“Hello, gentlemen.”

  “Don’t look so pleased, kiddo,” Harlan says, but I can tell the guy is trying valiantly to come across like a hard-ass.

  Newsflash—he’s failing. He’s such a marshmallow.

  I give an easy shrug as I stretch my quads. “Pleased? Me? Why ever would I look pleased?”

  I’m so pleased.

  Harlan rolls his eyes, shakes his head, pushes up from the weight bench. “Let me get my wallet. I’ve got a Benjamin. I presume you take cash for your bets, duckling?”

  Time to mess with him again. “Sure . . . if you don’t want to do Bitcoin.”

  Harlan rolls his eyes.

  Cooper hoots. “Oh man. Jason, you better watch it. You don’t want to piss off the King of the Jungle.”

  Actually, he’s dead-on. I don’t want to tick off Harlan or Cooper. I like this pack of friends I’ve made in the NFL, and I damn well want to keep them. They’re good guys, and the world doesn’t have enough of those.

  “Actually, we’re all good,” I say to the receiver. “You can just buy me coffee next time we hang out.”

  Harlan laughs. “You hate coffee, and I always make good on my bets.” Then he inhales deep, squares his shoulders, and says, “You were right, Jason. Workout dates are awesome.”

  I wiggle a brow. “They’re the best.”

  “Workout dates are the absolute best,” he adds, barely able to suppress a grin. “God, I love workout dates so much. Apparently, I was having workout dates all along, and they were great. You knew it, kid,” he says, poking my chest. “You fucking knew it.”

  I give a sly smile. “I know some things,” I say, even though my last workout date didn’t pan out.

  We just didn’t spark like I wanted, like I’ve sparked with others in the past.

  With one other guy.

  One I wouldn’t mind sparking with again.

  “Yes, you do,” Harlan says, then pays up. I pocket the dough, and the three of us lift weights, shooting the breeze as we go.

  When we finish, I’m getting ready to head to the Hawks training facility for practice when the door swings open to the gym.

  And someone I used to know walks in.

  Someone who definitely makes me spark.

  Trouble is, he’s also my rival.

  33

  EMERSON

  Early February

  I whistle with approval as Katie holds up a sparkly fuchsia Renegades sweatshirt. “Is this the winner?”

  It’s the top for her to wear tonight, for many reasons. “Perfection. The sparkles are so very you. Plus, you totally look like a WAG,” I tell her as I kick my foot back and forth in our Vegas hotel room.

  “I’m not a WAG for much longer,” Katie says, but she doesn’t sound wistful. She sounds happy, like she’s been about, oh, say, pretty much everything these last few months. She turns to the other person in the room. “And I guess you’re not a . . . what . . . much longer?”

  Abby giggles. “I’m not a KAP after tonight. Kids and pets,” she adds as she ties the shoelaces on her royal blue Converse sneakers, the team colors.

  “Wait. Kids and pets of sports stars go together like wives and girlfriends?” Katie asks the cutie-pie perched on the end of a king-size bed.

  “Yes, because pets are important too. Like the pony you and my daddy might get me someday,” she says, batting her lashes.

  I hold up a hand to high-five the seven-year-old. “Work it.”

  “I’m trying. I swear I’m trying,” Abby says.

  Once she tugs on her sweatshirt, Katie goes over and bops Abby on the nose. “You sure are trying. And trust me, I’ll campaign pretty hard too, once your daddy retires.”

  Abby pumps a fist. “Yes.”

  I point to the bed. “Sit,” I tell my best friend. “I need to touch up your makeup.”

  Katie’s eyes turn serious, her forehead creasing. Hmm. Is she remembering the last time I did her makeup? Her wedding day that never happened?

  Well, today couldn’t be more different.

  I can’t wait.

  “I’m just going to make you pop for TV. You know the cameras are going to be on us,” I tell her and Abby. But I shake a finger at the adorable kiddo. “No makeup for you.”

  “I know,” Abby says, then stares intently as I powder Katie’s nose, dust on some blush, and give my friend a smoky eye.

  “Are you excited for today?” I ask breezily, doing my best to keep my tone casual.

  “I’m excited and insanely nervous,” she says, fiddling with a friendship bracelet in Renegades colors that Abby made her. Abby wears a matching one. “I can’t even imagine how he feels, playing in his last game.” She flashes me a smile. “Except, I can. He’s told me.”

  “And how does Mister Harlan Taylor feel?”

  “Ready,” she says with a crisp nod and a smile. “Like the timing is totally right.”

  Abby pops up from the bed. “I need to use the little girls’ room. ’Scuse me.”

  She rushes to the restroom and shuts the door. “And speaking of timing, thank you again for babysitting her in your room tonight,” Katie whispers, nodding to the bathroom. “Tonight might be the night.”

  She has no idea.

  I just grin. “Happy to help.”

  “And what about for you? How’s everything with you and Nolan? You looked so cozy in your last episode.” She says it like she’s leading a horse to water and wants me to drink up a whole stream.

  As I swipe on her mascara, I smile softly. I’m not drinking from that river. No way. “We’re just friends. The show is going great. We’re landing new sponsors. He’s my friend and my co-host.”

  “That’s what you say now,” Katie teases.

  “That’s what I’ll always say,” I add.

  But when Nolan, all broad shoulders and smoldering gaze, joins us as we head to the stadium for kickoff, I wonder how long always will be.

  It’s like he gets better looking every day.

  Sexier every night.

  More dangerous by the hour.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he says, then drops an arm around my shoulders.

  A friendly arm.

  Since he’s a friendly guy.

  A friendly guy who, every now and then, makes me think dirty thoughts.

  I shove those all out of my head, though, because it’s game time, and I’ve got a job to do.

  EPILOGUE

  Katie

  Four Hours Later

  I’ve lost my voice, and I don’t care.

  We are all going wild in our fifty-yard-line seats. If I thought the noise at the December game was eardrum-crushing, that has nothing on the Super Bowl.

  Pretty sure half the noise is coming from our crew.

  Harlan offered to get us all a suite, but we opted for a row instead. So I’m cheering as the clock winds down. Abby’s by my side, along with Emerson, Nolan, Jillian, Olive and Zachary, my dad, and Harlan’s buddy Jason—Jason’s team didn’t make it to the big game—as well as some of my new favorite people—my boyfriend’s mom and his sisters.

  His mom is a fabulous Southern gentlewoman, all sass and manners, with lungs the size of a hot-air balloon. No one has shouted louder for her son.

  “C’mon, run it in, sweetie-pie,” she shouted when Harlan caught a pass in the third quarter.

  Sweetie-pie.

  I nearly fainted from cuteness. But I will not faint, because we have plans for tonight. Timing matters when it comes to baby-making, and I stopped taking birth control in December. I’m moving in with him when we return to California, but tonight—fingers crossed—I’m ovulating.

  We decided, why wait?

  We both know what we want.

  To grow this family.

  I squeeze Abby’s hand harder as the Renegades defense holds the other team to only a yard.

  It’s third down.

  The game is nearly over.

  My man’s team is in the lead.

  If the Renegades defense can shut the other team down for good.

  On the next play, the opposing quarterback lobs a Hail Mary pass that makes my heart crawl up my throat.

  But there’s no one open, and just like that, my boyfriend wins his third Super Bowl!

  “Daddy!” Abby shouts, thrusting her arms in the air.

  “He’s the best,” I cheer, elated and euphoric, along with the rest of my friends.

  Confetti falls.

  Music blares.

  And the winners rush to celebrate on the field.

  It’s wild and exhilarating, and since I feel like I’m dancing in the sky, I can’t even imagine the emotions swirling through the man I love.

  A few minutes into our sideline celebration, Emerson grabs my arm then nods at Abby.

  “Look who’s here.”

  Emerson tugs me, and Abby by extension, to the sidelines. In a flash, I’m grinning and I can’t stop.

  My guy is there for us, waiting, like he was a few months ago after the game in San Francisco.

  Harlan reaches for me, and I hop down into his arms. Emerson lifts up Abby, and Harlan scoops her into his arms next. “Hey, little bear, what did you think? Was that boring?”

  “Not at the end when you won,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  As he holds his little girl, he turns his gaze to me. “Did I go out in style or what?”

  “You sure did,” I say, beaming. “I am so proud of you.”

  “Good. Because this is the perfect time to ask you something.”

  What on earth does he have to ask me on the field teeming with reporters and teammates and Gatorade and noise and music, and . . .

  My hand flies to my mouth.

  Harlan has dropped down to one knee.

  Abby squeals.

  The sweaty, game-winning guy of my dreams has a velvet box in his hand, and I’ve no idea where it came from. Emerson? But who cares, because he’s talking.

  Loud and clear.

  “I love you so much, Katie Madigan. And I planned to ask you this whether we won or lost, because you’re what I want beyond this moment. For all time. For always. I love you madly. Will you marry me tonight?”

  I blink, stunned.

  Utterly stunned.

  “Tonight?” I croak.

  Abby cheers. “Say yes, say yes, Katie!”

  I laugh, and the sound is chased by sobs, and holy hell, I’m crying.

  “Yes, Katie. Tonight. We’re in Vegas. Our friends and family are here. I want you to be my wife, and I want us to be a family, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  You know what?

  He makes the most excellent points.

  I fall to my knees, join him on the grass, and wrap my arms around him. “Yes. I say yes. Let’s do it.”

  Abby jumps up and down, and we both pull her in for a hug.

  Sometime after midnight, we make it to the chapel at The Extravagant with a yawning seven-year-old and the whole crew.

  “Told you the pink sparkly sweatshirt was the way to go,” Emerson says with a wink as I walk in wearing a simple white dress.

  The sneak.

  She’d packed the dress and handed it to me when we returned to the hotel to shuck off my game clothes so I could put on this.

  Now, she’s holding a bouquet of tiger lilies. “And these.”

  I clutch them close to my heart, then walk down the aisle and pledge to love Harlan Taylor for the rest of my life.

  When the justice of the peace turns to the groom, decked out in one of his tailored suits, and asks if he’ll love, cherish, and honor me for the rest of his days, he says, so easily, so happily, “I do.”

  He says it with love and passion and trust.

  That’s all I could ever want.

  EPILOGUE

  Harlan

  More than a year later

  I whip up eggs for my wife. Brew her some coffee. Slice her a peach. Set the goodies on the breakfast plate as she nurses the baby.

  What a sight.

  Katie looks so good as a mom. Who would have thought?

  Well, this guy.

  Katie looks good doing pretty much everything.

  And she’s aces at doing most stuff too, so she’s mastered parenting already.

  “Look at you. Such a pro in no time,” I say when the baby finishes, and Katie burps her on her shoulder.

  “Yes, sign me up for five more,” she quips as she pats our daughter’s back.

  “Don’t tempt me,” I say drily, then set the plate in front of her. “Gimme Mia. I need some snuggles.” I make grabby hands, and Katie gives me the baby.

  Our five-month-old makes the sweetest sigh as I hold her close. “There. Wasn’t that delicious?” I glance at Katie, nodding to her plate. “Now, eat your breakfast, sweetheart. You have a busy day teaching those ballplayers downward dog. Bet they’re not as fun as football players.”

  “Of course they aren’t.” She takes a bite of the eggs. Once she swallows, she holds up her fork to make a point. “But I’m also not in love with any of them.”

  “Good, let’s keep it that way.”

  “I will,” she says, as the rush of Converse-clad feet echoes from upstairs.

  “No running indoors, Abby,” I call out.

  The sound slows. “Sorry. Just getting ready.”

  “Well don’t run the forty-yard dash.”

  “She’s excited for school today,” Katie says as she clears her plate. “She and Audrey and Gabriella and Caroline are doing a presentation on why gymnastics rocks. She practiced it with me last night. It’s about three PowerPoint slides long, and it’s awesome.”

  I smile. “That does sound awesome. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

  Once Katie sets the plate in the dishwasher, she moves behind me, plants a soft kiss on my hair, then scurries upstairs to our room to get ready to teach yoga to the San Francisco Dragons.

  After that, she’ll make some videos, and then work with Olive and Zachary.

  When she rushes downstairs, she calls behind her, “You’ll do great, Abby! Love you.”

  “Love you, Katie,” Abby shouts.

  Then my wife returns to me, kisses my cheek, and gives Mia a big hug. “Miss you already, sweetie,” she whispers to our little girl.

  I walk Katie to the door, hand her her purse and phone, then steal another kiss—a lingering, sweet kiss that makes me think of the dirty things I’ll do to her tonight.

  “Mmm. Later, I want to strip you out of those yoga clothes,” I say, eyeing her salaciously.

  She leers right back at me. “Do you have any idea what you do to my ovaries when you talk dirty while you hold our baby?”

  “I do,” I say. “I definitely do.”

  She grabs one more quick kiss. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  She leaves, and I shut the door behind her. After I clean up, I grab a BabyBjörn, strap it on my chest, and put Mia in it as Abby bounds downstairs.

  “I’m ready for school!”

  “Let’s do it, little bear.”

  Abby grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulders, and we leave the house like that. With Mia on my chest and Abby holding my hand, I walk my oldest child to school.

  And then I’ll spend the day with my youngest.

  And the night with the love of my life.

  Now that’s winning.

  ***

  Eager for Jason’s story? Who is the guy who walked into the gym? Learn more about that spark in the rivals-to-lovers sports romance THE BOYFRIEND COMEBACK! A preview follows and you can order it everywhere.

  But wait! There’s more! I wrote a brand new sexy sports romance in the Ballers & Babes world! Be sure to preorder TWO A DAY and indulge in some dirty talking, sex challenges, sex hacks, text mishaps, surprise twists and a forbidden romance between a player and the sexy woman in the executive suite! Be sure to grab TWO A DAY!

  And sign up for my mailing list to be the first to know when swoony, sexy new romances are available or on sale!

  Curious about Emerson’s romance with Nolan? Their friends-to-lovers, only-one-bed-in-the-room romance sparks hot with a spicy one-night-stand that complicates everything! Find Shut Up and Kiss Me everywhere!

  You’ve met Jason in A Wild Card Kiss and heard from him in his epilogue. Want the first ever sneak peek of his love interest in THE BOYFRIEND COMEBACK? Here’s Beck…his rival!

  Beck…

  I’m not ready for this night to end. “I don’t mind,” I say, and it’s a borderline plea. “You helped me, so it’s the least I can do.”

  Jason takes a moment to weigh my offer, then with a friendly smile, he says, “If you insist.”

  He opens the dishwasher, and we fall into a rhythm. After I rinse off the plates at the sink, I hand them to him and he lines them up in the rack. We’re a couple feet away — close but not too close.

  I want to be closer.

  As I near the end of the stack of plates, time starts to tick faster. The night is going to end soon. I’ll need to leave. The pressure to learn if he’s attracted to me mounts. As I hand him the final plate, I let my fingers graze the tips of his.

  He flinches in surprise. But the slight hitch in his breath tells me the surprise isn’t a bad one.

  Do I keep going?

  When Jason closes the dishwasher, another minute has slipped by. I try to figure out how to move this evening to something else.

  Something daring.

  I can’t stop thinking about his mouth. Or his chest, and the way I might feel if I could touch him.

  Jason grabs a Tupperware container from the counter, puts it in the fridge. I reach for another one, slide past him to set it on a shelf. My arm nudges his.

  A flash of desire rushes through me from the contact. I close my eyes for a hot second then open them.

  When he shuts the fridge, he’s not looking past me, around me, anywhere but me. Fuck. I’m making this worse with my unsophisticated touches. I’m making him uncomfortable now.