The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

7. Casey

Chapter 7

Casey

I was finding it hard to keep in control.

It had been years since I’d been on a real date. Coaching schedules didn’t leave much time for romance, and when I’d been in a relationship, I didn’t have to worry about dates.

As I sat at a table in one of Atlanta’s nicer restaurants, fiddling with the edge of my napkin and waiting for Gemma to arrive, I felt utterly unprepared.

The restaurant was everything I thought a first date required: quiet, classy, and intimate enough to let us actually talk.

I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt, glancing at the door for the hundredth time. My palms were damp, and my heart was doing something that felt suspiciously like a slap shot in my chest. Or a heart attack.

What the hell was wrong with me? I ordered around a team of professional athletes on a daily basis without breaking a sweat, but the thought of spending an evening with Gemma had me tied in knots.

When she finally walked in, I almost forgot how to breathe.

She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right ways, her red hair cascading over one shoulder like fire against the cool, muted tones of the restaurant.

She looked both elegant and effortlessly herself, and the sight of her sent a wave of heat through me that I hadn’t felt in years.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she approached, her voice light and easy. “Winnie insisted on showing me every single drawing she’s ever done before I left.”

“You’re not late,” I said, standing to pull out her chair. “And even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you. Sounds like important business.”

She smiled as she sat, her brown eyes shining. “It really is. Four-year-olds don’t mess around when it comes to their art. Her teddy bear era has ended and we’ve gotten into drawing food for some reason.”

I laughed, settling back into my seat as the waiter appeared to take our drink orders. I opted for a glass of wine, though I was tempted to ask for something stronger to calm my nerves.

Gemma ordered sparkling water, and the way she smiled at the waiter—warm but not flirtatious—made me think she was as naturally kind as her brother always claimed.

“So, do you think she’ll be an artist one day?”

“I try very hard not to project onto her what I want for her that way. My only goal is for my girl to be safe and happy. What she does with that is up to her.”

“That sounds very open minded of you.”

Gemma smiled and shrugged. She did that a lot when I complimented her, and it left me with the impression that she wasn’t used to compliments, which was a damn shame. She said, “When you have the safety and happiness stuff taken care of, it’s easier to become who you’re meant to be, don’t you think?”

“I’d have to imagine so. But I don’t have any kids, so I’m out of my depth on that end of it, and I’d never presume to know how to raise one.”

“It’s a lot, but a lot of it you make up on the fly. Reminds me of the one improv class I took in college.”

“I bet you were great at it,” I said.

She laughed once. “I was awful at it. Nearly failed.”

“Can’t picture you failing at anything.”

“There you go again, being kind.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Just honest.”

Our drinks came and she went on, “The improv class was stressful. Constantly stressful. I never knew what to expect. But by the end of the class, I had a C to pass it and an understanding of how to deal with people better. It’s probably the class I use the most in my day to day routine, and not just with Winnie, but with interviews, too.”

“Because you never know what someone will say?”

She nodded once. “For instance, I didn’t know you were going to ask me out.”

“Neither did I,” I confessed. “It just sort of slipped out.”

“Is that how you get your dates, Coach McConnell? Accidentally?”

I snorted. “Call me Casey, and usually, no. It takes a lot of working up the courage and hoping I don’t fall flat on my face.”

“Am I not intimidating enough to warrant all that effort?” she teased.

“You scare the panties off me.”

Gemma laughed far too loudly for the decorum of the restaurant, and I loved to see it. She slapped her hand over her mouth, but her shoulders heaved with residual giggles until she calmed down. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

“How precisely do I scare the panties off of you, and yet you were able to ask me out so easily?”

“Because when it came to you, I couldn’t help myself.”

Her cheeks flushed red from that, but before she could respond, the food came out. After a few initial bites, she asked, “Do you mind if I ask a few work questions?”

“Shoot.”

“Not the thing to say to a sharpshooter,” she said with a gleam in her eyes.

“Seriously?”

“My dad used to take us to the range when we were kids. I’ve always had a knack for it.”

“See? I knew you were impressive. Does Atlanta still feel like your hometown, or have we changed enough in the past few years to make it different for you?”

She sat back, thinking. “It’s still home, but a few of my old haunts are different now. Bing’s Books is now a tattoo parlor, that kind of thing. But it still has my favorite people, so it’s home.”

The moment felt easy, natural—until the waiter returned to deliver our second round of drinks, and in the process, managed to knock over my glass of wine. Red liquid spread across the tablecloth like a bloodstain, soaking through the edge of my shirt and dripping onto my lap.

“Oh, no!” the waiter said, his face going pale as he scrambled to clean up the mess. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, though I could feel the heat creeping up my neck because everyone else was staring. I was used to attention in my professional life, but when I was off the clock, I wasn’t a fan of it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Gemma bit her lip, her eyes wide, and for a second, I thought she might be embarrassed and leave. But then she started laughing—softly at first, and then harder, until she was shaking her head and wiping tears from her eyes.

“You’re taking this well,” I said, trying not to feel like a complete idiot.

“I have a kindergartener,” she said, still laughing. “This is nothing. You should see my dining table after spaghetti night.”

Her humor was infectious, and before I knew it, I was laughing too. The waiter looked relieved as he cleaned up the mess, and when Gemma reached across the table to squeeze my hand, I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

The rest of the night didn’t go much better.

Her steak came out cold. To my surprise, she still ate it. “I haven’t had a hot meal in years. You get used to it.”

When my credit card was briefly declined because I’d forgotten to activate the new one my bank sent, I had a small internal panic attack until things got settled.

As we waited for that to be handled, a small child from another table ran up and stole her purse. She laughed as his mother returned the bag, brushing it off with an ease that made me feel like none of it really mattered. “As long as everything’s inside, no harm, no foul play.”

The mother sighed. “Thank you. He’s done this twice in the past month. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Mine’s the same way with the fall leaves since we moved back. I’ve found a pile under her pillow. You just never know with kids.”

“Good luck, hon.”

“You, too.”

I couldn’t believe her. Every woman I’d dated would have lost their shit if a kid stole their purse. “You’re hard to rattle.”

“I could stress out about the little things or roll with the punches. That kind of stress is a choice, and I choose not to worry about it. The kid was just being a kid, and everything is in my bag.”

After we finished at the restaurant, we walked out into the cool night air of an Atlanta autumn. “It’s refreshing to spend time with someone who has such a positive outlook on life.”

“I didn’t always. It took practice and sometimes, it still does,” she said, holding up her phone, which was now tethered to a small portable charger. “Case in point, I forgot to charge my phone before I left, so this thing is my lifeline. Most problems have easy solutions. You just have to know where to look.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She laughed, nudging me with her shoulder as we walked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

We strolled in companionable silence for a while, wandering toward a nearby park. The city lights glittered in the distance, and the sound of crickets filled the air. It felt strangely intimate, like we’d stepped into a world that belonged only to us.

“Can I ask you something?” I said as we reached a bench near a small fountain.

“Of course.”

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “With me, I mean. I’m so much older than you, and…”

“And what?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’d be interested. You could be out with any guy. But you’re not.”

She studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “Do you really not see it?”

“See what?”

She smiled, reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face. “You’re kind, Casey. And thoughtful. And maybe you don’t realize it, but you have this way of making people feel safe. And you’ve got a great ass.”

I laughed because her words caught me off guard. There was something about this woman that I couldn’t figure out. I felt a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name. Whatever it was, it settled deep in my chest, warming me from the inside out. Gemma saw me as a man. Not just Coach. It had been a long time since someone saw me that way.

“I’m glad you think so,” I said finally. “Because I don’t think I could stop being interested in your ass even if I tried.”

She laughed and I moved in. I kissed her, her hands on my shoulders and mine cradling her face. Her lips were soft and warm, and the world around us seemed to fade into nothing.

And then it started to rain.

At first, it was just a light drizzle, but within seconds, it turned into a full downpour. Gemma laughed against my lips, and I couldn’t help but laugh too, pulling her closer as the rain soaked through our clothes.

“Guess this date isn’t done going wrong,” I said, grinning.

“Depends on how you look at it,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“We should find someplace to lay low until the rain passes?—”

“Why would we do that? You’ll keep me warm, won’t you, Casey?”

I answered without words, slanting my mouth over hers as I backed her against a nearby tree that stood in a cluster of them. It was the most privacy we could find in the moment, and since no one had been around before the storm, I wasn’t too concerned with propriety.

The rain on her lips, the way it soaked through her dress so it clung tighter to her body, I was lost in my senses and all of them pointed to Gemma.

She wasn’t shy about what she wanted, either. Her hands wandered down over my pants, and I hadn’t planned on that, but I wasn’t about to turn it down.

I wanted Gemma. It wasn’t right of me—consorting with a player’s family was strictly forbidden for a number of reasons. But I couldn’t remember a single one of them at the moment. She had me, and I couldn’t help myself.

I reached beneath her dress, my hand sliding between her thighs. She groaned in my mouth, and it was a sound I wanted to hear over and over. Blood was pouring into my cock. “You like this, don't you.”

“Don’t stop!”

I couldn’t help but smile hearing that. When I slipped my hand into her underwear, she was wet already, and her body jolted when I played with her. She was tight on my fingers, and her whimpers only grew when I worked her over.

She rode my hand, bucking between me and the tree with her arms around my neck for balance. We kissed, but it was more than that.

It was everything.

As she came, she cried out, the rain drowning out the sound. I gentled my fingers out of her, and she gasped, “I want more.”

Thank God.

I pressed my forehead to hers. “Tell me what you want, Gemma.”

“I want you inside of me.”

No sweeter words in the English language. Unfortunately, I was unprepared. “I don’t have a condom.”

She pulled one from her purse. “I do.”

I put it on, and with a furtive glance around the park, asked one more time, “How do you want me?”

“Bad.” She giggled.

“I mean, what angle?” But I didn't wait for an answer.

I kissed her and picked her up, so her back was against the tree and her legs belted my waist.

I slid inside of her and the deeper I went, the more her head tipped back to the tree as she moaned. Her exposed throat begged to be licked and bitten, and I obliged, tasting every raindrop that dared to touch her.

I pumped deep into her and relished the feel of her tight heat. It was addictive, this feeling. I should have been scared to death, unable to perform. We were in public. She was too young for me. She was one of my player’s sisters.

But none of that mattered. Or maybe the forbidden aspect added an edge that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Gemma rode me rough, bouncing on my cock like it belonged to her. And in the moment, it did.

She gripped my shoulders, her thighs squeezed my waist, and all I wanted in the world was to see her come. None of that other stuff was on my radar.

When she came, I felt it, too. That rhythmic pulse. It drove me to my own edge, and just moments later, a surge shot through my spine and my balls as it hit, taking my breath away.

I leaned on the tree to stop from collapsing. My heart pounded in ways it hadn’t in years.

When it was over, we stood there for a moment, the rain cooling the heat between us. I turned my head to look at her, and she smiled, her hair plastered to her neck and her eyes bright with something I couldn’t quite name.

“You’re incredible,” I said softly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

“So are you,” she said, her voice just as soft.

As we cleaned up and headed back toward the street, I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers.

I didn’t know what would come next, but I wasn't going to let it slip through my fingers.

Not this time.

I walked her to her car. “I’ll call you.”

“You better,” she said, her smile teasing but sincere.

And as I watched her drive away, I couldn’t help but feel like my world had tilted on its axis. And I couldn’t have been happier about it.