Chapter 1
Chapter One
Sean
I’d like to take full credit for the mob at the East Boston Animal Shelter Holiday Open House today, but about a dozen of us from the Boston Militia football team have shown up with me to help raise funds. And to adopt pets.
Because I have a reputation as the team’s showman—my teammates would argue the correct term is big fucking ham or big mouth or clown—I take on the role of Santa for the neighborhood kids.
Sporting my Santa outfit I heft a large bag over my shoulder and head for the front door handling the weight easily.
I may be a field goal kicker, but I started out as a linebacker and work out regularly, making it my business to look every bit the part of a football player.
I don’t want anyone mistaking me for a soccer player, kicker or not.
“This should be fun.” I grin at Tate Fontanna and his pregnant wife Chloe.
We’re all going to give out gifts to the kids, courtesy of the team.
Joining the others, we carry several bags inside the large building.
A deluge of kids swarm me as I head for the big chair set up center stage in the front of the room.
My teammates follow to play Santa’s helpers.
The gifts are Militia related items like footballs and jerseys and team hats and scarves.
Not as good as trucks and dolls, but better than a kick in the ass.
After a minute of intros, I settle onto my throne-like chair, stroke my beard and let out a chest rumbling, “Ho, ho, ho and Merry Christmas.”
Then I commence with giving out gifts to eager kids of all sizes while cameras flash. I could get into this gig. What a kick. What’s not to love? Making the faces of all these kids light up is beyond cool. By the time the line dwindles, we still have a ton of stuff left.
A scrawny kid with pants that are too short and a shirt that’s too big and sneakers with a duct tape patch lingers a distance away.
Smiling, I reach out and hand the kid a big box with a football.
He wears a My Name is Jimmy tag. He takes the box, staring at me shamelessly like little kids do.
He looks like he’s five or six and still believes in the big man—me.
So I take care to act the part and deepen my voice.
“What do you want for Christmas, Jimmy?” I go to him and squat down to ask because the kid looks like he needs a good meal let alone a football. A sudden need to help him slams my gut. I can’t do anything about world peace, but I can do something about one hungry little kid.
He tugs on his shirt and says, “A Militia jersey. Number two.”
My fucking number.
“You a fan of the field goal kicker?” I grin.
The kid smiles back, nodding, but he looks almost scared.
Before I can rip the shirt off my back to give it to him gladly, a waiflike woman with lush dark wavy tresses and sapphire eyes rushes forward, wrapping her arms around the boy.
The motherly gesture pulls at me. Or maybe it’s the free sway of her extra-large breasts under the faded flannel shirt that causes the stir.
A worn belt cinches her oversized jeans that almost cover her old work boots.
She’s dressed more for Halloween than Christmas, but her smile blinds me.
“Is Jimmy your son? He’s a real winner. I was about to give him a jersey with my—Sean Patrick’s number on it.” Shit. I need to remember I’m playing Santa. I don’t mention to Jimmy’s hot mama that I was ready to rip off the Santa outfit and pull my own jersey over my shoulders to it give him.
“That’s so nice of you, but you already gave him this football and all the kids haven’t received gifts yet.”
Her voice plays like music in my head so her words don’t hit me as I reach into the bag pulling out several jerseys, looking for one with my number on it. Finding one, I hand it to Jimmy though it’ll likely be too big.
“Here you go, Jimmy. Ho ho ho.” The boy beams a smile.
“Thank you Santa.” He stares at the jersey and clutches it to his chest.
“He’ll grow into it,” I say, recapturing his mother’s smile.
“Thank you. What about…” she waves toward the other children.
“We have more than enough for everyone. Don’t you worry about it, Mam.” I add for her ears only, “Kids with gorgeous moms are a top priority.”
She blushes and my dick kicks into gear as my heart beat picks up that familiar rhythm. Until she frowns.
On a laugh she whispers, “That doesn’t sound fair. Besides I’m not—”
“Oh yes you are. Gorgeous.” I keep my voice low. “You’re so gorgeous that you’re not fair.” Cheesy line delivered.
Her blush grows furious now. Jimmy sits on the floor, tearing open the box with the football in it. The other guys are handing out gifts to the remaining kids in line while I pay way too much attention to Jimmy and his mom.
“I have to go get the pets ready.” She takes her eyes off me then and smiles down at Jimmy.
“Let’s go honey.” Jimmy picks up his shirt and football, holding them against his scrawny little body as his mom puts an arm around his shoulders. The lucky bastard. “We have some work to do.” She guides him away before I can think of what to say to keep her here. Hell, I don’t even know her name.
My first impulse is to follow her, but I’ve grown enough good sense over the years to squash my stupider first impulses, having learned the hard knocks way to figure when following impulses are a bad idea.
Instead I turn and hand out gifts to anyone and everyone in reach, adults and kids, until my bag is empty and good will warms me like I’ve just had a shot of Patron.
With the gifts dispersed, I leave through the back, waving and shouting Merry Christmas. Luckily the parents stop the kids from following me.
I use the men’s room to ditch the Santa outfit, revealing my jersey and jeans.
I’m hoping to have another chance to flirt with Jimmy’s hot momma as I make my way back to the decked out shelter lobby to grab some refreshments.
Along with my team mates, I help myself at the buffet, knowing it’s been provided by the Militia organization.
The hot mama isn’t anywhere to be seen. After we eat, I sit with Tate Fontanna and his wife Chloe for the best part of this gig, the pet auction.
This is where we raise a bunch of cash for the animal shelter and we adopt pets.
I’m in the market for a puppy whether it’s a wise choice or not at this stage of the season.
We’re heading into the playoffs which is a complete time suck—and so are puppies if memory serves.
I figure my youngest sister will come up from Texas to help me out with the training though she doesn’t know it yet.
“What kind of pet are you looking for? I say to Tate, “A rattle snake?” My friend punches my arm and I feign injury.
“I want a kitten,” Chloe says with a longing smile.
Tate leans in and whispers, “Her long-time cat died recently. It was her dad’s cat that she brought with her up from Savanah. She’s been devastated.” He clears his throat. “We’re not leaving here today without the cutest kitten they have.”
She grins, “Maybe two of them.”
I choke at the look on Tate’s face. Surprise doesn’t cover it and I laugh at him.
“Sounds like a plan.” I say. “Wouldn’t want a kitten to get lonely.”
Tate nudges me with his knee and I laugh louder until the auctioneer starts up. The audience fills the space with close to a hundred people, a good number of them with the team, and there’s people standing at the back. With my auction paddle in hand, I’m ready, my competitive juices kicking in.
“What kind of dog are you looking for?” Chloe asks. I shake my head.
“I honestly have no clue. A dog who looks like he needs a good home.”
The auctioneer booms, “Ladies and gentlemen, the first adorable pet looking for a good home.” He waves his arm, playing part auctioneer and part circus master.
All eyes turn toward the door to the kennel where I watch my mystery woman with the sapphire eyes bringing in the first dog.
So that’s why she’s dressed more like a farmer than a party goer.
Bidding for the first dog goes fast and furious with bidding starting at a hundred dollars. At one point I raise my paddle just to tweak the competition and one of my teammates glares at me as he outbids me easily.
“This is fun,” I say.
“You’re just making indiscriminate bids, aren’t you?” Tate accuses.
“So what if I am? It’s for a good cause.” Plus, I want to get my dream woman’s attention.
The gorgeous mystery woman assists the auctioneer bringing each puppy and dog up to the stage and showing them around to the bidders, keeping them under control. She has a great way with animals. No duh. She works here.
Sitting not too far from the door to the kennel, I notice Jimmy playing with a cute fluff ball. He clearly loves the puppy and my grin is automatic.
“That’s the puppy you want?” Chloe asks. I turn to her, not realizing how obvious my staring is.
“Yeah. Sure.” Though it would seem like stealing if I took the puppy from Jimmy.
It would probably rip the kid’s heart out.
But someone else will get the pup if I don’t, and then the kid wouldn’t have a chance.
At least if I get it, I could surprise him with the pup as a gift.
The notion grows on me and takes hold. The impulse is so strong that it silences all the problems that might come up like, what if they already have a dog, or what if they can’t have a dog where they live, or all the other possible things that could go wrong.
All hesitation is silenced with the knowledge that I could keep the puppy for myself if Jimmy can’t.
Then he—and his gorgeous mom—could come and visit the puppy at my place. Fucking perfect.
Also, way ahead of myself. Wildly premature thinking. But I don’t give a shit.
When the puppy I want comes up, and my girl—because I’m all in on the premature fantasies about this woman--carries the dog up to the stage, Jimmy tugs on her and she talks to him, bends down and lets him give the dog a final hug.
My chest tightens as I watch her bring the puppy up to the podium, her smile not reaching her eyes this time, but her chin high and brave.
Fuck. My heart races. I have to buy that pup.
The puppy is a female and lively and as the auctioneer talks about her and the hot mamma shows her around, I fall in love with the dog, same as Jimmy has.
The auctioneer shouts, “Can I get a first bid?”
I raise my paddle.
“Five hundred smacks,” I say loud and clear, half ready to jump from my chair.
The auctioneer points at me and says, “Now there’s a man who knows what he’s after.
” Everyone laughs, especially my teammates who know me, but I’m watching my girl and the smile on her face.
It grows warm, reaching those spectacular eyes.
She’s a sweetheart. But as she stands straight, darting consoling looks at her son, I see the toughness in her too.
She’s prepared to take the shot to the gut of losing the puppy.
Turning back to the auctioneer, I raise my paddle again after two other people bid—including my annoyed teammate who I’d bid against before. Payback is a bitch. A lively bidding war ensues, going up by a hundred dollar increments to eighteen-hundred before I get impatient.
“Shit,” I mutter to Fontanna. “I’m going for it.” He slaps my back.
“Go large, my man or go home.”
Raising my paddle, I say, “Five-thousand dollars.”
Predictably there’s a beat of stunned silence, followed by a throb of oohs and aahs among the crowd, as the auctioneer pounds his gavel to get control again.
But I’m watching my mystery woman’s face because it’s breath-stopping as it goes from shock and awe to soft melting resignation.
She’s smiling broadly, grateful, even as her mesmerizing eyes look sad.
The auctioneer calls it sold after a few seconds of silence from the competition and I jump to my feet with Fontanna and we high five as if I’ve just kicked a sixty-yard field goal.
The shelter auctions off another dozen animals and Tate gets his kitten.
The crowd breaks up and we sign autographs and help ourselves to more refreshments while the shelter workers pack up our new pets to take home.
Usually I’m all in on the refreshments, but I have my eye and most of my attention on the woman with the oversized clothes and jewel-like eyes until she goes back into the kennel area with a puppy and her boy Jimmy in tow.
Chloe says, “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Huh?” She and Tate both laugh at me.
“You’re incorrigible and transparent as ice. Cold as ice too,” Tate says. “She looks far too sweet for a guy like you.”
“I think I’m insulted,” I say. “I’m not cold.
In fact, I’m pretty damn hot right now if you want to know.
” I flicker my brows up and down for the laugh, but seriously, there’s something about her that’s hitting my sweet spot, a soft spot I hadn’t realized was there.
Since high school when I left home for college and the pros, it’s been seven years’ worth of endless beauties, women of all shapes and sizes, and in all that time and fun I never got this reaction, this gut deep impression.
“I think you should find out her name,” Chloe says, taking me seriously.
“Don’t encourage him,” Tate says.
“No, I think I see a spark of something,” she says.
Feeling the spark warm my face with something close to embarrassment, I wonder what the hell that’s about since I don’t remember ever having this reaction where a woman is concerned.
Not since grade school, when I had a crush on my second-grade teacher and she told me she was already married after I proposed to her.
My dad laughed and told me to own it. He’d been proud of my boldness.
“Time to own the spark,” I say and I head to the door where the mysterious woman with the sparkling sapphire eyes disappeared.