Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (44 page)

“They don’t respect
me.” The beer soaked through my shirt. I swore. “Think they can jerk me around.
They think I’m trouble, just like her.”

“Who?”

“Kiss.”

“Your girl?”
Bryon laughed. “Dude, she got you so whipped you can’t even see straight.
She
’
s
the reason you can’t get respect. You’re Jack
Mother-Fucking
Carson.
You don’t
apologize
for taking three sluts home. You don’t dress in
prissy-ass suits and pretend you’re some high-class wannabe. You gotta be
yourself
to get any respect. If they know they can make you grovel…” Bryon ordered me
another beer to replace the one soaking into my suit. “Fuck dude, you might as
well castrate yourself.”

He had a point.
Of course, it completely countered Leah’s school of thought.

But not like
playing by the rules got me anywhere. I was entering into the last year of my
contract for a team who expected me to lead them beyond a championship and into
a
dynasty
. But the bastards didn’t even offer to extend the terms. If I
ate a sack, broke an arm, and was out for the season,
fuck me
. That was
it. No one had a reason to sign me the following year if they thought I’d be
damaged.

The linemen were
drunk already. They beat the pinball machine in the corner. It ate their
quarter, and, apparently, that deserved two boots through the side of the machine.
A fist pounded on top of the glass. The waitress hurried over to ask if they
needed help.

I saw it
happening, but I was too slow to stop it.

One of my men
picked her up by the waist, sat her on the pinball machine. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby.
Game’s broken. How about if I twist your buttons tonight?”

“Let go of me!”
She slapped him. “Now!”

I shouted to my
lineman, but some knight-in-shining armor hopped up from the bar and crashed
into the private room. He called to my linemen, but he was just some college-aged
punk who really should have looked to see who the fuck he was harassing.

I hopped from
the table as the swearing started.

“Lay off her,
man!” The kid charged.

I pushed him
away. Both of my linemen roared. I yelled, but unless I was in a uniform in
front of eighty thousand screaming fans, they couldn’t give a damn what I said
when pussy was on the line.

I threw my
weight at both three hundred pound men, but it wasn’t my teammates I should
have avoided. Served me right trying to prevent them from pummeling the
asshole.

The douche
heaved a punch aimed for one of the guys.

He
missed
.

He clocked me in
the cheek, narrowly missing my nose but crunching everything else valuable I
liked on my face. I took a lot of hits harder than that, but usually I was in
full pads. I staggered a bit, swearing. I didn’t have time to stop the rest of
my team from charging.

In seconds the
bar delved into chaos.

And, within
minutes, flashing lights and sirens raged into the parking lot.

I hoped Leah had
a long flight. This bullshit wasn’t gonna look good for me.

Neither would
the handcuffs slapped over my wrist.

Chapter Fifteen – Leah

The airport made
me sick.

The flight made
me sick.

Worrying about
getting
sick made me sick.

Just about the
only thing that
didn’t
make me sick was three thousand miles away back
at home. For some reason, the morning sickness faded when I tucked into Jack’s
arms.

I wasn’t about
to face the consequences of that little revelation. I suffered enough emotions
and feelings and confusion when he touched me without actually needing his
embrace to survive an upset stomach.

Still, Jack
wasn’t as nice as a ginger ale and some saltines. Our flight was direct but
took forever. They served a dinner that didn’t agree with me or the baby.
Jolene’s gloopy spaghetti was bad enough, but the Salisbury steak they tried to
give me almost ended up in her lap as I darted to the bathroom again.

I had no idea
how long she’d think it was the flu, but I hoped I could cover for a bit
longer. The baby was exciting, absolutely the greatest secret I had ever kept,
but damn…it was hard to manage the little goober, the father goober, and this
new potential deal. Everything was riding on this meeting, and an unwedded
mother’s morning sickness would not sign contracts if they found out.

Fortunately, we
had our own hotel rooms. Jolene checked into hers while I camped out in the
bathroom. I leaned on the tub and contemplated either a cold shower or an ice
cream sundae. I just wished I could snuggle under the blankets where the nausea
and jet lag couldn’t get me. But Jolene ordered me to go over the details once
more before we met our prospective clients for breakfast.

It wasn’t a
glamorous job—yet. But maybe once we helped to present a deal that’d give the
studios tax breaks for filming in Ironwood, I could finagle a part as an extra
in some fun action movie.

Except…I’d
probably be pregnant.

Really,
really
pregnant.

I cupped my
stomach, a greeting to the little one I hid. Jack had tucked a rattle inside my
carry-on. It wasn’t a great find with my boss at my side, but it was too cute—a
sponsored Rivets toy painted with Jack’s number.

If the baby
could just keep a low profile and let me make it through the breakfast
tomorrow, we’d be good. But it was Jack’s baby, and he certainly didn’t know
the meaning of
low profile.

My phone buzzed.
I groaned and checked the text.

Jolene’s text
was practically seething. I was sick before I finished reading it.

Jack Carson was
ARRESTED at a bar fight tonight

“Son of a—”

I washed my face
and tried to hide the flush of morning-sickness as she pounded on my door. I
let her in. She grabbed the remote without a word and flipped to the sports
channels.

There he was.

Clear as day.

My baby’s
father, the ultimate Jack-ass.

He stood outside
a
police station
, surrounded by his asshole teammates and the media.
Jack didn’t have his agent, his lawyer, or me there to answer his questions.

“What the hell
is he doing?” I sunk onto the bed. “I told him to stay at
home
!”

The live feed
probably had a television delay. Even if I had a chance, he wouldn’t hear my
call. I resisted the urge to toss the phone. I didn’t have the arm strength to
heave it three thousand miles to knock him in the head.

Jack faced the
media and flashed his usual arrogant smirk when he thought people over-reacted.
No remorse in his voice, no apologies. Just straight-up cocky charm that
wouldn’t win over anyone.

It had only been
a couple
hours
. How did he get
arrested in a few hours
?

And why did he
have a
black-eye
?

Jack spoke,
waving away a question from a reporter. The motion was condescending, not
disarming. He had the social skills of a drunken toddler.

“
Look,
everyone
.” He spoke, and the crowd hushed. Jolene cranked the volume up. “
It
was a misunderstanding
.”

“Jack, shut up,
shut up, shut up...” I repeatedly called his phone and prayed I wouldn’t throw
up. “Just shut up.”

“
We were out
having a good time, just celebrating, things got out of hand. No charges were
filed. Everything’s fine. Calm your asses down
.”

“Oh, God.” I
lowered my head into my hands.

Jolene stared at
me, her arms crossed. “Do you have
any
idea what he’s done? The league
is going to expel him for sure. You were supposed to be watching him!”

“I
am
watching him.”

“And the first
night you’re out of town, he goes out looking for women?”

The thought
clenched my chest. Now I would be sick. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you
really
trust him?”

Jolene’s phone
buzzed and beeped and chimed. It set my nerves on edge. Who knew what sort of
information she was getting, but I had to defend him.

“I
do
trust him,” I said. “I just don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut when I
should be the one talking for him.”

The impromptu
press conference pissed Jack off, but he refused to push through the crowd. I
knew he did it for me. The last thing we needed was anyone else accusing him of
breaking cameras or causing more trouble. The media pressed tighter. His temper
snapped.

A reporter
tossed a microphone in his face. “
Why were you out partying tonight, Jack
?”

Jack grimaced. “
We
weren’t partying. We were just out for a few hours
.”

“
What about
the fight, Jack
?”

He shrugged. “
Just
a misunderstanding. It’s okay. No problems
.”

Another reporter
crashed into his side. “
How’d you get the black-eye, Jack
?”

“
Wrong place,
wrong time
.”

“
Thought the
coach and league told you not to go out anymore
?”

His patience
wore out. “
I’m a grown fucking man
.”

The station
didn’t bleep it in time. I groaned. There was another apology he’d hate to
make.

“
I can go
where I want, when I want
,” he continued. “
I don’t need league approval
when I want to go out with a group of friends to celebrate
.”

“This is bad…”
Jolene bit her nails. She broke into the mini-fridge and offered me a small
bottle of alcohol. I took it before I realized what I did. She didn’t watch,
and I rested it on the bed beside me. “He needs to get out of there.”

The reporters
closed the gap he tried to sneak through. “
What were you celebrating, Jack
?”

The irritation
and stress cracked him. He wove through the crowd of reporters and forced an
exit. The question repeated five or six times from different outlets before he
made it to the car and a police officer held the crowd back. Finally he turned,
offering the media vultures a cold smile.

“
I was out
celebrating because I’m going to be a father. You all ruined the night. Thanks
.”

Oh.

God.

No
.

The remote
slipped from Jolene’s hand. She whipped around to stare at me, grabbing the
alcohol bottle from the bed. She downed both.

“He’s…” She
covered her face. “You’re…”

I wasn’t about
to explain the how or why. I couldn’t, especially now that our little secret
had given us something better than whatever relationship we constructed for his
reputation.

I nodded and
looked down. “It’s…still early.”

“You’ve been
sick for two weeks.” Her words trailed off.  “Oh,
Leah
. How could this
happen?”

“It’s okay.”

“You had your
life
planned
.”

“Really, it’s
okay. We can handle it.”

“You can.” She
pointed to the television. “This man
can’t
. Do you have any idea how
this is going to look?”

“He’s thrilled
about the baby, Jolene.”

“He’s a cocky
son of a bitch who only cares about himself. And he’s gotten you in trouble.”

“That’s not
true. He’s very attentive and caring and he’s so excited—”

“That’s because
you still look like a
twig
. For Christ’s sake, Jack Carson is known for
wild parties with multiple women, not to mention the alcohol and fights. He’s
not a man who
settles down
. You know this. He’s a playboy. He’s a
womanizer.”

“He’s not that
bad. He’s very sweet and charming and he—”

“And he’s our
biggest
client. The state representatives
and Hollywood producers downstairs
won’t think we’re a reputable agency if my assistant is getting
knocked up
by our other clients!”
 

“Jolene—”

“Hell, maybe
they’ll think it’s a perk! Who else are you willing to sleep with to get
business?”

“
Jolene
!”

She exhaled,
apologizing with a shake of her head. “Leah, this…this is too much. Are you
marrying this man?”

My stomach
heaved. “I…no.”

“Why not?”

It wasn’t part
of the deal. “Why should we?”

“Because you’re
having his
child
. You’re the baggage of a public figure. You’re…” She
hesitated. “You were the future of this company. I trusted you to be rational
and responsible; someone to partner with me once you learned your way. I can’t
have my assistant sleeping with clients and getting
pregnant.”

“I can manage it
all.”

“No, you can’t.
You deal with PR problems like this
every day
. We can’t spin this. It
looks bad for our agency.”

“It won’t be a
problem.”

“It already is.
I’d hoped we could contain Jack while this fling passed, but we can’t. Leah, I
need you to either marry this man and make it right or end it with him to let
the impropriety pass.”

I blinked. I
didn’t like either option. “I…I’m not marrying him. And we’re not breaking up.
I mean…things are…”

Better than
ever.

Like a real
relationship.

Building to
something neither of us expected.

The thought of
not going to bed with Jack at night, not having his touch on my skin, not
hearing those gentle words when he praised me for carrying his baby?

It broke a heart
I never meant to give to Jack.

Jolene sensed
it. She nodded, turning off the television as the live cast ended and shifted
to an ecstatic Ainsley Ruport listing all of Jack’s current controversies and
issues.

Jolene lowered
her voice. She couldn’t look at me.

“I have to let
you go then, Leah.”

“…
What
?”

“I’m sorry.”

A long moment
passed where I didn’t understand what happened.

Let me go
?

I couldn’t
respond. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Jolene spoke to me from the
doorway, but I didn’t hear much. She offered to expense my flight back to
Ironfield and said she’d mail my things from the office.

The door closed.

My stomach
heaved until I had nothing left inside me but the baby.

She left, and I
collapsed on the bed. Tears stung my eyes. I silenced the call from Jack. The
phone buzzed and buzzed until I shut it off.

This wasn’t
supposed to happen.

First Wyatt
broke off the engagement, and I lost a full year mourning a man I didn’t love.
I finally had an opportunity to secure the career I needed, and now?

Gone.

Ruined
.

I had no
marriage. No job.

And a baby on
the way.

My life
unraveled string by string until I tangled myself in my own expectations and
misery. I didn’t bother making the arrangements through Jolene’s office. I took
my suitcase and called for a cab myself. It was a lonely ride, but I managed to
buy a plane ticket on the way. The cost made me cry. I depleted some of my
savings for a flight that wasn’t direct, had a three hour layover, and trapped
me against the window and nowhere near the bathroom.

Humility was
about as bitter as morning sickness.

I didn’t sleep
on the first flight. The second was delayed. I spent most of the layover sick
and exhausted. I just wanted to curl in a bed and rest.

But not just any
bed.

Jack’s bed.

And I wanted him
there. Holding me. Kissing me. Comforting me.