PARIS
TWO
“There are extra diapers in her bag, and her stuffed bunny is in there in case she gives you trouble at nap time, but she was up pretty early, so I have a feeling she’ll go right down,” I say to the daycare worker, Melody, as she bounces Lennon on her hip like she’s been doing it for a hundred years.
As nervous as I was to drop the kids off for our first day, it’s been pretty easy.
Rhys ran off like lightning the moment he saw the giant window that overlooks the Renegades’ practice field, and although I know that Rowan would rather be at home, he didn’t give me a hard time, either.
He was less impressed than his brother, finding a seat at the table and pulling out his portable video game console before lifting his hand in a small wave goodbye.
I hate how fast they grow up.
“She’s going to be just fine,” Melody replies as I back toward the door and fade into the hallway, a soft smile playing at her lips while I reluctantly head to the elevators.
I’m sure she could sense how nervous I am, despite my efforts to act unaffected all morning.
I can’t help it, though. This isn’t only my first day dropping my children off at daycare, but it’s my first day of work… ever.
I know how ridiculous that sounds. I’m a fully-grown mother of three who’s been living on her own for almost a year. How is it possible that I’ve never had an actual job, right?
My life has been nothing like most women my age.
From the time I was young, I was shown examples of women who were meek and quiet—ones who stayed at home and kept the house in order while their husbands were out earning money to pay the bills.
So, when I got pregnant at such a young age, I immediately fell into my role, even though I’d always secretly hoped for something more.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my children, and I wouldn’t trade the years I’ve gotten to spend with them for the world.
As much of an asshole as I think Braxton is for the way he’s treated me, I’m grateful that he got up and went to work each day, so I could be there for every milestone.
But in that time, I forgot that I’m more than just someone’s wife and mother, making those things my entire identity before I was even old enough to vote.
When you’re young, you think everything will always be okay.
You overlook the red flags because you want that fairytale ending from the books that were read to you all your life.
But the truth is that those stories are made up, and sometimes, the princess is left sad and broken while the prince acts oblivious to all of it.
It doesn’t always work out, which is unfortunately something I had to learn the hard way, after years and years of trying to fit into a box that I was never meant to be in.
The day I finally decided I’d had enough was one I’ll never forget as long as I live.
Braxton had just taken off on his third boys’ trip of the year, leaving me with a sick baby and a little boy with a broken leg, who hadn’t quite gotten the hang of his crutches.
Lennon was crying all through the day and night, and I was exhausted from trying to break her hundred- and two-degree fever, running back and forth between her and Rhys as he cried from pain and frustration.
I needed my partner to take some of the load from my shoulders, but he refused because his tickets weren’t refundable.
So, I did something I never thought in a million years I’d do.
I called my brother and asked him to borrow money, so I could get a divorce and a place of my own.
Memphis was drafted by the Cleveland Gladiators right out of high school, leaving our very tight-knit family two years before I got pregnant with Rowan.
Although we were raised the exact same way, he quickly found his true self the moment he was out from under our parents’ thumbs.
He was introduced to a much bigger world than we had ever seen, partaking in all the amazing parties and adventures his new career as a professional athlete had to offer.
He was always a bit of a wild card in our family, testing limits and sneaking out to do things every regular teenager does.
But I was too busy vying for my mom, dad, and Braxton’s approval that I never followed, despite how curious I was about all of it.
Needless to say, Memphis wasn’t too keen on me getting married so young, especially because we would’ve never done it had I not been pregnant.
I loved Braxton as much as a teenage girl with no experience in the real world could, but what we had was never going to stand the test of time.
He was too selfish, and I was programmed to allow it all as long as he was providing for our family.
But aside from the honeymoon stage, I don’t think I was ever truly content.
My brother immediately offered to buy me a house and pay all my bills.
He’d have done it until the end of time if it meant that I was finally breaking free, but that’s not what I wanted.
If I was going to be on my own for the first time in my life, I wanted to stand strong on my own two feet.
So, I accepted the mortgage and help with bills, making him promise not to give me shit when I took it all over the moment I got a job.
The first year was hard. I had a bit of money saved up, which pretty much all went toward household expenses, stuff for the kids, and medical insurance.
Braxton insisted on—in his words—showing me how hard life would be without him, so he did the bare minimum when it came to our children, both monetarily and on the co-parenting front.
His court-ordered child support payments barely put a dent in what they needed between food, clothes, and everything it takes to care for a baby.
The system is flawed, but I refused to let my children suffer because of it.
It took time, but I slowly figured out how to make it work, setting a good routine and getting comfortable as a single mom after we were settled into our new home.
I’m grateful to Memphis for everything he’s done, but now, it’s time to take care of my family on my own.
Which is exactly why I’m excited to be here for my first day working for Paul Grant, owner of the Rock City Renegades.
I’ve been filling out applications and sending résumés for months, barely hearing a peep from anyone in response. I understand, since I’m twenty-six with absolutely no work history, but shit. How am I supposed to get any when nobody will hire me?
Thankfully, Memphis knows someone here—an ex-player he met through some of the charity organizations he volunteers with—and he put in a good word for me.
I guess they were in a bind and needed someone ASAP, which I jumped on.
I can’t wait to show them what a great employee I’ll be, and thank them with my hard work for taking a chance on a single mom who’s never had a job.
Looking at the paper in my hand, I follow the signs that lead to the elevators.
I’ll be working on the seventh floor, welcoming visitors and fielding calls for Mr. Grant and a few other people who work closely with him.
Although Rhys did his very best to give me a crash course on football in the car this morning, I’m hoping I don’t need to be an expert to fulfill my duties.
The woman I spoke to on the phone—I believe Sydney was her name—said that they would train me when I arrived, but that there really wasn’t much to it.
I’m hoping she was right, because I’m really feeling the pressure.
Turning the corner, my eyes lock onto the metal elevator doors just as they begin to close.
Immediately, my brain goes into panic mode, because while I’m not late yet, the extra time I spent saying goodbye to Lennon has me cutting it dangerously close.
That’s the last thing I need—making an awful first impression when I show up after my start time on the very first day.
No. That can’t happen.
“Wait!” I shout, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I run.
“Hold the elevator!” My tote bag slides off my shoulder, and I hoist it back up as my free hand shoots above my head.
I’m waving like a maniac, but by the time I make it even halfway, the doors are sealing shut.
And as if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, the heavy bag slips down, my belongings scattering everywhere the moment it hits the floor.
“Oh no,” I groan, thankful for the fairly empty lobby.
It’s bad enough that I just dumped my stuff all over the place, but it would be a lot worse if people were around to see.
Quickly, I drop to my knees, sliding the tote my way and picking up each item before shoving it back inside.
It’s everything from lipstick to tampons to the useless planner I bought in January, yet have never even written in.
I still carry it, though…just in case I decide to get my life together on a random Wednesday.
It probably won’t happen, but if it does, I’ll be ready.
Scurrying to grab everything before the elevator comes back, I shove it into the bag, my cheeks flaming red even though I’m not sure that anyone saw the snafu. But, of course, it doesn’t remain unnoticed as a deep, masculine voice fills the air around me.
“Mondays. Am I right?”
At first, I’m startled, but when I look up to find a man—correction…the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life—looking down with a show-stopping smile on his face, I seem to forget how the hell I even got to the floor in the first place. To be honest, I don’t even know where I am.
Heaven, I bet. And to answer the age-old question—the angels do, in fact, wear grey sweatpants. Well, at least this one does.
I laugh nervously, my hand darting out to grab the tampon that sits directly in front of his foot as he crouches down beside me. Shoving it into my tote, I try to keep the physical effects of my embarrassment at bay, exhaling a quiet, uneven breath when he extends a hand in greeting.
“I’m Austin. You must be new. I haven’t seen you around before.”
I nod, sliding my palm into his and shaking firmly.
Dimples sink into both his cheeks when his smile grows even wider, and my God, this man is breathtaking.
With his sharp jawline, bright blue eyes, straight white teeth, and perfectly messy sand-colored hair, he looks like he just stepped off the cover of one of those men’s magazines from my doctor’s waiting room.
And don’t even get me started on the veins in his arms and hands.
I’ve never felt like this before, but I have to fight the urge to run my fingers over them.
Too many spicy romance books for you, Pare. Calm down.
“Nice to meet you, Austin. I’m Paris. Mr. Grant’s new executive assistant.”
“Memphis’ sister,” he states, standing to his full height before helping me to mine. “He didn’t tell me how beautiful you were.”
I swallow, trying to hide the nervous exhale that rushes from my lungs as I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
“Thank you. H-how do you know my brother?” My voice is meek and quiet, barely audible to me over the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. God, he’s cute.
Entirely too cute for me to be looking up at him like I want to lick him from head to toe.
He’s probably married, or at the very least, has a girlfriend.
I shouldn’t be ogling him like this, yet I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
He grins, stepping forward and pressing the button marked UP on the pad beside the elevator.
“Memphis and I go way back. We’ve done quite a few charity events together over the last few years.
I was actually the one he talked to when you were looking for a job.
The position was vacated that morning, so it was perfect timing.
It’ll be nice to have a fresh new face upstairs when I stop by. ”
Just then, a quiet ding fills the air, the metal doors sliding open to reveal a now empty elevator.
He sweeps an arm out as if to say After you, and I adjust my bag on my shoulder again before shuffling inside with him hot on my heels.
We’re closed in alone seconds later, my pulse going haywire as the scent of him invades my senses.
It’s clean, with a hint of spice, and my God does it make my mouth water.
Making a mental note to get myself off after the house is settled for the night, I straighten my posture, finding all the composure I have left after such a crazy morning.
I’ve been out in a public setting for all of a half hour, and I’m already inwardly objectifying this man like a boy-crazy teenager.
It’s been damn near two years since I had sex, but that’s no excuse.
I work here, and I need to act like a professional, not like a house cat who’s getting her first taste of freedom with a trip outside.
“I appreciate your help,” I say, my tone smoother and more confident now. “I’ve been a stay-at-home mom since I was eighteen, so this is a big change. But I won’t let you down.”
His gaze finds mine, another panty-dropping smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t doubt it, Paris. I look forward to watching you shine.”
Oh, dear heavens. I’m in trouble.