Want More? #2
Coach grinned over at Alexa, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth. A dentist’s dream.
“I’m Ryder, by the way. Ryder McCauliffe.” He smiled at me and I noticed he had very cute dimples and a nice square jaw. This man was fine.
“I’m Bree. Bree Hart. Alexa’s, er, Alex’s aunt,” I corrected myself, shoving my hands into my back pockets. Super awkward . “I’m gonna just stand over here,” I motioned to the group of mingling parents, chatting with each other and ignoring me. “And watch.”
“Sounds good, Bree.” He grinned at me again as I backed away toward the sideline, torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and die or watch this beautiful man coach Pee Wee football.
Coach Ryder turned towards the Pee Wees. “Does everyone have their mouthguards?” Eleven kids nodded yes, while Alexa shot me a pointed look.
“Oh yes, I have that!” I fumbled in my bag, produced the mouthguard.
Running back out to the field, I handed it to my niece, willing myself not to trip or otherwise further embarrass myself. I felt Ryder’s eyes on me. Swiveling back around, I wished fervently for the safety of the sidelines. I was clearly out of my league here.
“Okay, so guys, how many of you have played football before?” Coach Ryder asked the kids. All twelve hands shot up in excitement.
“Great! We’re gonna be a great team then. And on my team—your team—we all have to follow a couple rules. My number one rule is be safe. How do you think we can do that?”
I filed that away; I’d have to tell my sister as soon as we got home. Safety first here at Pee Wee football!
Oh shoot, I never called her to tell her we got to the field. Grabbing my phone, I tapped out a quick text:
Made it. We’re all good. And Coach is HOT
I hit send and listened to Ryder talk about rule number two, be kind and show good sportsmanship.
Brooklyn: What’s coach’s name?
Bree: Ryder McCauliffe
Brooklyn: THE Ryder McCauliffe?
Bree: ????
Brooklyn: You know. Former NFL Wide Receiver for the Dallas Cowboys. High school hotshot. Played at UGA, then drafted by Dallas. First round
Bree: Um, obvi I did NOT know or maybe would have taken more than like 10 secs to get ready
Brooklyn: You’re definitely calling things off with Pax, right?
Bree: Yes. I mean, I tried. I *think* we’re broken up
Brooklyn: He’s single, you know. Wink-wink
Bree: I didn’t ask
Brooklyn: You didn’t have to. I’m your sister
Bree: Am I that transparent? Geez, I hope I have a better game face than that
Brooklyn: His kid is probably on the team
Bree: Wha-what?!?!
Brooklyn: Yeah, cute kid. Think his name is Charlie. Or something like that
Bree: So you’re telling me this hot pro baller is a Single. Dad.?!?!
Brooklyn: Yep. Look around. How many very attractive women are attending football practice right now?
I glanced around and did a quick mental survey. There were several blondes in tight spandex leggings gathered together, another pretty brunette on her phone (snapping a photo or two?), and one intense dad with a clipboard, taking notes.
Bree: Yes, loads
Brooklyn: He’s a local celeb. I’m sure women throw themselves at him. All. Day. Long.
Bree: I can see why
Inwardly, I groaned. Of course they would. And I’d embarrassed myself already, within the first two minutes of meeting the guy. Mental head smack.
“And our last team rule is to have fun. Because if we do all of those things, we’ll be winners!
Now I want you guys to put your hands in here, like this,” Ryder demonstrated, dropping his hand into the middle of all the kids, “and on the count of three say ‘Go Lions! Roar!’ Ready? One, two, three!” All the kids yelled out “Go Lions” and did their best roar, which was adorable.
Cue heart melt. I glanced around and noticed several of the moms videoing the speech.
Oh brother. This guy was a freaking saint.
Ryder had the kids run some drills, so I took the opportunity to find my way to the bleachers and do a quick Google search. A few taps and I had the dude’s (Wikipedia) life history:
Age: 32
Height: 6’4” (I shorted him an inch. Shame on me.)
Weight: 220 lbs
Position: Wide receiver
Stats: Football superstar at Peachtree Grove High School, helping lead the team to state victory with 18 touchdowns his senior year.
Recruited by University of Georgia (2004-2008), where he played first string Wide Receiver all four years.
Team went on to win Nationals. First round draft pick in 2008.
Signed with Dallas, #18, where he continued to play wide receiver position.
Five successful seasons as starter for Dallas, including one trip to Super Bowl.
Shoulder injury in sixth season left him benched. Retired in 2014.
No mention of personal life, relationship, kid. A few more taps, though, and I had additional dirt.
Ryder McCauliffe and Dallas cheerleader Shayna Bowman tie the knot in lavish multimillion-dollar wedding
Ryder McCauliffe and Dallas cheerleader wife welcome son
Dallas Wide Receiver Ryder McCauliffe and cheerleader wife on the rocks
Dallas cheerleader Shayna McCauliffe files charges of domestic abuse against former pro player-husband Ryder McCauliffe
Former Dallas Wide Receiver McCauliffe calls it quits with cheerleader wife
Sounded like a train wreck. I clicked through the articles, taking in as much info as possible.
There were a few photos of Ryder when he was playing for the team, looking about the same as he did now.
An article about his shoulder injury, sustained during game eight of his sixth season with Dallas. Separated shoulder, requiring multiple surgeries. He sat the bench the rest of the season, then was cut from the team.
Then it looked like his life pretty much fell apart. Domestic abuse charges filed, but he was later cleared of all charges. Divorce looming, nasty custody battle.
From what I read, it seemed like Ryder had full custody and the articles alleged possible substance abuse by Shayna.
I zoomed in on every photo of her. She was pretty.
Very cheerleader. Chesty. Dark, straight hair, wide smile, curvy in all the right places.
Perfect abs. Just like me , I thought wryly.
Dumb to even compare myself, we were nothing alike.
She was taller than me, curvier than me, definitely bustier than me.
I had long, blondish hair with a slight wave, her hair was stick straight, and in most photos she had bangs.
It seemed like she was in it for the money. As soon as Ryder got cut from the team, she started the separation proceedings, which led to the divorce. Bad situation for his kid , I thought.
Just for fun, I did a quick Google search on Shayna McCauliffe.
The same articles popped up, plus her LinkedIn page, describing her as a Dallas Cheerleader/Lifestyle Expert.
Interesting plot twist, considering the drug allegations.
There was an article about her dating one of the League owners, as well as the Defensive Coordinator.
The girl got around, and she definitely had a type. Rich, with athletic being a bonus.
There was only the one mention of their son, Charlie, in the article about his birth. None of the Shayna articles mentioned the child at all and there were zero photos of him. Seemed like Ryder did his best keeping his private life private. I respected that. It was one of my (many) issues with Pax.
“Aunt Bee! Aunt Bee!” Across the field, Alexa jumped up and down, waving me over.
“Coming!” I waved back to her and bounced off the bleachers, taking the steps as quickly as I could.
Most of the other moms were already gathered around Ryder, hanging on his every word.
I hoped whatever he was saying wasn’t critical; I wanted to make sure I got all the information for Brooks.
She’d get an email about it, though, right?
Just as I was closing in on our team’s huddle, a sharp pain hit me in my left knee. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the soft grass, staring up at the blue sky. Hmmm, very few clouds today…
“Are you alright?”
I blinked several times; I wasn’t sure if the blurriness was from the sun beaming directly into my eyes or from the blow to the back of my head. Eventually, Ryder’s eyes came into focus, tiny wrinkles of concern forming around them. Cute…
“Uh, yeah, I think so.” I tried to sit up, but Ryder put his hand on my shoulder, gently keeping me still.
“Wait a few seconds. Trust me on this, lots of experience getting tackled.” He winked and my cheeks flushed crimson.
“K,” I murmured. “Um, what happened? Did I really get tackled?”
“Yeah. A nine-year-old laid you out. Not sure you’re gonna make the first-round draft picks this year. You may need a little more work on your game,” he chuckled, guiding me up by my elbow.
“How’s that feel? Are you dizzy at all?” He gazed deep into my eyes, trying to gauge my concussion risk, I supposed.
“Aunt Bee, are you okay?” Alexa stood by my side, furrows creasing her brow.
“No, not dizzy. I’m fine. I’ll be okay, Alexa.” I waved my hands to brush off their concern and demonstrate my fineness. I bent my knees to try to stand and involuntarily let out a tiny whimper. “Ouch,” I whispered under my breath.
“Let me take a look, I’m a physical therapist by day.” He poked and prodded my knee, bending it this way and that. “You’re going to need to ice that when you get home. That will minimize the swelling. ”
“Swelling?” I asked in a panicky voice.
“Yeah. That kid ran straight into your knee.” He pointed to the side of my left kneecap.
“You’ll probably be okay, but it’s going to bruise and you could have a microtear.
Why don’t you come into the clinic tomorrow and I’ll take a closer look, reassess the situation?
” Ryder tilted his head, waiting for my response.
“I’ll be fine.” I waved my hand again, brushing off his concern.
“I insist. Plus, I have a knee brace, or at the very least, a wrap to decrease swelling.” He touched the side of my knee to demonstrate the wrapping motion and a tingle ran up my leg. That was a good sign, no numbness or loss of feeling. And clearly my libido hadn’t sustained any injury.
“Okay, I’ll come in,” I said.
“Great. I’ll give you my card and you can drop in around lunchtime. We’re usually pretty slow then.”
“Cool. I mean, great, thanks.” I blushed, stumbling over my words. Maybe I did have a slight concussion.
Some of the other moms were shooting me dirty looks, like I’d ruined practice, and the kids were getting rowdy since the coach wasn’t looking.
“You better get back.” I nodded my head towards the group.
“Let me help you up.” Deftly, Ryder leaned in and scooped me up, wrapping one of his arms around my waist and putting almost all my bodyweight onto his strong shoulders. The kids cheered; several of the blonde moms rolled their eyes. So much for good sportsmanship , I thought.
He gave them a wave with his right hand and together we limped to my rental car, Alexa trotting behind.
My close proximity to Ryder helped block out the shooting pain in my knee.
He smelled fantastic, crisp and clean, despite having run practice in eighty-five-degree weather.
I’d been right about his hands—they were large and strong, supporting me at my waist. His pec muscles were straining underneath his shirt, yet he moved effortlessly through the parking lot, as if I weighed nothing. I tried not to swoon.
“This is it.” I nodded at the white Malibu, fumbling in my purse for the keys. I had to lean into him to get to my purse and I fully appreciated his strong, muscled chest against my side. He gripped my waist tighter while I searched, so I wouldn’t topple over.
“Here they are.” I dangled the keys, unlocked the car.
“Are you alright to drive?” Ryder asked, concern clouding his eyes.
“Yep, perfectly fine,” I nodded, stifling a wince.
He opened Alex’s door first, then mine, easing me down gently into the seat.
His face was so close to mine, I saw his five-o-clock shadow.
My breath hitched and we locked eyes for a moment.
A frisson of heat shimmered down my body as I gazed at the darker navy flecks in his eyes.
“Sure you’re okay?”
“Right as rain,” I sing-songed in my most cheerful voice, nodding.
In reality, I could barely hear him over the thumping of my racing heartbeat. No, I was definitely not okay.
I was crushing hard on Peachtree Grove’s most eligible bachelor, Ryder McCauliffe, former pro football player and hot-as-hell single dad.
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