Just for Kicks by Tracy Solheim

Ten

* * *

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETES DID notpicnic like normal people. That was Andi’s first observation when she and Dex arrived at the Growler’s practice facility the following afternoon. Her second observation? She was incredibly underdressed.

Beneath the massive tent looming over the outdoor field, waitstaff decked out as referees passed through the crowd, handing out drinks and food. The guests themselves looked as if they’d just stepped from the pages of Town & Country magazine. Even the kids, their faces painted with big green G’s, looked like poster children for Abercrombie Kids.

As they drew closer to the giant tent, she began to drag her feet. Dex took two giant steps before noticing. He turned to her with a quizzical expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“You told me this was a ‘simple little picnic.’” She glanced around them trying to quiet the panic whirling within her. Holy hell. Was that an actual pony those children were riding? She’d felt out of her league since this whole charade began, but this? This was an alternate universe.

He closed the distance between them, his body shielding her from anyone who happened to look their way. “I did tell you it was a picnic. Because that’s what this is. A picnic.”

“Noooo.” The word came out as a near hysterical wheeze. “A picnic is a grill, some burgers, beer, and brats, with maybe a frisbee for fun and a blanket for . . . whatever.”

His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. “Well, as much as I’d like to discuss whatever the blanket is for, you’re right. This is not that type of picnic. Because it’s hosted by the team’s owner who likes to show off.” He had the nerve to grin. “And, as for frisbees, we don’t allow them any longer. Not since Kessler spoiled it for everyone by being too competitive and knocking our former head coach’s wife in the head. The sight of the caps from her two front teeth flying through the air is still fresh in everyone’s mind. It’s worrisome enough they continue to let him around the kiddos with their sparklers.”

“Just sparklers? I’m surprised they all don’t get their own light sabers.” She brought her hands up to her face. Her nerves had her breakfast threatening an instant replay any moment now.

He moved in closer. The amazing scent of his skin had her stomach churning for very different reasons suddenly.

“What is this really about, Andi?” he asked gently.

“Me!” She gestured to her worn white chucks, her cutoff jean shorts, and the Growlers T-shirt she’d bought the night before at a convenience store, before ending with her pink-dipped hair pulled to each side of her head in pig tails. “The people in there look like they’re attending a garden party with royalty while I look like . . . this!”

His eyes slowly tracked down her body from head to toe and back up again before he shrugged.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think it’s cute.”

Cute?! Cute was not going to allow her to fit in with these people. Not even close. And the next few hours would be another painful reminder of how she never would fit in. She hadn’t realized she was clutching her belly until Dex wrapped his arm around her and spun her back in the direction of his Jaguar.

“That’s it. I’m taking you home because if you keep holding yourself like that, people are going to wonder if you really are pregnant.”

Her stomach pitched even harder. But before they could even take a step, there was a male voice at her shoulder.

“Hold up there, Fletcher,” he said. “You’ve had all weekend with this young lady. It’s time you share her with the rest of us.”

Dex uttered something obscene sounding beneath his breath. Tightening his arm around her shoulders, he turned her back toward the tent.

“Actually, Coach Gibson, Andi’s not feeling all that well.”

Sympathetic green eyes carefully surveyed her before coming to some unknown conclusion. The other man’s appraisal was followed by a slow, unapologetic grin that had likely melted hearts—not to mention panties—for years. But she was more captivated by the young girl he held in his arms.

She was adorably dressed in a Lily Pulitzer dress with pink sandals. Her shoulder length hair was thick and so black in color, it was almost blue. But not as blue as her wide eyes. As soon as Andi looked her way, the child burrowed her head into the man’s shoulder.

“I can empathize.” The coach tickled the little girl’s chubby thigh. “This one suffers from shyness as well. She didn’t want to come at all, today. Even with the promise of pony rides. But when she saw the two of you on television, she changed her mind.”

The little girl peeked through her long, inky lashes at them.

“This is my daughter, Harper,” he explained. He gestured to the stuffed pink-haired troll doll his daughter had clutched to her side. “As you can see, she’s quite taken with people who have pink hair.”

Harper’s lips trembled slightly before the corners turned up in an impish smile. Just like that, the terror that had seized Andi evaporated.

“Daddy’s can be so silly sometimes, right Harper?” Andi said, returning the little girl’s smile. “Everyone knows Poppy isn’t a person. She’s a troll. She also happens to be the star of one of my favorite movies.”

Harper’s answering giggle renewed Andi’s confidence. She could do this. She would not let Dex down. Even if she only ended up making friends with a small child, that was enough. She was enough.

Coach Gibson pretended to look chastised. “Well, what does silly old dad know.” He kissed his daughter on the tip of her nose. “Can you and Poppy take our new friend over to meet Mommy?” Harper scampered down and the coach locked eyes with Andi. “Our son lost his battle with a tumbler of fruit punch and she’s getting him changed. As I told Dex yesterday, my wife, Merrit, is eager to meet you. She’ll introduce you around and get you sorted out with all the WAG’s activities.”

Confused, she looked from one man to the other. “Wags?”

Coach Gibson chuckled. “Wives and girlfriends. I’m not really sure how the acronym came about, but you’re one of their club now.”

“And they have a club? And . . . activities?”

No one had mentioned anything about her participating in activities with the other wives. Or girlfriends for that matter. Her nerves rumbled back into her stomach with speed. She looked over at Dex, who was strategically avoiding her gaze. Before she could call him out, Harper slipped her hand into Andi’s and tugged her toward the tent. With a glance over her shoulder that clearly said they’d be discussing this later, Andi moved to follow.

“Andi,” he called after them.

He stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure about this?” he murmured.

He was giving her an out. Not that she was surprised. Aside from the ridiculous persona he’d adopted for yesterday’s interview, he’d been nothing but chivalrous to her. It was heartening to know he wouldn’t ever take advantage of their situation.

Even when she sometimes wished he would.

“I’m good.”

He looked like he wanted to object, but he remained silent. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips next to her ear. “We’ll only stay as long as is politically necessary,” he whispered. “But if you need to go before then, all you have to do is say the word.”

The urge to sink into him nearly swept her off her feet. He must have felt the same way, because he sucked in a strained breath before squeezing her shoulder and stepping back. Determined not to fail at her role, she pasted on her game face and allowed Harper to lead her into the fray.

* * *

“DAMN,FLETCHER, WHAT did you say to make that new wife of yours all squinty-eyed at you?” Trayvon Dawes, the three-hundred-pound leader of the Growlers’ offensive line, asked as he handed Dex a can of cold beer.

Dawes and several other linemen quickly moved to form a circle around him while Coach Gibson and his little daughter led Andi away. Despite her reassurance she was fine, Andi looked as if she was being led on a perp walk instead of into a lavish party.

“Yeah, you’re doing it all wrong if your lady is miffed at you like that already,” Rolando Harris, the team’s most veteran player, added. The nose guard wasn’t shy about offering sage advice on any subject from which tape was better to protect your fingers during a game to which restaurants served the largest portions in every city.

Too bad Dex wasn’t in the mood to hear from Harris or any of his other teammates. He should have ignored Coach and taken Andi home.

“I didn’t say anything wrong,” he snapped.

The men surrounding him snorted like a bunch of bulls in a pasture.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.“I complimented her, damn it.”

Trayvon jerked his trio of chins up. “Complimented her how?”

Were these idiots serious?“What’s with the twenty questions? I told her she looked cute.” And she did. Unlike most of the other women here today, she was actually the only one who looked …real.

A chorus of groans echoed in his ears.

Trayvon slapped a meaty hand against his big head. “Dude, didn’t nobody teach you anything about women? Ladies over the age of thirteen don’t want to be ‘cute.’ They want to be hot.”

“Man, you went wide right on that kick,” Rolando added with a shake of his head. “It’s a good thing that your married teammates are here to help a brother out.”

Dex bit back a groan. Help from these goons was the last thing he wanted. He had no need for marriage advice because his situation was temporary and one that won’t ever be repeated. Not that he could tell his teammates that. He glanced around for an out, but the guys had already closed the circle around him.

Steve Jacobs, one of the Growlers wide-receivers who was married to his high school sweetheart and together had not one, but two sets of twins, sidled up closer. Dex had always made it a point to give Jacobs a wide berth for fear that the other man’s happy domesticity—not to mention his fertility—was contagious.

“Women speak a different language than we do, Fletcher,” Jacobs explained. “The sooner you understand it, the happier your wife will be. And you know what they say, happy wife, happy life.” He slapped Dex on the shoulder.

Dex scanned the crowd, growing more desperate for an escape route. His gaze landed on Andi. She was surrounded by the wives of several of the men currently holding him captive. She looked about as miserable as he felt.

“For instance, when she asks you if her clothes look good on her,” Jacobs was saying.

“Or ‘Does this outfit makes my butt look big?’” Trayvon interjected with a shrill voice in a ridiculous attempt to imitate a woman.

“The answer is always no,” his teammates chorused.

“Never ask ‘Are you gonna eat that?’” someone said, eliciting a few groans and shuffled feet from the guys. “And she can take anything she wants off your plate, but you better not touch her plate.”

“Yeah, never eat the last cookie, man.” Trayvon shuddered.

Another one of his teammates piped up. “And if there’s ever a disagreement between her momma and her, always side with your wife.”

“But don’t make my mistake,” one of the guys added. “Don’t go trash talking her mother or her sister or her girlfriends. Only she can do that. Your best bet is to nod and say ‘sure, baby’ every freaking time.”

“Trust us, ‘sure baby’ or ‘yes dear’ will keep you out of a lot of trouble, my friend.” Trayvon slapped Dex on the back.

“And,” Rolando announced. “Whenever you ask her what’s wrong and she says ‘nothing,’ something is always wrong.”

The men surrounding him all nodded solemnly.

“Or if she says ‘I’m fine’…” Jacobs added.

“She’s not fine!” the guys chorused.

Did they take him for a fool? Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Van Horn sauntered up to Andi, swiftly culling her from the herd of wives and pulling her aside. Dex wanted to be grateful to his friend for her rescue, but the muscles at the back of his neck tightened painfully for no reason. Reminding himself that jealousy had no place in their fake marriage, he willed himself to relax and participate in the conversation.

“Give me some credit, lads. I’ve been around a woman or two before.”

“Yeah, but never for more than a week at a time,” Trayvon remarked. “None of them ever stuck before this one. I gotta wonder if you might have driven a few of the ladies off with your surly, Highlander demeanor.”

“Nah. I’m guessing it was his skirt that sent all those other women running.” Kessler made his way into the circle carrying a watermelon beneath each arm.

Dex’s teammates were really starting to piss him off. And if Kessler had come to toss in his two-cents with this bunch of henpecked buffoons, one of those watermelons was headed straight up his arse.

His friend must have sensed his agitation because he promptly steered the conversation in a different direction. “But enough about the newlyweds, fellas. You can school him on the best topics for pillow-talk later. It’s time to see who can long-snap a watermelon the farthest. The winner gets the pot donated to his favorite charity. Palmer’s taking bets, so you’d better hurry or you’ll be left out.”

To Dex’s relief, his teammates took the bait and all scattered.

“You’re welcome.” Kessler tossed one of the watermelons at him.

“Aye. Thanks for the rescue. But I don’t have time for any of your games today. I need to find my wife.” He tried to shove the watermelon back to his friend, but the asshole wouldn’t take it.

“Your mistake for leaving her alone. Don’t worry, though. Van Horn took her under his wing. Last time I checked she was mooning over his high cheek bones.” He juggled the watermelon between his agile hands.

Dex snapped his head around to where Andi and Van Horn were standing a moment ago. They were no longer there. Damn it. He nearly dropped the watermelon in agitation.

Kessler laughed. “Relax, asshole. She’s not Van Horn’s type. Of course, I wouldn’t have guessed she was your type, either. I still say you won her in that poker game.”

“Go play with your melons, Kessler.” Dex chucked the watermelon at the wide-receiver, his annoyance growing when his friend deftly caught it with one hand.

“Huh. I would have bet the odds of you being smitten with a woman were a million to one. I missed a windfall not offering a bet on that one.” Kessler shook his head as he walked away. “Like I keep sayin’, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch.”

Dex didn’t have time to debate the word “smitten” with the twit. He needed to find Andi. No doubt Van Horn had lured her off somewhere to interrogate her. The quarterback hadn’t bothered to disguise the fact he didn’t believe Dex’s explanation about their relationship. He hated being wrong more than he hated throwing a pick-six. Van Horn’s arrogance was just what was needed on the field, not so much away from it. Andi was already uncomfortable enough. The last thing she needed was to be grilled by the team’s quarterback just so the cocky arse could prove he was right. He charged toward the tent to find his wife, telling himself his concern was driven by the fear she might compromise their situation, not by any sort of jealousy.

What he hadn’t counted on was the number of people wanting to congratulate him on his marriage and wish him well. It seemed everyone had tuned into the morning show that day. As Kurt predicted, no one had any lingering doubts about Dex and Andi’s marriage. No one except Van Horn, that is.

Where the hell could they be?He quickly worked the tent from one side to the other, not finding either his wife or Van Horn.

“Such a lovely young woman,” the wife of the team owner commented as she pumped his hand. “I loved the sizzle between you two this morning.”

Sizzle?He bit back a groan. “You haven’t seen my wife around lately, have you, Mrs. Ciaciura?”

“Last I saw, the coach’s wife was spiriting her off toward the offices inside,” the woman replied. “But when you find her, do bring her over to chat in person. I’d love for her to join us in the owner’s box at a game sometime this season.”

He didn’t bother trying to explain the relief he felt that Andi was no longer with Van Horn. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to join you in your box for the game. I’ll just go find her and bring her over to say hello. Then you two can sort out all of the arrangements.”

With a peck on Mrs. Ciaciura’s cheek, he headed in the direction of the training facility.

“That’s not a good idea,” Van Horn said as he fell into step beside him.

Dex jerked to a stop. “What the hell are you talking about? And what did you do with my wife?”

“I saved her from the she-wolves.” Van Horn kept on walking. “Coach’s wife turned around for a minute to deal with her son and they circled around her like a pod of sharks.”

“I can relate,” Dex mumbled as he resumed his march toward the building. “The guys weren’t much better.”

“Except ‘the guys’ will do anything to protect your Scottish ass, not to mention your million-dollar leg.” He gestured back to the crowded tent. “Some of those women are hell bent on tearing other women down. Especially one as innocent as your—” He made quotation marks with his fingers. “Wife.”

Once again Dex jerked to a stop, this time glancing around to make sure no one was in hearing distance. The two men stood equal distance between the party tent and the training center.

“She is my wife,” he growled. “Do I have to show you the bloody marriage license for you to believe me?”

Van Horn waved him off. “I believe you, Fletcher. But don’t feed me that bullshit that you would have married her anyway. Not after you spent years swearing off anything close to love. I’ll admit, Andi is a sweetheart, but even she isn’t enough to melt that frigid heart of yours. You forget who you’re talking to. We’re on the same page of the playbook where love and serious relationships are concerned.”

He opened his mouth to object, but Van Horn held up his hand.

“Look, I don’t care how this all went down. And I’m with Kessler. You do what you have to do to stay on the team. Winning is the most important thing. Period.” Van Horn crossed his arms over his chest. “But don’t think you’re going to use that woman as a prop and leave her to her own defenses. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

Not gonna let that happen?Who the bloody hell did he think he was? It was all Dex could do not to deck the man who’d been something of a best friend to him for the past seven years. Not to mention the thought of Andi being defenseless against him was laughable.

“You obviously didn’t see our interview this morning.” He managed to grind the words out through his tight jaw.

Van Horn had the nerve to laugh. “Oh, I saw it. Props to her for the whole woolly mammoth portrait she painted of you. And isn’t it a miracle how she overcame her stutter so quickly.”

Dex flipped him off.

“But it’s not you she needs to worry about,” Van Horn continued. “You’d never hurt her purposely. Anyone who knows you knows that.” He glanced back toward the tent. “It’s them you need to worry about. She’s an innocent when it comes to the circus that surrounds us. Suddenly she’s thrust into the position of a superstar player’s wife. There will be haters. And don’t expect the sorority of WAGs to jump to her defense.”

Dex felt a knot form in his chest as the quarterback’s words sunk in. “The whole purpose of doing the bloody interview was to shut down any further talk.”

Van Horn nodded. “It may have worked for the fans and some media, but Andi’s sudden fame as the Growler’s most interesting wife didn’t sit well with the WAGs. It’s bad enough the new coach’s wife has declared herself Andi’s bestie. But now an invitation to the owner’s box? I can’t remember the last time Mrs. Ciaciura singled out a player’s wife. Can you?”

Dex dragged his fingers through his hair. He never paid attention to those things. But Van Horn was always on, always surveying the playing field, whether it was during an actual game or in real life. If his friend was concerned, he had reason to be.

“Fletcher, if the plan was to keep people from questioning your sudden marriage to Andi, it may have backfired.”

Fuck.