Twenty-four

ROWAN

With the first preseason game in the new stadium happening in two short days, I had purple, white and gold on the brain 24/7. Not only did I think about my part, I worried about Jensen because his part was much bigger than mine. Provided he was finally taken off the injured reserve list.

Since I’d never been involved with a pro football player, I wasn’t sure if this was his standard preseason behavior—pulling back, pulling in. Turning quiet and contemplative. I didn’t ask if this was the norm for him because I knew how he’d answer; there’d been no norm for him since his injury. So I let it go.

The only time he seemed like my Jensen was when he read Harry Potter to Calder.

Or after he crawled in bed with me.

My stomach did a little flip whenever I thought about how thoroughly Jensen showed me he was mine and I was his when the bedroom door closed. We were insatiable. Neither of us had had this type of intimacy before, so we craved that connection all the time.

All. The. Time.

I hadn’t understood how incredibly patient Jensen had been with me, letting the relationship build at my pace, masking his physical need—not just for sex but for affection—until I’d had a taste of his sexual appetite. The man wanted me morning, noon and night. Some days, he had me that often. I needed that body-to-body connection and release just as frequently. But I was glad I’d waited to share and explore that part of myself until Jensen because I trusted him with every aspect of my body—including my heart.

I’d gotten a message from Coach T to come in early before cheer practice. So as I paced in the spookily empty hallway outside of the conference room, I texted Daisy.

Me: Are you running late?

DO: Late for what?

Me: The meeting with Coach T.

DO: What meeting?

Me: The early one she called before tonight’s practice?

DO: ??? There’s no practice tonight. Didn’t you see that on the group text message?

I scrolled to my message list. The last message I’d gotten from Coach T had been sent as a private message. I had nothing new from the group for over twenty-four hours.

DO: What’s going on?

Me: I don’t know. I think I’m the only one here.

Before I could add that I’d started to get a bad feeling, the door to the conference room opened and Angela, liaison between the team and the national sports organization, stepped out. I’d only had dealings with her one time, and my bad feeling transformed into dread.

“Miss Michaels? We’re ready for you.”

Who’s we?

Don’t ask; just move your feet forward.

When I cleared the doorway, I saw six people at the conference table. I knew three of them. Coach T; Izzy, the media director; and that Brian guy who’d given the “follow the rules” speech months ago.

Months ago when I’d gotten so infuriated with Jensen for acting like we were friends.

Oh, if they only knew how things had changed since that day.

Maybe they did.

“Please, Miss Michaels, have a seat.”

They were spread out on one side of the table. I sat across from them like I was being cross-examined in court.

“I imagine you wonder why you’ve been called in today.” This came from the woman I didn’t know. No name tag, no indication of who she might be except efficient and annoyed.

“Sort of feels like I’m facing the Inquisition, and I’m woefully underdressed.” I’d worn my warm-up suit because hey . . . I thought I’d be headed to cheer practice after the meeting.

“We brought you here to ask a few questions.”

“Do I need an attorney present?” I said coolly, even when my stomach knotted.

“No. It pertains mostly to your contract.” She smiled.

Okay. Maybe this wasn’t what I’d feared.

“How well do you know Jensen Lund?”

And . . . yep. There it was.

Stick as close to the truth as possible. “I know him pretty well. He lives in my apartment building. LCCO, the charitable foundation that his family runs, sponsored my son’s summer camp. And I’ve cheered for The Rocket for the past four seasons as well as cheering for him when I was on the cheer team at the University of Minnesota.”

“Do you have a relationship with him?”

I have a beautiful relationship with him. He’s a wonderful, loving man and I’m so lucky, blessed and excited to have him in my life.

But I couldn’t say it. It killed me to say, “Yes. We’re friends,” instead.

None of them looked at each other, but they were all staring at me, as if I’d break in the silence.

Jensen always joked that the silent treatment was the best way to get me to talk.

Not this time.

“Do you have a personal relationship with Jensen Lund?” This from Brian, the blatherer.

“Are we personally friends?”

Brian imparted a condescending smile. “Come now. I think you know that’s not what we’re asking.”

Should I force them to ask me if I was intimately and sexually involved with Jensen? But if I did that, I’d have to answer honestly. Or did I answer this question and see if it changed the entire direction of the questioning?

“Yes, I have a personal friendship with Jensen Lund. Why is this relevant?”

“It’s relevant because we’ve been informed that you have a very personal relationship with Mr. Lund. The kind of personal relationship that is in direct violation of the contract you signed that expressly forbids any relationships between players and cheerleaders.”

Ask if they have proof. Ask who informed them.

“There are pictures,” Izzy from the PR center inserted. “We’ve managed to keep them out of the media.”

Then I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “Pictures of what? Of us coming and going from the same apartment building? Yes, that is a possibility because we both live there. Pictures of us talking at the LCCO children’s day camp? Yes, that is a possibility because my son attended that camp for three months, so Mr. Lund and I did converse on occasion.”

“But the situation, Miss Michaels, is those are not the pictures we’re referring to. We were given access to the footage of you and your son at a party at the Lund family estate. Arriving together, the three of you, in Jensen Lund’s vehicle.”

I seriously doubted they had pictures of that, since Jensen told me the security surrounding the Lund estate was near NSA levels. And if someone working security for the Lund family had decided to leak footage or images, they would’ve gone directly to the media outlets for big money. Because The Rocket wasn’t the only well-known member of that family. Footage would’ve included Jaxson “Stonewall” Lund, bad boy of the Chicago Blackhawks, and Axl “The Hammer” Hammerquist, of the Minnesota Wild and his wife, Annika Lund; they were still media darlings after Axl’s very public proposal last year. Trinity Lund had become the new “it” girl on the local art scene, not to mention the rest of the Lund family members who sponsored charitable events nearly every month and ran businesses all over the state.

Yeah, that footage would be worth a shit ton.

So in my mind this had to be someone on the inside, who had just enough “proof” to cause a problem for me, but not for The Rocket because the organization needed him.

Raina.

Maybe she had seen Jensen, Calder and me going to the Lund barbecue. Or maybe she’d heard about the LCCO camp since it’d been on the news and she’d asked around. Even if she’d hung around the school, the only day she would’ve seen anything inappropriate was that first day of camp that Jensen and I kissed. But a picture like that would’ve been splashed all over the place, months ago. Greed didn’t bide its time.

“Miss Michaels?”

I glanced at him. I remained outwardly calm even when inside I was seething. “Yes, I did attend Dallas Lund’s bon voyage party at the Lund estate. I was Dallas Lund’s cheerleading coach at the University of Minnesota for four years. Dallas also was the theater teacher at Camp Step-Up, and my son, Calder, was in her class. So Calder and I were invited to her party at her request. Since Jensen and I live in the same apartment complex and were going to the same place, we decided to carpool.” I smiled coldly. “Saving natural resources and all.”

“It appears you can explain away every example we present,” he said brusquely.

“Because the examples you’ve given are exactly as they appear. Jensen Lund and I are friends.”

Silence.

Breathe. This is a fishing expedition and they’re pulling up short with a still-baited hook.

“I have to admit, what you’re claiming doesn’t ring true. As if your . . . friendship with Jensen Lund is just a coincidence. But you subleased an apartment in the same building, directly across from Mr. Lund’s residence. A situation I’m sure you were fully aware of. Is it also a coincidence your son just happened to attend a camp sponsored by the Lund family? A camp run by Jensen Lund himself? And that Mr. Lund has been spotted on the University of Minnesota campus several times this summer, including in the training facility that houses your office?”

No excuses. No explanations. Do not even open your mouth.

“All of this together appears less coincidental and more along the lines of very shrewd planning on the part of someone who wanted to get much closer, much friendlier to a franchise football player than the distance she’s required to keep from him on the field.”

I knew what was coming next.

“So while we’re mounting a full investigation into these ‘coincidences’ as per your contract, you are suspended from the spirit squad without compensation and banned from any practices, performances and games. Any violation of this will bring legal ramifications.”

Other women might’ve had a Norma Rae speech going through their heads as they fumed and made plans to buck the system . . . not me. I just wanted to go home.

Jensen’s challenge that night I’d told him he had the power to ruin my career came back to me. I get that you are a list maker and a rule follower. What I don’t get? That you’re willing to blindly follow someone else’s rule even if it causes you to lose out on something that could have a positive impact on your life.

He’d been right. I loved that he’d been right because he was the best thing that had happened to me since the birth of my son.

But I’d also been right. My cheerleading career appeared to be over.

“Do you have any questions, Miss Michaels?”

“I trust that the media blackout on this investigation will continue as it is a confidential personnel matter.”

“Why is that relevant?” the woman demanded. “Are you asking if Jensen Lund is being suspended also?”

People actually laughed at that.

“No, it’s relevant because my livelihood is as an athletic trainer and a cheerleading coach with the University of Minnesota. Any unsubstantiated ‘coincidences’ that arise in the media may lead to questioning from my supervisors and my students, and even put my position with the school in jeopardy. None of what we’ve discussed today, or the time I spend as a part-time member of this organization, should be allowed to affect my actual career.”

Coach T leaned forward and spoke for the first time. “I guarantee nothing from this meeting will be discussed outside this room except for with the most essential personnel, Rowan. You have my word on that.”

“Thank you, Coach T.”

“You’re free to leave,” Brian said. “We’ll be in touch.”

No, you won’t.

As I left the building, I wondered if one of the assistant coaches had already cleaned out my locker.

“Rowan! Wait.”

Dante caught me right before I got into my car. “What the hell happened in there?”

I said nothing.

“Coach T threw a fucking chair at the wall after you left.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” He considered me. “I overheard something.”

“Overheard?”

“Fine. I’m new enough as a full-time trainer that my job isn’t secure and I listen in whenever I can to conversations I’m not supposed to know about.”

“That’s why you’re always in the know. I figured you were sleeping with Izzy or something.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t hit that for all the inside information in the organization.”

“What’d you hear, Dante?”

“You’re being suspended for violating the no-frat rule with Jensen Lund.”

“You heard right.”

“That’s just fucking stupid. He didn’t even know who the hell you were! And I know Lund, he’s not a cheater. He wouldn’t be stepping out with you, secretly or otherwise, when he’s already involved with someone else.”

I froze. “What are you talking about? Who is Jensen involved with?”

“This chick named Astrid. He told me about her months ago.” His jaw tightened. “Do you want me to go in there and tell them they’re absolutely wrong in suspending you? Because that sucks, Ro. Jens will come forward and tell them—”

“That they’re right because we’ve been fraternizing in a big way for months.”

Dante looked like he’d taken an actual physical hit. “What about Astrid?”

“Astrid is his assistant.”

“But—”

“Jensen was protecting me because he’s in love with me.” I exhaled. “I’m in love with him too.”

“Shit.”

“I broke the rules, Dante. I knew what was at stake.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

His eyes searched mine. “Did you tell them that you and Jensen are . . . ?”

I shook my head. “I just reiterated that he and I are friends. Because we are that. Their proof or whatever they want to call it is pretty thin.”

“Did they indicate whether he’d face disciplinary action?”

“They kind of laughed and said, Yeah right, like we’re going to suspend a franchise player after a year and a half of being on IR.” I groaned. “You know how I tend to blurt things out? I almost said, Technically it’s not fraternization when he’s on the IR list, but I stopped myself.”

“Because you know that’s total bullshit, right?”

“Yeah.” After Jensen had tossed that in my face, I’d finally understood the lengths he’d go to, to convince me to take a chance on him . . . on us.

“Besides, he’s off IR as of today.”

I wanted to jump up and down and squeal with joy. “Omigod, does he know?”

“He found out at the end of practice.” Dante grinned. “He’ll want to celebrate that with you.” His smile faded. “Or maybe not, because he will be pissed when he hears about you getting—”

“No.” I got right in his face. “Don’t you dare tell him about the suspension. I mean it. I’ve never asked you for anything, but I am begging you. Do whatever you can to keep this from him. He needs to focus on his game, on his career, on finally getting to do what he loves. I love him too much to let him put that in jeopardy because of me.” I grabbed his arm. “Please. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

“Rowan—”

“Promise me, Dante.”

“Fine. I promise. But how are you going to keep this from him?”

“I’ll figure something out. He’ll be so busy that it won’t come up.”

“Wrong. He’ll notice when you aren’t on that field. He might not have seen you before, but he’ll be looking for you now.”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet.” I blew out a long breath. “Or what excuse I’ll tell Daisy. Because she isn’t the type to believe what I tell her or to let it go.”

Dante smiled. “Let me deal with Daisy, okay?” Then he hugged me. “I’m happy for you. Jensen is a good guy. Really. He deserves a woman like you.”

“A woman like me?”

“With a heart as big as his. I should’ve known you two would be perfect for each other.”

•   •   •

As much as I’d obsessed about how upset I’d be if I got fired from the team . . . when it actually happened? I was oddly calm.

Because you’re in shock.

Maybe. But I wasn’t going to dwell on it because I had major celebrating to do.

I unlocked the door to Jensen’s apartment and found my guys snuggled up, reading. They didn’t notice me at first, so I just leaned against the wall and watched them. Man and boy so comfortable with each other, so accepting of each other. It seemed so right, so natural, so normal a sight for me to come home to, and it always brought me joy and peace.

For a few moments, I stood and listened to Jensen’s smooth, expressive voice. I’d told him if the whole football thing fell through he could become an audiobook narrator. But it sounded like he wouldn’t have to worry about finding other employment.

Calder noticed me. “Mommy!” He popped up and held his arms out for a hug.

I squeezed him tight. “Hey, guys.”

“Pile in,” Jensen said reaching for me. “We’re almost done with this chapter.”

“You finish. I’m heading over to pour myself a glass of wine.”

Jens pinned me with a look. “Practice was okay?”

“It was short.” I looked around. “Where’s Martin?”

“He stepped out for some fresh air. He’ll be right back.”

“Gotcha.”

Calder slid down the cushion and nestled into Jensen.

Then they were lost in the book again.

In my apartment, I poured wine and wandered through the space. A space that had gotten pretty cluttered. We hadn’t decided which apartment to live in, so we sort of lived in both. And since Martin was still baching it, waiting for us to make a decision, his stuff was in both places too. Bob, the building complex manager, hadn’t gotten back to me about the empty apartments on the first floor. I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t want to rent to me.

I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower.

I heard him before I felt him. The man might be fast and agile on the football field, but stealth wasn’t his strong suit.

Then his callused hands were on my wet skin, the hands of a man who knew exactly how to touch me, the hands of the man who showed he loved me with every teasing, loving caress.

“Well, well, what do we have here? I thought we’d celebrate me getting cleared off the IR list with a glass of wine . . . but celebrating with a naked woman? I’ll take that.”

I spun around. “They cleared you?”

His grin was as wide as the Mississippi River. “Yep. I’m starting too. People who say preseason games are for scrubs can suck it.”

I laughed. “I’m so happy for you.”

He rested his forehead to mine. “I’m relieved, Ro. So fucking relieved I feel like I can breathe again.”

“I’ll bet.” I started sliding my hands across his chest because I could. Anytime I wanted. “Did you already tell your family members the good news?”

“Right away.” He leaned back to peer into my eyes. “Did I break a relationship rule?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you upset that I told them about it before I told you?”

“No, they’ve been waiting for this day. I’m sure they’re all celebrating.” I ran my hands down his spectacular arms. “Who else did you tell?”

“Calder. Who, by the way, is crashing at my place with Uncle Martin tonight.”

“You told Martin before you told me?”

“Yeah. He was there when I told Calder.”

“Anyone else?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “I might’ve called my grandpa in Sweden.”

Sweet, sweet man.

“And I might’ve called Michael.”

“Michael,” I repeated. “As in my dad?”

“He’s a huge football fan, Coach. His daughter is banging The Rocket. He deserves the inside scoop.”

I stood on my toes and nipped Jensen’s chin. “You sure about the banging part? Because, dude, I’m like the twentieth person on the list.”

“More like twenty-second tonight. I told Astrid and uh . . . Bob.”

My hands stopped wandering. “Bob. As in . . . Bob the building manager?” I slapped my hands on his chest. “You told Bob before you told me? Seriously, Lund?”

“Hey, you said you weren’t gonna be mad.”

“I wasn’t gonna be mad that you told your family first. But you told Bob?”

Jensen actually backed up at the look in my eyes. “Wait. He’s a big fan—”

“I’m a big fan. I’m also seriously considering calling this off for unsportsmanlike conduct for excessive celebrating in the end zone. Premature celebrating.”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Shit. So sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” I pushed him against the back wall in the shower. “Because next time I want to hear it from you first, not Dante.”

“You knew?”

“Dante spilled the beans to me tonight before I left.”

“That big mouth.”

“Speaking of big mouth . . .” I kissed a path straight down his chest and dropped to my knees. “Anything else you want to talk about?”

“Not a damn thing.”

•   •   •

The following afternoon when I was at work, trying to figure out a plan to explain why I wasn’t at practice and why I probably wouldn’t be cheering at the game, I received a text message from Coach T:

CT: You’ve been reinstated to the team. Practice at six tonight. DO NOT be late or you’re running extra laps.

My thumbs hovered over the keys as I was tempted to text WHY? What changed?

But that might be pushing it and I’d take the end result since that’s all that mattered.

Maybe I had convinced them that Jensen Lund and I really were only friends.