched the little spiral bounce across the screen. Was sitting on the bed too eager? I laid down. Arm behind my head? Yeah. That was better. More casual.
Willow came into view, her curls held up with a bandana and her white glasses sitting pretty on her face. Wow. She threw a grin at the camera. "My neighbor gave me?—"
"Hey," burst out of me. I cleared my throat and tried to act like I meant to do that. "Hey."
"Hi," she laughed and showed off a carton of strawberries. "Ms. González was in hysterics. I used to watch her dog, now she has to find another babysitter." Willow opened the door to her bedroom. "Free strawberries for my years of dedicated service!"
I grinned. "Those look great."
"I’d save you some, but my cousins will definitely help themselves. These are not making it on the plane."
"Are you sure I can’t meet you at the airport?"
"My mother dearest is going to pick me up." Willow propped up her phone on the bed. "I’ll see you right after."
"I’m kind of surprised you’re not driving together."
"If I had my car, I’d drive there myself."
"What happened to your car?"
"Rear-ended at a show." She bit into a strawberry. "My dad said he had a friend who could fix it, and that’s on me for trusting a poetry professor about cars. My beautiful baby is stuck somewhere?—"
"I can fix your car."
"Is this a laying down the pipe joke?"
"No, I’m serious. I’m really good with cars. Ask your dad where the shop is and I’ll get in contact."
"My baby is somewhere in Laredo." She shrugged. "It’s okay. Eventually we’ll be reunited."
"Well, you have a chauffeur right here."
"Oh, really?" she teased, biting into another strawberry. "I’m very particular about how I drive."
Willow ran her finger along the bottom of her lip, catching the juice. I watched with rapt attention while she sucked her finger. My cock stiffened. As smooth as I could, I adjusted myself without her seeing.
"I have my favorite playlists. I like the windows down," she listed, taking another bite. "I put the princess in passenger princess."
"As long as you’re driving with me, I don’t care."
"You’re so cute."
I tried to say something, but couldn’t figure out the words. There was nothing cool to say while I couldn’t stop grinning.
Say something, dumbass.
"So—uh—" I cleared my throat again. "See—I?—"
"Are you ready for work tonight?"
I gave a sheepish grin. "Thanks."
"Don’t worry, it’s adorable."
I choose to ignore that because blushing during a video call with a hot girl would never be the cool thing to do. I needed to focus on the question. Telling Willow about football still hadn’t happened yet. I said I was a bouncer at a bar, which wasn’t that far from being a defensive end for a football team. Both involved throwing assholes to the ground.
"Yeah, but my boss’s daughter is coming in a couple of months and he’s like a dog before a hurricane. He’s been waiting forever for her to get here."
"That’s so sweet. You two are close, right?"
"Really close. He’s not the kind of boss to hold your hand through something—he’s pretty much a hardass—but I’d go to bat for him any day of the week. I owe a lot to him." I grinned. "He’s pumped to meet you."
"Meet me? "
"Mm-hmm. My friends too. They’re not meeting you now . They have to wait their turn. I don’t want to share your attention yet."
For a moment, Willow was quiet, and she kept glancing at the screen, almost…flustered? She set the strawberries on the nightstand and washed her hands in the bathroom, still with that sweet, embarrassed smile on her face.
Newly emboldened, I caught her attention again. "I liked the video you sent me."
She threw a side eye.
"What?"
"It’s too bad that’s the last one you’re getting," she said lightly. "I sent mine and I haven’t gotten anything in return, so I guess I’m waiting until we meet up."
Confused, I sat up in bed. "What do you want?"
"I’m sure you can figure it out."
Shit. I knew what she was alluding to. Videos and photos like the ones she sent, ones where she carefully unbuttoned her clothes and showed off her body.
"You don’t want that," I assured her, embarrassed.
"Why wouldn’t I?"
"I mean, look at you, Willow. You can’t tell me they didn’t put you on the admissions page for your school. I’m sure photographers stalked you all over campus. You’re so gorgeous. You look like an NFL wife."
A laugh burst out of her. "Thanks, but I’d swallow glass before I let that happen."
My heart skipped a beat.
"What’s the—uh—anti-athlete sentiment about?"
"My mom works with athletes. Super entitled dudes who cheat all over the place. No, thank you."
I pushed past that. The fact that Willow didn’t like athletes didn’t matter. I was a lot of things, and I’d been a lot more, but I wasn’t a cheater. I saw how my dad hurt my mom like that. I would never, ever do that to someone. I already canceled my dates back home, deleting the rest of the numbers with a quick explanation about how I found someone special. Willow had nothing to worry about.
I was certain of that but sending photos was a different issue.
"That’s what you look like though. Picture-perfect. I look…" I motioned towards the scars on my face and the ones that crept up my neck. Not to mention all the ones the hoodie covered. "I look pretty mangled."
"I happen to like how you look, Tattoos."
"I’m not fishing for compliments. You have to see you and I are at different?—"
"Either I get videos or you wait until we see each other again. I’m not budging. You decide."
The embarrassment was layered. I spent three hours this morning doing drills with some of the guys on an unofficial practice. I could do that, but I couldn’t send stuff to Willow besides the single gym selfie.
Give me a dozen football players to tackle—easy. This? Impossible.
"I’ll show you mine if you show me yours," she said softly.
"Uh…right now?"
"Mm-hmm. I like how you look. In fact, looking at you is a complete turn on for me. If you don’t believe that, let me show you."
My mouth ran dry. She was serious.
I fumbled with my words. "I—uh?—"
"It’s summer. Take off your hoodie."