“My wife has been a professor at the University of Washington for over ten years now, and my kids, well, all my kids are Seattle born and bred, something I’ll never let them forget.”
Roving a gaze around the huge stadium one last time, I lowered my eyes, holding back the threatening lump inching up my throat, and said, “Thanks to y’all for making my career here the best time of my life.”
The crowd erupted once more, and with a drum roll from the band, a large banner dropped from the rafters: my name and jersey number, now officially retired in my honor.
Staring up at the banner, a sense of accomplishment filled me. I’d lived my dream to the best of my ability and loved every minute of playing for this team.
Suddenly several sets of hands wrapped around my waist and legs, as my children ran to me in support, and a familiar arm slipped around my waist: Shakespeare.
“You did it, baby,” she whispered, still staring proudly at my banner, happy tears in her eyes. “You did it all.”
Cupping her face, I pressed a kiss to her lips and said, “You ready to get back to Bama, Mrs. Prince?”
Moving in for another kiss, she giggled and replied, “Roll Tide!”
Epilogue
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Six months later…
Shit. The Tide QB I was watching on the new game tapes Coach’d just sent me had rendered me speechless. His quick feet, the power of his passes and his running game were sick. He was a triple threat and, no doubt, the kid had some serious friggin’ skills.
Hearing the quick stomping of feet coming up the stairs, I quickly switched off the TV, fumbling the remote and jumped to my feet just a Mol came through the door.
She met my eyes and frowned. “Romeo Prince! Are you watching game tapes when you are meant to be helping me sort everything out for this bloody housewarming get together you planned?”
Shit. There was no winning this one.
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Molly held up her hand, silencing me. “I’m running around this house like a blue-arsed fly, sorting the food, sorting the kids, and you hide out up here in our room?” She walked forward and prodded me in the chest. “A week Romeo! We’ve been back a week and you plan a party… Thanks! We’ve barely unpacked!”
Molly stood before me, all in a fluster, dressed in a lilac summer dress—she looked fucking beautiful.
“Oh, no,” she warned with a firm shake of her index finger.
Reaching out, I grabbed the material of her dress and pulled her close. “What?” I asked with a smirk.
Pushing on my chest, she shook her head. “Don’t even think it.”
“But, baby—”
“‘But, baby’, nothing.” Molly removed my hand from her waist and stepped back. “Now get your arse in that backyard and fire up the grill.”
Narrowing my eyes, I leaned in, whispering, “I’m so gonna fuck you tonight for that attitude, Shakespeare.” Then walked out of the bedroom door and headed downstairs, laughing as I heard my wife’s long, sexually frustrated sigh.
The sound of the kids playing in their game room filtered into the hall, and just as I was heading into the kitchen, the front door rang. Checking the clock on the wall, I groaned in exasperation. Our friends were an hour early. Molly was gonna kill me.
Swinging open the door, I immediately froze. A teenage kid—no, correction—a teenage boy; tall, big in build, with the cockiest smirk spread on his face.
“Bullet Prince! Big fan, man.” He moved in for a fist bump, but I didn’t even bother lifting my hand.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, and the kid paled a little as I crossed my arms over my chest. Yeah, I may have just retired but I still had a good set of guns.
“Err… I… I’m…”
“Asher!” My head swung around only to see my daughter walking my way, all smiles for the douche on my doorstep.
Oh. Hell. No.
Fully facing Taylor, and blocking the entire doorway, I asked, “Who’s he and what the hell is he doing at my door?”
Taylor stopped in her tracks and her face beamed red. “Daddy! Stop it! You’re embarrassing me!”
“Who is he? I won’t ask again.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “He’s my date.”
I was pretty fucking sure smoke began blowing from my ears, because those three words just about made me combust.
“Come again?” I asked tersely, you know, just for clarification.
“He’s. My. Date,” she said slowly, each word exaggerated.
Fuck. Not only did she look exactly like me: blond hair and brown eyes, but she had the pissy, no-shit attitude to match. I could now see Molly’s point on how damn annoying this moody shit could be to deal with.
“Bullet, come on. We can work this—”
I swung to face the kid on my doorstep as he spoke and without a single word in response, I slammed the door in his fucking face.
“Daddy!” Taylor screamed. “I was going on a date with him!”
“Like hell you were! Since when do you date, and why the hell haven’t you asked permission? Because I’ll tell you now, girl, that kid only has one thing on his mind, and like hell he’s doing those things to my fourteen-year-old daughter! You get me?”
“Momma!”