Playing Pretend with the Fullback

1. Chapter 1

Seren

How much anxiety was too much? Because I was dangerously close to whatever the clinical term was for spiraling while still pretending I had my life together.

I had exactly four days before I started my new job, a to-do list that multiplied every time I looked at it, and a two-and-half-year-old who had decided sleep was optional.

“Mommy,” Cai said, tugging my hand with urgent authority. “Big twuck!”

“A big truck?”

I followed the direction of his chubby little finger and, sure enough, just outside the window of the shop, there it was, parked at the curb.

My son’s innate ability to locate heavy machinery within a five-mile radius should have been studied.

Much like his ability to sense the exact moment my eyes closed at bedtime and immediately demand water, cuddles, or a full emotional debrief of his day.

“Stay with me, baby boy,” I murmured, tightening my grip on his hand. His tiny fingers were sticky, which you’d think would act like Velcro, but two things happened at once.

“Seren, extra hot latte with caramel cold foam,” the barista called out, and for a fleeting, almost spiritual moment, I considered how caffeine might have been the only thing holding my fragile grip on reality together.

Unfortunately, my son chose that exact moment to test the limits of my reflexes.

The coffee shop door swung open just as Cai twisted with sudden, slippery determination in my grasp, his sticky fingers sliding clean out of my hand as though he’d been massaging butter into his palms. Warm air rushed into the AC atmosphere as someone stepped inside, and in that split second of distraction, my son made a break for it.

Straight toward the open doorway, and the damn truck.

“Cai,” I shouted, already lunging forward, my coffee abandoned without another thought as maternal instinct overrode caffeine dependency in one violent surge.

He was quick for someone whose legs were approximately the length of a rugby ball.

Small sneakers slapped against tile, away from me, and my entire body jerked to follow him, my feet slipping on the tiled floor, as the bell above the door gave a final cheerful chime that felt wildly inappropriate for the catastrophe unfolding.

I knew the street beyond was busy, and all I could see was open road and my two-year-old charging toward it with fearless enthusiasm.

But Cai didn’t make it that far.

Because the person stepping through the doorway reacted faster than I did.

There was a blur of movement. A low, surprised laugh. And then a pair of very large, very capable hands scooping Cai clean off the ground before he could take another step, lifting him up and back in one smooth, effortless motion.

“Whoa there,” a warm, amused voice said, deep and rough around the edges. “What’s the rush, big guy?”

I skidded to a stop just inside, breath tearing in and out of my lungs as though I’d sprinted the length of the pitch. My heart hammered so hard it made my vision fog for half a second.

Cai, traitor that he was, was not screaming.

He was, in fact, delighted.

He blinked once at the man holding him, then grinned like he’d just unlocked a bonus level of existence.

“Twuck,” he announced proudly, pointing over the stranger’s shoulder toward the enormous vehicle parked at the curb, as though this entire incident had been a carefully orchestrated meet-and-greet.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted, the apology tumbling out of me in a rush of heat and humiliation as I stepped forward and took Cai back into my arms. My hands were already checking him over—face, arms, head—searching for some visible sign of the failure I felt flash through me like a lightning strike.

“He… He saw the door open and I—He doesn’t normally run like that,” I finished weakly, even though we both knew that was a lie of omission at best. “I mean, he does, but I’m usually—”

Faster. More prepared. Less of a walking cautionary tale.

Words tangled in my throat as adrenaline burned through me, leaving behind that awful, hollow aftershock where your body still thought something terrible had happened even when it hadn’t.

Cai squirmed happily against my chest, completely unbothered, still twisting to look at the truck as if near-death experiences were minor scheduling inconveniences in his day.

The man had straightened to his full height in front of me, hands lifting slightly in surrender as though to show he hadn’t been fazed in the slightest. Up close, he was taller than I’d first registered.

Broad shoulders, his shirt stretched across a chest that was peaked and impressive, wearing shorts that gave way to thick thighs.

His face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

“He’s quick,” he said lightly. “Good acceleration off the mark.”

I let out a breath that was half laugh, half shaky exhale. “Please don’t encourage him.”

His mouth tipped up at one corner, amusement flickering there, but his eyes tracked the entire length of me in one not-so-subtle swoop.

I shifted Cai higher on my hip, pressing my lips to the top of his head. He smelled faintly of pancakes, syrup, and sunshine, and my heart settled a fraction. He was fine.

“Twuck!” he suddenly shouted again, volume set permanently to maximum.

The man glanced over his shoulder, following the enthusiastic point, and something changed in his expression. For the first time since he’d caught my son, he looked almost…sheepish.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah. That’s—uh. That’s mine.”

Of course it was.

Of course the enormous, slightly aggressive-looking truck parked directly in front of the coffee shop belonged to the human equivalent of reinforced concrete. And my current savior.

“Yours?” I echoed with an arched eyebrow.

“Technically,” he replied, shifting his weight in a way that suddenly felt less composed and more adorably unsure. “I mean, I pay for it.”

“It’s very…” I searched for something polite. “…big.” Nope, that wasn’t polite. Judging by the way his eyes bugged out, I thought I’d stepped over a line. “Oh no, that’s not, I mean the car. It’s a very lovely truck.”

Way to be normal with the locals.

Our cheeks resembled the color of lobsters now, and I was desperate to stop the awkwardness, but neither of us seemed to know how.

“Well,” he said carefully, “if it helps, you’re welcome to come and have a look.” Then he choked and blurted, “At the truck, I mean.”

This was going swimmingly. I haven’t ever felt so awkward in all my life.

Cai wriggled again, chanting, “Twuck, twuck, twuck,” with the determination of a tiny protestor staging a one-child demonstration.

The man, who definitely was familiar the more I looked at him, laughed softly at that, then cleared his throat.

“And, uh…” He nodded toward the counter. “I think your coffee is still waiting for you. I kind of…interrupted the pickup.”

My gaze flicked back to the abandoned cup, and I wondered how this guy had the time to not only clock that I had a coffee untouched but also catch my son from demise.

“I can grab it,” he offered quickly. “Or—” He hesitated, then pushed through. “Or I can buy you another one to make up for all this.”

“You didn’t cause it,” I said automatically. Besides, to-go coffee cups kept things lava temperature for ages.

“Still feels like I should contribute to the recovery plan,” he replied, a hint of nervous humor threading through his voice. “Coffee seems like a reasonable first step.”

I shouldn’t have found that as disarming as I did, and then I realized he might want to buy me coffee. Huh, what a novelty.

Cai slapped my shoulder enthusiastically, still entirely focused on his mechanical soulmate.

The man met my eyes again, something open and hopeful lighting up his gaze, even beneath the easy charm.

“So,” he said, gesturing toward the glass door. “Truck tour and replacement caffeine?”

I bit the side of my lip, debating whether I’d lost my mind entirely, and his gaze dropped to the movement.

A picture from my brother’s social media sprung into my mind, and it dawned on me who this guy was.

Jake Ledger, the Knights fullback. Oh my god, I wasn’t ready to meet someone I’d be sharing a stadium with yet; I needed my life to be better than this very wild morning. So I swallowed the realization.

“You’re not going to kidnap us in your truck, are you? Because I’ll warn you, I’m a screamer.”

The words left my mouth innocently.

And then my brain caught up to them. I heard myself from outside my body and thought, Did I just say that out loud? To my brother’s teammate. A resounding chortling coming from this stranger told me yes.

I’d been possessed, I was sure of it. My pulse thudded in my ears louder than the coffee machine behind me. It was probably best that I become mute at this point.

“I—” he started, then stopped and swallowed a blooming smirk. “I can assure you,” he tried again, voice deeper than it had been ten seconds ago, “that kidnapping is not on the agenda.”

I pressed my lips together in what I hoped looked like composure.

“That’s good,” I managed. “Because I really don’t have time for that.”

“Go, Mommy, go!” Cai urged, trying to propel me forward.

So, I went, because at this point, what could possibly be worse than public humiliation, a toddler with no self-preservation instincts, and casually over-sharing suggestive intimate traits to a man with forearms like that?