Game For Love: Gridiron Heartbreaker (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Gridiron Bad Boys Book 2) by Melissa Blue Page A
Authors: Melissa Blue
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chest was too tight. “I don't want to know what it's like to live without him.”
Charlotte smiled. “Now what were you saying about those artichokes?”
Alyssa laughed. Charlotte wasn't a bridezilla but she was a chef. “I'll show you.”
“And then you'll call him?”
“Let's get through your wedding first. I don't think...if he...” In the shattered silence Alyssa admitted the truth—if Blaine turned her down, for good, maybe she wouldn't be able to cook for a wedding of all things.
Charlotte patted her arm. “Okay. Now the artichokes.”
Alyssa's heart still ached, but there was hope. Her gut told her so. She'd listen to it.
*****
“I'm not about to die. I'm getting married.” Adam fixed his tie in the mirror, but his gaze stayed on Blaine. They'd leave the man's house soon enough to track down to the beach where Charlotte and Adam would exchange their vows.
“What?” Blaine asked, a frown marring his face.
The best man, Kent, kicked his chair. “He's saying, in a polite way, you should fucking smile because you're making him nervous.”
Kent looked and sounded like he was raised in a place with farmers and cornfields, but Blaine knew the man had been one hell of a QB before an injury took him out of the game.
“Sorry. Distracted,” Blaine said.
The moment he'd crossed his threshold his mother had been relentless. The CIA could take tips from her on questioning a hostile subject, and he'd been plenty hostile to any Alyssa inquiry his mother had. Alyssa had graced no less than four tabloids. Apparently his mother read all four in her free time.
Is this the woman that's had you smiling?
You look happy here. Why did you end it?
Why didn't you let me meet her first?
She'll be at the wedding. What are you going to do?
On and on until he was grateful, for the first time since her surgery, to leave her at home alone.
Again, he was letting his mind drift. Blaine focused on his friend. “Adam, shouldn't you have been dressed thirty minutes ago? What the hell were you doing?” Yup. A QB giving his former teammate shit.
Adam only smiled and fixed his bow tie.
Kent shook his head before saying, “You should be happy,” the man said. “You're going to win tomorrow's game. Adam can't concentrate on simple things.”
Lucky bastard. The sour thought wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. If Adam wasn't a friend, Blaine would have passed up the wedding. It had taken everything to not go into the kitchen. Sure he'd ignored his mother's questions, but he had a long enough drive to think about Alyssa. Mentally complain about the entire situation.
Why did they have to have the reception at their house? Adam had enough money to hold the reception at a hotel or a stadium. They had wanted small and intimate. Maybe twenty of their closest friends and family would attend.
Torture, because there was no reason Blaine couldn't check on the chef. Other than the fact he'd ended things. She probably didn't want to see him. If she did, she might actually pull out the nut chopper.
Or ignore him.
That reaction was likely the worse. He'd pushed her out of his life, and, maybe he'd done one hell of a job of helping her get over Andrew. Blaine was nothing in comparison.
Kent kicked the chair again and Blaine scowled in the man's direction. “What?” he snapped.
“So I went into the kitchen to steal something that would hold me over. I met the chef. It's a funny thing because I could have sworn I saw a picture of her on a magazine. Standing next to you. Leaving a hotel.”
Kent sounded like his mother—a voice of reason. Blaine narrowed his gaze.
“Adam,” Blaine muttered, “you picked the wrong best man. Yours reads gossip mags.”
Adam scoffed. “So I should have picked the one who broke a woman's heart? Did it right before my wedding when she has to cook for everyone?”
Blaine tensed. “What?”
“Apparently, Charlotte had to console her the other day. There were tears. So if my wife glares
Charlotte smiled. “Now what were you saying about those artichokes?”
Alyssa laughed. Charlotte wasn't a bridezilla but she was a chef. “I'll show you.”
“And then you'll call him?”
“Let's get through your wedding first. I don't think...if he...” In the shattered silence Alyssa admitted the truth—if Blaine turned her down, for good, maybe she wouldn't be able to cook for a wedding of all things.
Charlotte patted her arm. “Okay. Now the artichokes.”
Alyssa's heart still ached, but there was hope. Her gut told her so. She'd listen to it.
*****
“I'm not about to die. I'm getting married.” Adam fixed his tie in the mirror, but his gaze stayed on Blaine. They'd leave the man's house soon enough to track down to the beach where Charlotte and Adam would exchange their vows.
“What?” Blaine asked, a frown marring his face.
The best man, Kent, kicked his chair. “He's saying, in a polite way, you should fucking smile because you're making him nervous.”
Kent looked and sounded like he was raised in a place with farmers and cornfields, but Blaine knew the man had been one hell of a QB before an injury took him out of the game.
“Sorry. Distracted,” Blaine said.
The moment he'd crossed his threshold his mother had been relentless. The CIA could take tips from her on questioning a hostile subject, and he'd been plenty hostile to any Alyssa inquiry his mother had. Alyssa had graced no less than four tabloids. Apparently his mother read all four in her free time.
Is this the woman that's had you smiling?
You look happy here. Why did you end it?
Why didn't you let me meet her first?
She'll be at the wedding. What are you going to do?
On and on until he was grateful, for the first time since her surgery, to leave her at home alone.
Again, he was letting his mind drift. Blaine focused on his friend. “Adam, shouldn't you have been dressed thirty minutes ago? What the hell were you doing?” Yup. A QB giving his former teammate shit.
Adam only smiled and fixed his bow tie.
Kent shook his head before saying, “You should be happy,” the man said. “You're going to win tomorrow's game. Adam can't concentrate on simple things.”
Lucky bastard. The sour thought wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. If Adam wasn't a friend, Blaine would have passed up the wedding. It had taken everything to not go into the kitchen. Sure he'd ignored his mother's questions, but he had a long enough drive to think about Alyssa. Mentally complain about the entire situation.
Why did they have to have the reception at their house? Adam had enough money to hold the reception at a hotel or a stadium. They had wanted small and intimate. Maybe twenty of their closest friends and family would attend.
Torture, because there was no reason Blaine couldn't check on the chef. Other than the fact he'd ended things. She probably didn't want to see him. If she did, she might actually pull out the nut chopper.
Or ignore him.
That reaction was likely the worse. He'd pushed her out of his life, and, maybe he'd done one hell of a job of helping her get over Andrew. Blaine was nothing in comparison.
Kent kicked the chair again and Blaine scowled in the man's direction. “What?” he snapped.
“So I went into the kitchen to steal something that would hold me over. I met the chef. It's a funny thing because I could have sworn I saw a picture of her on a magazine. Standing next to you. Leaving a hotel.”
Kent sounded like his mother—a voice of reason. Blaine narrowed his gaze.
“Adam,” Blaine muttered, “you picked the wrong best man. Yours reads gossip mags.”
Adam scoffed. “So I should have picked the one who broke a woman's heart? Did it right before my wedding when she has to cook for everyone?”
Blaine tensed. “What?”
“Apparently, Charlotte had to console her the other day. There were tears. So if my wife glares
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