21. Lance
twenty-one
Lance
Present
Wifey: Are you free to talk?
Wifey. I smirk at her contact information on my phone as I read Gwen’s text message.
The sun hasn’t even risen, and she’s texting. Like me, she’s probably been up all night thinking about my proposal.
I’ve been reeling since the words slipped out of my mouth.
Proposing was not my plan.
When I got off the team bus to find Gwen, all I wanted to do was ask her to go on a date. When I overheard her friend say she was getting married, I flipped.
A wildfire of anger burned through me as questions swirled in my head, trying to make sense of what I had heard. But it was the disappointment and regret that wrapped itself around my heart, slicing it in two, that made me leap into action.
There was no scenario on the planet in which I was going to sit by and watch Gwen marry someone else.
Not a fucking chance.
When I left a shocked and quiet Gwen in the conference room, I immediately started making plans and putting things into motion. Proposing to her is the most impulsive decision I’ve ever made, and yet it’s also brought me a profound sense of clarity.
I was mad at Gwen and acted like a total dick because I was butt-hurt. She was gone the morning after, and I never wanted her to leave.
Fate is giving me another chance. The tricky bastard has been calling for months, dropping signs, and it’s time I answer the call.
Do you want to meet for breakfast?
The three dots come and go as Gwen debates her answer.
Wifey: When and where?
I send her the address to the spot I found by accident as I was out for a run in my neighborhood. She’s going to love it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and sitting at one of the small tables in the back of the café, with a plate of strawberry buttermilk donuts. As I wait, I sip my cappuccino and watch the early morning runners and corporate types walk by the storefront.
Gwen walks up to the store and pulls open the door, sucking all the air from my lungs. She flips her long curls over her shoulder and enters the store, turning heads. As she should.
Gwen is stunning.
The epitome of sweet, sophisticated, and sexy.
My eyes devour Gwen’s deliciously curvy body. She’s wearing a shiny, soft-pink pantsuit with a white blouse that shows a sliver of her midriff, and a pair of strappy nude sandals.
Images of those sandals wrapped around my back make my dick hard.
Don’t get a boner now, I chant in my head.
But, fuck, it’s hard. Pun intended.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve jerked off to memories of Gwen. She lives rent-free in my spank bank.
I watch as Gwen’s pretty aqua gaze searches the café, looking for me.
When our eyes collide, it’s like getting punched in the gut. My breath hitches, and my heart leaps behind my ribs. A soft smile curls her pink lips up as she walks toward the table.
I don’t care what she has to say; this is happening.
We are happening.
“Hi.” Gwen takes the seat across from me and places her purse on the table.
“Hey,” I greet her, my voice grizzled, and I hope she mistakes the sound as sleepy grit and not for the desire to tug her to me, dip her back, and kiss her.
“Interesting place to meet,” she says.
“I clearly remember this gorgeous blonde with curly hair telling me she likes donuts.”
Gwen laughs. “She has good taste.”
She tastes good too.
Ignoring the way my cock stirs again, I push the plate of donuts across the table and point to the tumbler of coffee I bought her. “I got these for you, but I don’t know your drink order, so I took a gamble. Iced vanilla latte. But I can get you something else.”
“No, this is great. Thank you.” She turns the tumbler from side to side, checking it out.
As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted her to have it. It’s pink, has a lid and straw for travel, and is decorated with mini silver donuts.
“I feel like I should know how you like your coffee.” I reach for my cup and take a sip.
Gwen chuckles. “It’s fine. I change my order every time. I’m a fan of seasonal and specialty drinks. Keeps things interesting.”
Noted. My girl is adventurous. My girl?
Cool your jets, Lance.
Gwen takes a sip of her drink and hums. I know she’s not doing it on purpose, but damn, that sound was hot.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask.
Readying herself, Gwen clasps her hands together and places them on the table. “While I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, I don’t think getting married is a good idea.”
I sit back and drape my arm over the chair next to me. “Okay. I hear you.”
“Oh, okay. Good. This was easier than I thought it would be.” Her body language betrays her words as she fidgets with her curly hair, twirling a tendril around her finger.
“I said I heard you, not that I agreed.”
She tilts her head to the side in the cute way she always does when she’s trying to dive below my surface, searching for the deeper meaning.
No need to dig, my little witch.
My gaze firmly locked on hers, I casually pick up my drink and take a sip.
“B-but …” she sputters.
“But … nothing. We’re getting married.”
“You could get fired,” she hisses.
“I won’t.” I impart confidence in my response, which has her biting her bottom lip.
Not to be a cocky asshole, but the Evaders need me. I’m one of the best damn players in the league. It would be stupid to fire me. The only thing her father could do is not renew my contract when it expires, forcing me to go free agent. Worst case, I end up having to play for another team.
But it wouldn’t be the end of my career.
“Love the confidence, but I don’t want to be the reason you have to leave the Evaders,” she says.
Smart woman. She’s been around the game her whole life; she understands what’s at stake.
“Do you have any other objections besides me possibly getting fired?” I ask.
“Um,” she hesitates, reaching for another excuse.
It’s touching that the only reason she doesn’t want to get married is to protect me. But who’s protecting her?
Her own father lied to her about working for the team. There isn’t a man in Gwen’s life who has put her needs first.
I’m going to be the one to protect her. Help her achieve whatever she wants. Stand beside her as she proves how damn strong and intelligent she is. If that means I have to play on another team. So be it.
Nico’s right. Some things are more important than baseball.
“Didn’t think so,” I gloat.
Gwen balks, “We don’t even know each other.”
“I beg to differ.” I smirk and wink at her over my mug.
The apples of her cheeks flush, reminding me of the way that flush paints her chest when she orgasms. I wonder if she’s thinking about me making her come.
“Don’t be a perv,” she chides, avoiding eye contact.
Oh yeah, she was thinking about it.
“Apologies. Now tell me what this is really about, because you said yes and I’m calling no backsies.”
“This isn’t the sixth grade, Lance. You can’t call no backsies when we’re talking about marriage. This is real life.”
“It is. But sometimes life puts hurdles in our way. Let me help you over that hurdle. I know how much working for the team means to you, and proving your dad wrong is the cherry on the sundae.”
“What do you get out of this arrangement?”
You.
“I get to help a friend,” I say cooly.
Gwen watches me for a long minute, then sits tall. “If we do this, we need rules.”
Rules?
“I’m listening.” I’m curious to hear about these so-called rules.
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small, pink notebook and a matching pen.
Fuck, she’s cute.
I bite my tongue to keep from laughing as she scrawls Lance and Gwen’s Marriage Contract at the top of the paper and underlines it.
Gwen squares her shoulders. “One: We agree that this arrangement is temporary.”
Temporary?
Something tells me I’m not going to like any of Gwen’s little rules. Instead of answering, I nod, curious at what she has to say.
“Good. Rule two: No sex.”
Fuck that.
Her aqua eyes pin me like two ocean-colored flames, daring me to challenge her. No use in fighting her now. I’ve gotta get my ring on her finger first.
Then I’ll work on her stupid rules.
I nod again, and she scribbles No sex on the paper, underlining sex three times.
Interesting.
“No kissing,” she says next.
“Disagree,” I answer too quickly, making Gwen frown. “We will need to provide a certain amount of PDA in front of others to sell the story.”
“Fine. But let’s limit it to hugging, hand-holding, and quick pecks. No tongue.”
The mention of tongue has me adjusting my pants. A memory of me tonguing her pussy, as she sucked my cock like a damn lollipop, pops into my head.
With a quick jerk, I nod and watch her write rule three: Limited PDA.
“My turn.”
“Okay. What would you like to add?” She twirls the pen between her fingers.
“You have to move in with me.”
The pen slips from her fingers and flies across the table with a clatter.
“What?” she asks with a gasp. Her eyes are practically popping out of her head, like a cartoon meme.
I reach for the pen and place it on the table. “We can’t live in separate homes.”
“But—”
I cut her off. “Married couples live together, Gwen. Besides, my house is new and has state-of-the-art security, so you’ll be safe while I’m on the road.”
The lie slips with ease, and I make a note to call Cam and take him up on his offer to get my place secure. Don’t know why, but I like the idea of her living in my home while I’m away.
“Fine, but I want my own bedroom,” she demands, recovering from her shock.
That’s the thing I like about Gwen: She’s tough as nails and says what she wants. But so do I, and separate bedrooms won’t work for me.
First, I have to get her through the door.
“As you wish,” I agree, then I hit her with my final requisite, and it’s a whopper. “Last rule: We get married tonight.”
She shakes her head. “There’s no way we can pull off a wedding on such short notice. There are dresses, and invites, and venues …”
“Breathe, Gwen.”
“Breathe,” she repeats and takes a deep, calming breath.
I reach across the table and place my hands on top of her shaking ones. Her skin is silky-soft, and like the first time I held her hand, tiny prickles of energy vibrate between us.
Marrying Gwen isn’t just some impulsive decision to help her. I have a selfish reason too.
I want her for myself.
From the moment I met her, she captivated me. She’s strong and smart. Funny as hell. We had an amazing time together. Even when we were just talking. Gwen saw me that night. The real version of me.
This marriage is unconventional, but I couldn’t have come up with a better way for us to start over. For her to stay and never leave my bed again.
It’s going to take time, but I think I can get her to fall for me.
“Gwen, if we give our relationship room to breathe and tell people we’re just dating, then people, mainly your family, will start having opinions. But if we elope, there’s no room for objection. You get the job, and then we can figure out the rest.”
“How do you expect to pull this off? No one is going to believe we’re in a relationship,” she says.
I can hear the panic and doubt in her voice, but it only encourages me to prove her wrong. I stayed up all night putting a lot of thought into her question, and I know my plan will work. It also helps that we have people who will back us up.
“They will if we keep our story simple. We met at the World Series party and have been dating secretly since then. We kept our relationship quiet to make sure it was serious. Now it’s serious, so we got married. It’s what people call a whirlwind romance.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
I lift her right hand to my lips and press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Me too. But I’ll be right beside you the entire time. Promise.”
Gwen’s lips lift into a soft yet nervous smile. “Okay, then let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
The mini caveman in me beats his chest in victory.
Vegas, here we come.