Authors: Lyssa Layne
Loved By the Linebacker
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By the Linebacker
© 2015 Lyssa Layne
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OTHER BOOKS BY LYSSA LAYNE
Burning Lovesick Series:
When you’re six feet six inches, three-hundred
pounds, and bald, it’s hard to blend in with the crowd, especially when you’re
an NFL linebacker, but today it’s easy. Today, I’m crammed into the Arizona
Lizards’ Football Stadium with eighty-thousand crazed fans for the football
game of the year—the Super Bowl. Ahead of me, my brother, and fellow NFL
linebacker, Blake, only three inches shorter and twenty-pounds lighter, waves
“Come on, Ev! Keep up,” he yells back at me.
I roll my eyes at his comment for two reasons.
One, I’m heads above the crowd, as is he, so there’s no way I’m going to lose
sight of him and two, it’s a little tough for a guy my size to barrel through a
mob of people without leaving a few casualties in my wake. A few more twists
and turns and I finally catch up to Blake, who is knocking on a suite door.
The door swings open and in front of us stands our
agent, Camila Lemos. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a Neanderthal and
despise being represented by a woman sports agent, but Blake’s got four years
in the NFL and swears she knows what she’s doing. I can’t complain too much
about the nice signing bonus she managed to get out of the San Diego Seawolves
for me last year and damn, she’s fine to stare at.
“You boys coming in?” she asks, her long coffee
colored hair hanging over her cream sweater. The shirt is a low V-neck and her
dangly necklace hangs between her cleavage, which I can appreciate. Her shirt
has large holes that display her camisole underneath, but still shows enough
skin to let the mind wander. The sweater hangs over her nice ass in her skinny
jeans and she stands only a few inches below me in her tan hooker boots.
“Sorry, Cam, had to wait on this guy,” Blake says,
pointing a finger at me and giving Camila a brief kiss on the cheek as he walks
in. He swears nothing’s ever happened between the two of them, but the pair are
practically inseparable that it makes me wonder.
Camila holds the door open, her eyebrows lifted as
she stares at me. “In or out, Evan?”
I step past her, unsure how to greet her. I’ve
only met the woman a handful of times, which kind of pisses me off. Word from
her other clients is that they always see her at their games, she takes them
out to dinner, sends their families birthday gifts, but me, I’m like the
redheaded stepchild that she wants no part of. Like always, I’m sure it’s
because I’m the “little” brother and never get the full attention I deserve.
Surprising me, Camila kisses my cheek and with a
smirk, says, “Too bad you boys couldn’t be playing today.”
“Yeah,” I grunt, not exactly sure how to respond
Camila gives a light laugh and waves her arms
around the room. It’s bigger than it looks from outside. There’s seating for
about twenty-people, a buffet of food that smells amazing, and a fully-stocked
bar with bartender. She leans in to me and speaks in a low whisper, “Help
yourself and be sure to network. The owner and general manager from the Lancers
are in our suite as well as some other special teams coaches.”
I nod as she walks away, sliding her arm around
the shoulders of the Lancers’ GM, her bracelets jangling while she introduces
Blake. I scoff. Of course, he gets first dibs, but what do I care? The Lancers
are in Chicago and it’s fuckin’ cold there. I’m happy with my team in San
Diego, where it’s sunny and warm and the women wear hardly any clothes. I don’t
need to waste my time schmoozing with any of them.
I pile my plate high with chicken wings, sliders,
and a few slices of pizza. I’m officially in the off season now so I can be lax
in my eating habits for a couple weeks. Grabbing a beer from the bartender, I
take my seat in the front of the box. It only takes a few minutes for my plate
to be cleared and when I turn around, I see Blake’s hand resting on Camila’s
back as the two fake laugh at some horrible joke the Lancers’ owner just told.
I shake my head, I didn’t pick this career to be fake and stick my nose up
people’s asses. I picked it to play football, my passion.
Rolling my eyes, I stand to refill my plate.
Before I am on my feet, a blonde in six inch stilettos and a ridiculously short
dress places her hand on my shoulder. Seriously, who wears dresses like this to
a football game? I take my time checking her out, letting my eyes drift from
her heels all the way up her legs and over her obviously fake chest until I
reach her face.
Grinning, she flips her hair to the side. “You’re
Evan Purser, right?”
I nod and sit up a little straighter, finally
someone’s giving me the time of day. “Yeah, I am. Who are you, sweetheart?”
She giggles and takes a seat beside me. “I’m
Maddie and I’m a huge fan!”
She grabs my thigh when she says this and I smile,
placing my hand over hers. “Well, Maddie, why don’t you tell me a little more
The pitch of her laugh hurts my ear, but her hand
slides higher up my leg and I figure I can handle a little earache since I have
a good idea how this game is going to end.
“Mr. Feiser, you know Blake led the Seawolves in
sacks this season and his contract is up for negotiation this spring,” I inform
the owner of the Chicago Lancers. There’s no way in hell that I’ll let Blake go
to Chicago, despite what he wishes. It would be a total career killer, but the
more he’s wanted, then the more the Seawolves will offer.
“Yes, Miss Lemos, I’m fully aware and hoping that
Mr. Purser might be open to the idea of the Midwest,” the pot-bellied man says
with a wink. His comb over is one of the worst hairstyles I’ve seen in a while
and I have to force myself to stop staring at the cheese dip he dropped on his
shirt during the first quarter.
I pat Mr. Feiser’s arm and smile. “Blake always
likes to leave his options open.” Blake’s hand tightens on my waist as he moves
his head, agreeing with me.
Mr. Feiser makes his way to the next crowd and I
turn to Blake. “That went well. Now, we just need to get him to talk to Evan.”
Blake lets out a laugh and his dark eyes sparkle
as he shakes his head. “Cam, you might need to work with Evan a bit more before
you actually let him talk to anyone like Mr. Feiser.”
Blake is right, I didn’t spend nearly enough time
with Evan last season to coach him so that he’ll be prepared come negotiation
time. My boss at Netsports decided to take early retirement, therefore, dumping
all of his clients on me as well as my own. Not to mention I had to do
everything I could to keep one of my clients’ reputation from going down the
drain due to an attack on his wife’s ex-husband. Needless to say, it was a busy
year and knowing Evan is Blake’s younger brother, I definitely dropped the ball
on refining him.
I sigh and pat Blake’s chest. “Alright, we’ll keep
him away from Mr. Feiser tonight and I’ll make a point to work with him before
Combine.” NFL Scouting Combine is the end of this month and every team will
have a representative there. It’s primarily for undrafted and college players,
but it’s also a chance for current players to make the rounds as well.
Blake kisses my cheek. “Thank you, Cam.” He guides
us to the bar where he orders for both of us as he always does.
My relationship with Blake goes back years ago to
when we were in college. He was an all-star trying to break into the big
leagues, I was a business student with no idea what I wanted to do. When our
paths crossed in biology class, we found out that we were a business, and
friendship, match made in heaven. Later, we discovered that we were definitely
not suited for anything more than that, but we’ve always been loyal to each other
and had each other’s back through thick and thin.
The bartender hands me a glass of Merlot, my drink
of choice, and I glance around the room. Bringing the glass to my lips, I stop
when I notice Evan is nowhere to be seen. I set the glass down and spin around,
trying to find him.
“What is it, Cam?” Blake asks, taking a long pull
from his beer.
Luckily, I spot Mr. Feiser in the front of the
suite, chatting with a leggy redhead, but my stomach sinks as I still don’t see
Evan. I turn to Blake. “Where is your brother?”
As soon as our eyes meet, my question is answered
by stifled moans coming from behind us. Blake is on my heels when I turn and
make my way to the back of the suite. I fling open the bathroom door that
wasn’t even locked and we’re greeted by the sight of a blonde with her dress
around her waist while Evan pounds her from behind. The two glance over at us,
the blonde not bothering to stop moaning while Evan grins proudly.
I slam the door shut, leaning against it while
Blake tries to hide his laughter. Shaking my head, I shove my finger in his
chest. “This isn’t funny. Evan is mine for the next two days or he’ll never get
Running my hands down my face, Blake lets his
laughter go and pulls me to him. Giving me a kiss on the forehead, he says,
“You’re the best, Camila. If anyone can tame Evan, it’ll be you.”
And this is exactly why I don’t sign rookies.