Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 6 TESSA

I read the text message again as I sit at my kitchen table, cross-checking my lists and making sure I have everything in order for the fair. Mrs. Asher was all too willing to have Fallon Ridge High School students write the application essays for the festival funds, and I’ve been reviewing them all day. She only gave me the top twenty, but Landon’s is the best so far. He’s a hard worker deserving of a break, and I’m hopeful that Tristan and I can help give him one.

In addition to the essays, I’ve taken over my mother’s garage, and tables are filled with donated items for the auction and raffles out there. Sue is working on making raffle baskets, and we’re less than two weeks out. I feel organized, and yet I feel like it’s all happening too fast and there are a million details to take care of.

Stephanie: I decided to organize a craft fair to benefit Kewanee! Let’s chat so we can share ideas.

First…what?

And second… what ?

Why is she doing this?

It’s like she’s copying everything I’m doing. First the weird Instagram pictures, which I never told anyone about, and then our conversation about her studying to become a nurse, and now…this.

Next thing you know she’ll show up pregnant.

I sigh as I try to figure out how to handle this one.

Me: We’re in the final stretch now over here. Lots of last-minute details to cover so now isn’t a good time for me but we can chat soon.

I realize I should’ve left off that last part as soon as I send it. I’m committing to a future conversation when all I want is to keep this person at arm’s length…or better yet, to get her out of my life completely.

The doorbell rings, and I lift to a stand as I hope I know who it is. I see his face through the tempered glass of the window in the door, and he grins when I open it. He’s wearing a baseball cap backwards on his head again, and my knees nearly give out at how freaking hot he looks.

He takes me into his arms like we’ve been apart for weeks rather than under twelve hours, and he presses a quick, soft kiss to my lips.

My chest aches for more.

But that’s where I’m at right now. This is where I’ve put us.

We’re sort of together but not really—we can’t really be together yet. We’ve kissed a few times, but to me…it can’t lead any further than that for now. But as soon as I know he’s free, well, the gates will unlock and the angels will sing.

Or something like that.

I’m a few steps beyond self-conscious about the current shape of my body. My stomach seems to have popped overnight, like it was waiting for me to tell Tristan about the baby so it could let loose, and I went from being able to hide the bump to feeling like I’m about seventeen months pregnant.

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I woke up with a fresh new pain in my hip and my feet are getting harder and harder to see. Or to reach.

Tristan sets a hand on my tummy as if to tell the baby good morning, too, and it’s about the sweetest thing I can imagine. I’m wearing a t-shirt today, glad I don’t need to hide my belly anymore because frankly the big sweatshirts were starting to get hot. I’m hot all the time, in fact, which is why I’m currently wearing a pair of shorts with one of those belly bands built in paired with a maternity shirt that says Spoiler Alert: It’s a Girl .

His eyes meet mine and he offers a soft smile, and I’m still so torn on how to feel about his attention. It’s my baby…but I want to share her with the man I love. I want her to be ours , but I also don’t want to hold a young, attractive, single man back from all the joys he deserves out of life.

Unless having a child is the joy he wants right now. It seems to be—and by some miracle, he seems to want it with me —but I don’t want to feel like I’m holding him back in any way.

And yet, that feeling permeates my chest. It crawls up my spine, seeps into my veins and swims in my blood.

The last thing I want is for him to be with me out of obligation. He assured me last night that wasn’t it…and I should take him at his word. Still, the thought plagues me, among others. The spotlight, for one. The fact that our life together would be very public when I have not one but two secrets that are vital to keep under wraps for very different reasons.

I keep thinking we can cross that bridge when we get to it, but maybe we’re there.

I close the door behind him and we start on our path toward the table, where we’re planning to knock out whatever we can for the fair.

“Is your mom home?” he asks.

I shake my head. “She’s at the church but she’s been working on the carnival games. One side of the garage is a mess of auction and raffle items, and the other side is full of supplies.”

He chuckles. “I need to figure out some way to thank our biggest volunteers. Maybe a pizza party at the Joint in a few weeks or something.” He rolls the idea around as we each take a seat. “I was hoping I could get my buddy Ben Olson to stop by, but he’s getting married the weekend before the event. It’s all hush hush and he’s doing it up in Montana.”

“Are you going?” I ask, a little alarmed that he might not be in town the weekend before our event.

He shakes his head. “No, they’re doing it super privately so the media doesn’t show up. But if I was invited, I’d bring you as my date.” He winks at me.

He’s in the spotlight now, and I’d be the mystery pregnant woman by his side. He’s going through a divorce, and most certainly questions would arise as to who he’s spending his time with and who fathered the child of the mystery woman on his arm—because if he’s supposedly been faithful to his wife, then the baby I’m carrying couldn’t possibly be his.

I blow out a breath. “I’d want to go. I’d love to meet your friends and see what your life is like now, not to mention what a dream it would be to meet the NFL stars…but it wouldn’t be a good idea. The timing is just…not ideal.”

His brows dip. “You want to meet NFL stars? You do realize one is literally sitting less than a foot away from you and wants to strip you naked and fuck you on this kitchen table until you can’t see straight, right?”

My eyes widen at his words. I suck in a breath as a needy ache lands squarely between my thighs. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

He leans in a little closer and lowers his voice. “I’ve changed, too, Tessa. I’m not the boy whose fingers trembled as they got close to your breast. I haven’t slept around, exactly, but I know what I’m doing, and I’d be happy to show you how I’ve…matured.”

I pick up a sheet of paper on the table and use it to fan myself. He certainly isn’t a boy anymore, and the more time we spend together, the more I can’t wait for him to prove it.

“Is it warm in here?” I ask, and the tremble in my voice is a contrast to the thing he just said.

He chuckles. “I’m always hot when I’m around you.”

I’m trying to come up with some witty reply—or trying to find a way to change the subject—when the doorbell rings again.

“Excuse me,” I say, and I practically run to answer the door.

His laugh echoes behind me, and I get the sense he finds more than a little bit of joy in flirting with me…and in saying things that take me completely by surprise.

And speaking of taking me completely by surprise, when I open the door, my jaw drops a little at who’s standing there. I blink once, and then again, just to make sure I’m not seeing things. “Stephanie,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer my question but instead steps into the house uninvited and hugs me. She steps back a little, eyeing my stomach. “Are you…” she trails off, not finishing her question, but my spoiler alert shirt pretty much says it all.

Her eyes are wide as they move from my stomach back up to my face, and I finally nod.

“Is it Tristan’s?” she asks quietly.

I raise both brows. I have no idea how to answer that. It’s not, and yet…he’s made it seem as though he wants it to be. Does he?

“I’m sorry…but why are you here?” I ask, tilting my head as my brows knit together.

“You mentioned you were getting close to the finish line, so I just dropped by to see if I could help at all.” She smiles, and there’s something a little off about that smile as I pair it with the fact that it would be impossible for her to just drop by . Fallon Ridge isn’t the type of place anybody just drops by. It’s close to the highway, sure, but it’s still a ten-minute trek to get to my house from there. The only reason someone might get off at our exit is to grab a tank of gas, but somehow I don’t believe that’s what Stephanie is doing here.

She looks past me toward the kitchen table where Tristan is sitting watching us.

She narrows her eyes as she looks at him then back at me as if she just noticed he’s here. I spot a little something in her eyes… jealousy, maybe? Is she jealous I’m spending time with him? “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

Yes, in fact, you are.

“We’re working on some final details for the festival,” I say. “I’m sorry, but now isn’t a good time.” I say it gently, and the way her face immediately hardens tells me that isn’t what she wanted to hear.

“Oh,” she says. “I see.” She doesn’t budge for a beat, and Tristan must sense my desperation to get rid of her because he stands and saunters over.

“I don’t know if we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Tristan.” He holds out his hand to shake hers, and she looks a little intimidated by him.

As someone who has known him since we were twelve, I know he’s one of the least intimidating people I’ve ever met. He’s kind and compassionate, and he’ll help pretty much anybody with anything if he has the means to help.

But a stranger like Stephanie would see something else entirely. A tall man at six feet, five inches, and I have no idea what he weighs, but he’s lean and muscular.

And he’s hot as fuck. Dark hair that’s usually styled nearly in a messy faux hawk—but a little messier, a little more blended, and not quite as long on top as the style might call for, but today it’s covered with that baseball cap. Dark eyes that don’t hide his emotions. A little bit of scruff on his jaw today that ups the hotness factor a bit. A body beneath the t-shirt and jeans that looks like it’s cut from marble. And he’s a professional athlete in a sport that creates celebrities out of its players.

It’s all about perspective, I guess. He’s not intimidating to me, but I’ve also been in love with him half my life.

“I know who you are,” she says, and unlike Tristan who doesn’t really hide his emotions, I can’t quite get a read on what she’s thinking. Her tone doesn’t convey what it is, exactly, but I think I’m sensing desire.

Who wouldn’t desire this man?

He’s a catch and a half.

And somehow…he wants me .