Chapter 2
Johnson
“Dang J, that last throw was tight as fuck,” Bailey says as he jogs back towards me in my backyard. His rich umber skin is shiny with sweat, and I have to wipe my own hands on a towel at my waist, a sign of how hard we’re working.
Which is helpful in moments like this. Bailey is my first option at wide receiver on the Orlando Waves, our pro team, for the foreseeable future. The chemistry between us is critical, and our time together has been limited by my months spent away from Orlando.
I’d been back home in Alabama for most of the off-season, unexpectedly needing to stay for a while as my sister Lainie recovered from a tough pregnancy and birth.
My little nephew, Leo, ended up making it fine, but it was scary for all of us.
Lainie also has a four-year-old girl, Emma, and my mom moved in with her to help through it all.
Emma and Leo’s dad, Mark? Not my favorite person.
One of the reasons I stayed so long was that he was completely unhelpful, basically shrugging and raising his hands when it came to doing his part with the kids or the house.
His off-handed comments about women being better at that kind of stuff pissed me off to no end.
For my sister’s sake, I bit my tongue, but I also made sure before I returned to Orlando a few weeks ago that Lainie was fully recovered and Mom was in position to retire from teaching with my financial help.
“I worked out non-stop the last few months, when I was home. There’s not much else to do, and I’m aiming for nothing less than perfection this season.” I catch the ball as Bailey tosses it to me. “Even got my old high school trainer to help me.”
He nods. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. Let’s go again.”
Bailey counts off and then begins running a route we both like for deep balls. I mentally visualize pressure coming from the opposing side and then hurl the ball down the field.
Bailey catches it in the end zone, the ball hitting him right where it’s supposed to. Touchdown.
As he jogs back up, I walk to the sideline and pick up my phone. I’m still a little on edge about my family, so I don’t like to be out of touch for long.
There’s nothing from my mom or sister, but I do see a text from Landon, our starting middle linebacker on the Waves.
LANDON: Hey. Any chance you can have Rawley over to get some catches in while I’m gone? I’m sure he’s driving Grace nuts.
Landon’s in a secret situationship with a pro tennis star, Rori Reilly, and spending a few days in London sneaking around to see her while she competes at Wimbledon. I’m one of the few people who knows about them.
Landon and I got close during our three years at Bama, rooming together our junior year before we both got drafted.
Now I would say he’s my best friend. It was dumb luck that the Waves had two draft picks in the first round when we came out, because of a trade they’d done the year before.
We’ve been able to spend our first couple years in the pros building our friendship even stronger, carrying over from college.
It’s Landon I’ve explored the night scene here with, going to parties and clubs together.
Hanging at each other’s houses when we want to do something low-key.
Being twenty-one as rookies when we first arrived, it was hard to relate to the older guys.
It’s been awesome to have someone step into the whole NFL experience with me.
So it’s not a big surprise he’d ask me to help keep Rawley occupied while he’s gone. The way he’d asked for a different favor last year when Grace first moved here.
What he doesn’t know is how the skin tingles on the back of my neck at his mention of his sister—then and now.
JOHNSON: Sure, no problem. Send me his number?
Once he does, I text Rawley.
Only I can’t help myself. I make sure it’s clear that Grace is invited too.
Grace Battle. Shit, did I ever mess that up in college. When Landon first introduced her to me, I noticed that she was a total knockout, of course. But then I saw how smart, kind, and funny she was when we were all hanging out, and I paid attention in a different way.
Landon’s study group obligations on her final night visiting had put me in a bind. Could I manage to ignore the draw I had to her during our one time alone together?
Only it turned out she made the choice for us, and when she dared me to kiss her, my resistance faded. I had no regrets in that moment. The soft movements of her mouth, the feel of her body against mine, her sounds as she got off—hell, I can still remember them all like it was yesterday.
But then I acted like a scared deer in headlights once I found out she was a virgin. Freaked out as I processed what’d happened. I’d hooked up with my roommate’s little sister—who was likely much more inexperienced than I first knew.
Idiot. I probably would have recovered and not ended the night on such a dickhead moment, except then Landon came home.
And that evening has spiraled into a similarly screwed-up situation with Landon now.
Little did I know that he would turn into an NFL teammate, not just a college one—and my best friend. A best friend that less than a year ago asked me to make sure that no guy we know screws Grace over now that she lives in Orlando. I’d tried to ignore his request, but he forced the issue.
Well, let me make sure I don’t need to turn myself in.
Which is a special challenge because everything that made Grace attractive to me during her visit—it’s all still there, as far as I can tell.
Not that I can rely much on my first-hand experience with her. Grace has avoided me since she first moved to Orlando in the fall.
Granted, her arrival last year coincided with the beginning of the previous Waves season, so I’d been insanely busy too. We only saw each other in passing at Landon’s house or at some event that Landon brought her to.
And then after the season ended, it wasn’t long before I had to head to Alabama to help my family.
Theoretically, that would explain why we haven’t really connected, but beyond that, Grace has ducked away, turned away, walked away—all sorts of away’s—every time we’ve been in proximity.
We’re both over at Landon’s house? She suddenly leaves to go study.
At a party? She peaces out to meet a friend somewhere.
Hanging at the same bar? She moves across the room.
I’ve gotten the memo. Grace doesn’t want to talk to me.
Which is why I’m stunned thirty minutes later when Rawley drives up and Grace is in the passenger seat.
“Oh, shit, Johnson,” Rawley says as he closes the car door and walks up. “Thanks for having me over. I’ve tried to practice regularly during my visits, but to have you throw passes to me? A whole other level.”
His eyes are big and excited. I know he’s not always had the easiest time, despite his football talent. It’s gratifying to see him so affected by the chance to play today.
“No problem. I’m glad to have my backyard get some use. Have you met Bailey?”
Bailey steps forward and nods. “Yeah, we met last year when you were visiting Landon, I think.”
Rawley’s expression stays bright. “I remember.”
“I don’t watch as many college games as I like,” Bailey continues. “But I did see the highlights from your last bowl game. That one-handed catch on the three-yard line? Wooooooheeeee.” Bailey waggles his eyebrows to match his exaggerated tone.
Rawley and he start trading more compliments, and Bailey offers to show him some NFL-level routes. As they head off to mid-field, I finally let myself look back towards the driveway.
And there’s Grace, leaning against their car, watching me intently.
She’s stunning as always. Flowing blonde hair framing her face like a halo. Hazel eyes that look almost gold when the right light hits. Perfectly pink lips that promise soft warmth, if I could only taste them.
And her body. Fuck. The Grace I met in college had a classic runner’s body. Lean and strong. Head to toe, every inch of her slight, muscular frame reflecting her dedication to her sport.
Now, there’s a softness to her, her curves noticeably filled out a little over the last couple of years.
Well, it’s noticeable to me.
I know from Landon that she still runs all the time, and she’s undeniably super fit with long, lean lines. But I can’t help observing the extra flare in her hips, the rounder curve of her ass, the press of her tits against her shirt every time I see her now.
It’s not like I can forget what she looked like in college. Not after that night.
So, of course, I notice the changes now.
Today is no different. Nothing she’s wearing is deliberately seductive. But as I take in her fitted light orange polo over a knee-length khaki skirt, there’s never been anyone more alluring to me.
I don’t let those thoughts marinate, though. Nor would I let myself do anything about them. At this point, I have extensive practice stuffing my attraction down.
Landon’s sister. Landon’s sister. Off-limits.
My mantra. Made easier by her avoiding me for months. Only now she’s at my house.
I start moving in her direction, even as I repeat the mantra in my head. My legs are apparently unconvinced by those constraints. Instead, they lead me right to her presence.
“Hi, Johnson,” she says as I approach. There’s a subtle trace of caution in her voice, and I’m not sure why. She brings her right arm across her body, that hand grasping onto her left forearm.
“Hey, thanks for bringing Rawley.” I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Your invite came at the perfect time.” A small smile crosses her face. “We were about to have a tug of war over what to do with the rest of the day. Nothing better than getting Rawley out on a field.”
“Great.” Damn, I still can’t think of anything more interesting to say. Tongue-tied like a fifteen-year-old who’s scared of girls.
I throw out the only thing I can come up with. “Do you want to come inside and get something to drink? Bailey and Rawley look fully occupied.”
Her arm relaxes and drops back to her side. “Sure.”
We walk across the grass, and I shout out to the guys that we’re headed to grab a drink. I can’t help but watch Grace out of the corner of my eye as we step across the yard towards the back of my house, the long curtain of her blonde hair swaying, her legs striding with purpose.
“Your house is even bigger than Landon’s,” Grace observes with a little awe in her voice as we reach the door.
I get the reaction. Her family and mine grew up with the same middle-class background.
“Yeah, it’s a little over the top, but I wanted to find a home base that I wouldn’t have to leave as my career progresses.”
We make our way into the kitchen. As we near the fridge, I turn back to face her. Her eyes shift down for a beat before reclaiming eye contact. “It was really nice of you to invite us without Landon here.”
“You’re welcome anytime.” Oh wait. “I mean, any of you.”
“I haven’t been sure.” She stops herself abruptly on the last word.
Hmmm. She wasn’t sure she was welcome?
Shit, maybe she thinks I don’t want to hang out because of that night at school? The one I made messy?
I’d assumed that she’s avoided me because she isn’t interested in being around me. But if she was worried about whether I wanted her around—well, that would explain a lot of her behavior the last few months too.
“Yeah, anytime, really,” I say, trying to infuse warmth into my tone. She reacts with a small nod.
Remembering why we’re in the kitchen, I reach for the fridge door and turn my head back to her. “So I have sparkling water, lemon water, diet soda….”
“OH MY GOD, IT’S HIM,” a high-pitched voice screeches from the direction of my living room.
“JOHNSON SAMUELS,” a second piercing voice shouts.
My head jolts over in the direction of the sounds.
Two preteen girls are jumping up and down in front of my couch, hands-clasped, continuing to squeal.
Ah, my agent Aiden must be here, as expected. I recognize those two excited faces from a picture in his office. His nieces.