Chapter 15 #2
In the silence, an idea slams into me. What if Roman was a star player in college, someone who was a shoo-in to go to the NFL, but his big dreams got snatched away by an injury?
When Roman was explaining the draft to me yesterday, he said injuries can play a big part in a player’s ultimate journey in the NFL.
Did he base that not only on his clients’ experiences but also on his own?
That would explain Roman’s reluctance to talk about his college playing days.
Also, why he wanted to get the hell out of that store and doesn’t want to talk about it now.
Because the whole situation is still too raw and painful for him to talk about.
Whenever random, well-meaning people in Orchard Blossom ask me how I’m coping without my mother, I never want to talk with them about her, and certainly not about the circumstances of her self-inflicted death, so I can definitely relate to the urge to shut down and quickly move the conversation along.
“Would you mind pulling up the name of the trailhead?” Roman asks, motioning to my phone in the cup holder. “As I recall, the trailhead is a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of thing.
I salute. “You’ve got it, Pilot.”
Roman tells me the name of the hike, and I plug it into my navigation app.
“How close are we, Copilot?”
“One point two miles.”
“Keep an eye out, okay?”
“I’m on it.” Am I, though? As long as I’ve got my phone out and Roman’s laser-focused on the road, now seems like a perfect chance to search the internet using every clue I’ve learned thus far about Roman.
I peek at my handsome driver again, and when I’m certain he’s not paying attention to me, I input everything I know: Roman, University of Texas, Austin, tight end, football player, gym owner, Delaware.
To my disappointment, though, my search brings up some random guy named Chad Roman—a strawberry-blond dude with a goatee and light eyes who bears zero resemblance to the dark-haired, dark-eyed Adonis sitting next to me.
No shade to Chad Roman, though. Age thirty-seven. He seems like a successful guy. Apparently, he was a phenom at UT Austin who then went on to become a superstar, longtime tight end for the Minnesota Marauders, until a knee injury sadly forced him into retirement two seasons ago.
Undeterred, I search the same list of terms again, except adding “injury” and “injured,” in case my hunch about Roman is correct, but my addition doesn’t change the ultimate result. Chad Roman, Chad Roman, Chad Roman. Every link, article, and photo is about that particular tight end from UT Austin.
Did nobody write about Roman the Tight End for UT Austin back in the day, or has too much time passed for Roman’s write-ups to remain anywhere near the top of the internet slush pile—at least, without me knowing Roman’s last name?
I suppose it makes sense Chad Roman is the only one coming up.
He’s the player who went on to get drafted into the NFL, not Roman.
He’s the one who then became a superstar player in the league, while Roman faded into football obscurity and opened his gym.
The thought makes my heart pang for Roman.
No wonder he doesn’t want to talk about his college playing days.
For a kid who grew up dreaming of NFL glory, not making it into the pros, for whatever reason, must have been a tough pill to swallow.
“Hey, Copilot,” Roman says. “Is that the trailhead?”
I jerk my gaze up from my phone to find Roman slowing the car and pointing to an almost imperceptible clearing in the thick rainforest alongside the highway.
As the car passes the spot Roman’s indicating, I quickly swipe from my browser to my navigation app before sheepishly confirming, “Yeah, that was it. Oops.”
To my relief, Roman chuckles. “You had one job, Copilot.”
“Sorry, Pilot. My mind wandered for a minute there.”
Roman pats my thigh. “No worries, sweetheart. Let your mind wander as much as you need.”
My shoulders soften. Sweetheart. Brandon wouldn’t have reacted like that if I’d messed up in the same way. He’d have chastised me for getting distracted after he’d expressly told me to pay attention.
A short distance from the trailhead, Roman parks the car, and when we exit the vehicle, he doesn’t hesitate to peel off his shirt and shove it into his backpack, along with our supplies.
My God, he looks like a god among men. “If you’re going to hike shirtless,” I say, trying not to ogle him, “let me spray you with bug spray and sunscreen.”
Roman snickers. “Are you a preschool teacher, by any chance?”
“Safety first,” I chirp with my index finger raised, and Roman hoots with laughter.
I spray him down carefully, admiring my canvas as I do, and Roman returns the favor. But as he rubs everything into my skin, he leans into my ear and murmurs, “I hope you’re happy, you sadist. I’ll be starting the hike with a big ol’ boner, thanks to you.”
I giggle. “You won’t be alone. I’ve got my own version of a boner.”
Roman walks me two steps backward and gently pushes me against his car before pressing his hard-on into me.
With a wicked grin, he says, “What can I say? I’m hot for teacher.
” With that, he leans in and kisses me, and we make out against the car for several delightful minutes.
When it’s obvious he’s gotten me extremely hot and bothered, Roman slides his hand into my shorts and fingers me so deliciously, I wind up having an orgasm against the car, just as a random vehicle zips past us on the highway.
“Shoot,” I blurt, as the car disappears down the road. “We need to be more careful. What if they recognized me?”
Roman laughs. “They were going fifty miles per hour, at least. If they saw anything, it was the blur of a horny couple kissing on the side of the road.”
I exhale. “Still, I can’t risk going viral again. Never again. I need to stay out of the limelight, no matter what.”
Roman’s smile fades. He touches my hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll be much more careful from now on.”
“Thank you.” I bite my lip. “Also, thank you for that orgasm. That was a first for me—an orgasm in the wild.” I point to the huge bulge straining behind the fabric of Roman’s shorts.
“What about that bad boy? Do you want to crawl into the back seat and let me take care of that for you?” I waggle my eyebrows to entice him.
Roman’s dark eyes blaze as he drags his teeth over his lower lip.
“It pains me to say this, but no. You’re right.
We should be more careful than that.” He waggles his eyebrows the way I did a moment ago.
“But this is a rain check, okay? I’ll gladly let you ‘take care of this bad boy’ in the privacy of the bungalow tonight. ”