Gridiron Heartbreaker: Gridiron Bad Boys, #2

1

Blaine Davis pushed off the wall and slapped his palm against his former teammate's hand hard enough to sting—a ritual he'd missed for too many game days to count. And it got the blood going. Adam's wide grin followed the gesture, and the man beamed with so much happiness, Blaine could only return the smile.

Since he'd been the man's QB once, Blaine had to give him shit. Are you one hundred percent sure this... He gestured to the living room filled with people. They were there for an engagement party ...is all voluntary?

Adam shifted a hand through his dark strands, but Blaine could have sworn the man blushed. Have you met Charlotte? His voice rumbled with certainty, and something else he'd had never heard in Adam's voice before. I'm sure she's the woman I want to marry.

Blaine scanned the crowd for a short redhead. She was lost in the large living room, surrounded by big, muscled football players, none shorter than six feet. Her family and likely her friends, mingled. Together they all made for a loud, but not quite raucous celebration.

In the backdrop of those people, two tables had been set up near the balcony for dinner—whenever the meal was ready to be served. San Francisco Bay, the Golden Gate Bridge and the rolling fog creeping up the shores would serve as the view. Wait staff weaved around the groups to offer champagne and appetizers. Everyone looked happy and relaxed, having a good time.

And for the first time in a long damn time, Blaine had hugged a wall like a life preserver. He had almost stayed home. On a weekend. When there was a party. With women in tight dresses.

Tension climbed up his neck and gripped his nape. He would get into the swing of things. Dammit. I met your wife-to-be. She answered the door.

Adam scoffed. I told her she didn't have to.

She was...interesting to meet.

Her smile had been sweet but the glint in her gaze had the promise of wickedness. No surprise there that Adam was marrying a woman who could keep up with him. Hell, it was probably why so many people had showed up. They wanted to rubberneck and meet the woman who tamed the bad boy of football.

Define interesting, Adam said, his head tilted and his brows furrowed with what looked to be genuine interest at Blaine's answer.

How could he reply while being respectful? I expected... he said slowly, ...blonde.

Adam grunted, but he didn't disagree with his former type.

Blaine went on. But I saw you with her. You looked...

The way Blaine used to. Happy with his lot in life, and maybe a pang of jealousy hit Blaine between the eyes. Maybe he hadn't been content with his playboy lifestyle for a while, but for at least the last two months every day felt like a slog.

Holding Adam's blue-eyed gaze, Blaine pushed out a breath and added, I heard the rumors about you, so it was good to see you with someone who clearly makes you whipped.

Adam laughed. Which rumors? There are plenty.

Let me go through my memory and pick the top five.

Five? I am definitely a changed man. Not you though from what I've seen and heard.

Yeah? He'd been pretty lowkey. What?

Do you really want to know?

Blaine didn't even have to think about that. Not really.

The gossip mill was a legit problem for both of them. For Adam it had caused the man to be traded a little over a year ago. Yeah. Some racy photos and equally graphic texts had been shared online. For close to six months afterward Adam's name hadn't been in the press until an announcement of his engagement to a sweet, cute catering business owner.

In contrast, for the last six months the tabloids had detailed Blaine's dating life and most of everything they reported about him had been true-ish. He did date like someone could restrict his privileges. He liked to party as though it could be his last chance.

But nothing scandalous forced him to move to Oakland after his contract came up for renegotiation. He'd come home to take care of his mother. He stuffed his hands in his pockets at the last thought.

Adam shifted and placed a hand on his shoulder. You okay?

Yeah. He searched for a server nearby in hopes of whiskey rather than champagne.

You haven't flirted with anyone since you got here. What's going on?

Surprised but amused, Blaine leaned against the frame of the glass door behind him. You were watching me that intently? I thought true love was supposed to blind you to all else.

Adam's lip quirked as he dropped his hand. Don't worry, after this, I'm going to...Not the point. You're not yourself. A pause then Adam winced. Your mom?

Blaine flinched at the question. He could unload every worry, every reason why he'd had sleepless nights, but the truth was he came to the party to lighten the hell up. Be himself, not the restless, edgy perpetual frowner. Even if he had to force every light-hearted response.

She's fine. Thanks for asking, but if anything is making me twitchy it's that someone nicknamed the Devil of the Gridiron is getting married. How the mighty have fallen. Makes a man think about his own mortality.

Always a drama queen. Shut up, Adam said but laughed. And consider this an invite to dinner after our game on Sunday. He talked over him before Blaine could refuse, And if you try to wiggle your way out of it, I will send my fiancée over here to talk you into it. Trust me, you can't say no to her.

You shouldn't look so happy being whipped.

Depends on who is wielding the leather, Adam said and didn't even let the insult sink in.

Blaine laughed and it felt damn good. I promise to turn the charm on someone so you can feel better.

Yeah, well...

At that both men took in the room. He could tell who were there as dates to a football player. They hadn't just dressed for the occasion, but likely in hopes of keeping the men on their arm. Even the women he could assume were friends of Charlotte wore doe-eyed expressions. As always.

Celebrity, no matter how fleeting or abstract, attracted a certain kind of woman. He couldn't help but feel bored at the choices of breathy giggling, awkward or nosy interactions—anything that didn't treat him as a man first. Even then, not one woman he saw drew his interest and there was enough cleavage on display to make Hugh Hefner jealous.

Normally he'd jump in, but nope. Once Adam went back to the thick of the party, Blaine would go back to being a wallflower. His heart wasn't in it, and he didn't know why.

Then the crowd seemed to break apart or maybe it was the way Adam's entire face and demeanor changed, focused on a redhead striding through the mingling people. She was beaming, blushing when her gaze connected to her groom-to-be.

Blaine didn't feel like a voyeur, but he was encroaching on the silent moment between Adam and Charlotte. The two hadn't spoken a word or touched. A nameless pang strummed through Blaine and he took a step back.

Charlotte, Adam's voice was warm and...hell, tender when the man said, this is Blaine. My old QB.

Her blue eyes sparkled when she gazed at him. Thank you for your donation.

He'd almost forgotten about that. A few months ago Adam had called to get help to save a teen youth program. It's how they ended up talking almost weekly again after years of sporadic contact. You're welcome, and it was no problem. Plenty of my teammates, even this knucklehead, were better off because of programs like yours.

She cupped Adam's cheek but her gaze remained on Blaine. He's a keeper. Did you get something to eat? You should. The quiches are to die for, and I'm not biased.

You hired the chef after one meal, Adam said.

And you know how picky I am.

Blaine shook his head. You guys sound married already.

Adam scoffed. Don't be bitter.

Charlotte patted his face. You can talk smack to him later. We've been summoned by my mother.

Adam offered his hand, Blaine took it. Catch you later.

Sunday, Adam reminded him.

After a quick agreement, Blaine was again alone, and likely sulky-looking. He flagged down