Tackling Life: A Sports Romance (Tackling Romance Series Book 2) Read online

  Diandra is nodding. Clearly, these two have come to an agreement. One where I should just go along with whatever they say.

  A son.

  Diandra reaches out to touch me, then pulls back as though some hidden force is stopping her. “Please, Gray.”

  With both hands, I rub my face several times, then sigh. “Okay, let’s do this. I need to go home and get some clothes.”

  “I’m booked on a flight in two hours.” Diandra glances at my mother. “Minerva has all the details. You can stay with me while you’re in town.” She reaches across, and this time she squeezes my hand, causing an electric current to run up my arm. Diandra must feel it, too, for she quickly moves away, rubbing her hands together. “Thank you, Gray. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “Does he know who I am?”

  Diandra nods. “Yes, he knows you’re his dad. He follows the New England Warriors, well he follows all of the teams, but he knows you play for them. He’ll have been super excited that you won.”

  My mother hugs Diandra and sees her to the door, leaving me to fester.

  A son.

  Named after my grandfather, no less.

  Mom walks back into the kitchen. “What are you waiting for?”

  “He might not be mine.”

  Mom shakes her head. “I saw photos, and he’s the spitting image of you at his age.”

  Guilt washes through me. I hadn’t thought to ask for pictures.

  “You could be seeing what you want to see.”

  Mom puts an arm around me. “Would it be so bad if you had a son?”

  I shake my head. “No, Mom. It’s having that woman back in my life.”

  “I seem to remember you loved that woman very much.” Mom lets me go and moves to the other end of the house, where her bedroom is located. I finish my sandwich, then stand and follow her.

  “You don’t need to come,” I say as I enter her bedroom.

  “What if you’re not a match?” she asks, putting clothes into a carry-on.

  “Again, Mom, he might not be mine.”

  “Pfft!” she replies, waving a hand at me. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  GRAYSON

  Five Years Earlier

  A blind date. My mother set me up on a blind date. I don’t have time for distractions. My life revolves around football and college. That’s all.

  This girl is the daughter of one of my mother’s friends, and she’s just transferred to my school. Upon hearing this, Mom volunteered me as a chaperone to show her around for the night. She knew I was going to a party at one of the frat houses. It’s not like I let loose very often. I’m focused. Having to babysit some female, who obviously can’t get a date for herself, isn’t how I planned this evening.

  Sitting out in front of her apartment, I wish I could drive away, but my mother would whoop my ass. Sighing, I open the door to my old beat-up Honda and get out. It’s a nice neighborhood. Just off campus—her parents must have money.

  There’s no doorman, but there’s an intercom. I hit the buzzer.

  “Hello?” She sounds breathless.

  “Hello, I’m Grayson Moore. I’m here for a Dianne?”

  “Diandra,” she corrects me.

  “Aww, geez, sorry. Diandra. My mom got your name wrong.”

  In truth, I got the name wrong. I knew it started with a D, and that’s about it.

  Laughter answers me as the door buzzes, allowing me to enter. Her apartment is on the ground floor. I rap my knuckles on her door, and she opens it immediately.

  Diandra has long, dark curly hair, amazing blue eyes, and is wearing a little black dress with six-inch high heels. The woman is gorgeous. This is no wilderbeast desperate for a date, she’s a goddess in search of worshippers.

  She cocks her head to the side and gestures for me to come in. “Hello, Grayson.” Her voice washes over me like silk.

  I stumble past her, and she giggles.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You’re gorgeous,” I blurt, then instantly regret it.

  Diandra stands in the open doorway, looking surprised. “What were you expecting?” She laughs. “Did my mother describe me as an ogre? Or a humpback? Or…” She draws out the last word.

  Holding up my hands in an apology, I say, “No, no, no!” I shake my head. “It’s all on me. I assumed because you couldn’t get a date that you were—” Realizing what I’m saying, I stop myself. My face is burning, and I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

  Diandra laughs. “Well, your mom told my mom that you were a handsome gentleman who needed to have some fun.” She shuts the door and walks past, winking at me. “But not too much fun.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Diandra turns, a scowl on her face that turns into a grin. “Don’t be. It’s always nice to receive a compliment and to be told I’m…” she does inverted commas in the air, “… dateable.”

  Nervously, I laugh. Diandra is confident. I like it.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “No, I’m not drinking.”

  A frown furrows her brow. “You don’t drink?”

  I smile. “No, I do. But I’ve got a game this week, so I need to keep in top shape. No drinking.”

  “No late nights, either?” Diandra asks as she picks up a glass filled with red wine and takes a sip.

  Trying to laugh it off, I nod and make light of it. “Great first date, huh? No drinking and home in bed by ten.”

  Diandra smiles. “First date? What makes you think you’re getting a second date, Grayson Moore?” she replies, in a lighthearted, teasing tone.

  I grin at her. “I’ve got a good feeling about you.”

  A giggle escapes her, and she puts the wine glass down. “Come on, let’s get to the party.”

  Suddenly, I don’t like the idea of sharing her with a crowd of people.

  “How about we go out to dinner instead? There’s a place not too far from here.”

  Diandra eyes me cautiously. “Dinner?” I nod. “Okay, so long as we go dutch.”

  I shake my head. “My momma would throttle me if she knew a lady paid her way on a date.”

  She giggles again. “Okay, dinner sounds good. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  “How come?”

  “I have a part-time job at an accounting firm.” Diandra stops herself, closes her eyes, and holds up a hand. “That sounded way more impressive than it should have. I do all the crappy jobs no one wants to do, but I’m learning a lot. It also means that sometimes, I work through lunch so I have everything ready for the afternoon. I’m trying to make myself indispensable to them.”

  “You’re studying accounting?”

  She nods. “I love numbers, always have.” Diandra picks up her purse. “You’re on a football scholarship, right?”

  “Yeah. There’s no way I’d be able to afford to go if I wasn’t.”

  Diandra is holding her clutch with both hands in front of her. “Should we go?” she asks with a shrug.

  “Sure.”

  She walks to her front door, opens it, and steps out into the hallway. While she’s locking up, I rush to the building’s door and hold it open for her. Diandra gives me a huge smile as she passes through, then I rush to my car so I can get the door.

  Diandra stops in front of my trusty Honda and looks at me sideways. “Are you sure you can pay for dinner?”

  Leaning an arm across the door of my car, I move slightly toward. her. “Never judge a man by his car.”

  Her lips go into a firm line as she tries to suppress her laughter. “Right. Got it.”

  She climbs in, and those lips turn up in a smile. I rush around to the driver’s side and get in, eager to spend more time with her.

  “It’s safe, right?” Diandra teases.

  “Hey! My baby is perfectly safe.”

  As if to embarrass me, my car backfires, and Diandra jumps. Her eyes go wide, and she grips the passenger side armrest. “Perfectly safe?”

&nbs
p; Pulling out into traffic, I laugh. “Mostly.”

  I have exactly twenty-two dollars and thirty-eight cents in my wallet.

  Dinner?

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Driving down by the river, I park a little way from the bridge and as close to our destination as I can. With those heels on, I’m not sure how far she can walk, so best to be cautious. Having a single mother raise you, you learn from an early age what women will and won’t do. My mom has shoes that are only good for sitting in and looking good, not walking long distances.

  “There’s a restaurant near here?”

  I nod. “It’s not far.”

  Diandra tilts her head to the side. “My mother and your mother know I’m with you.”

  My eyebrows draw together, and I’m sure my face is a mask of confusion. “And?”

  “If you’re planning on killing me, you’ll get caught.”

  Laughter rumbles up out of my chest. “It’s Friday night and not a full moon, so you’re safe.”

  Diandra links her arm with mine and laughs. “Good to know.”

  Together we walk along the river, the lights of the city reflecting off its surface. In the distance is a food truck, and I guide her toward it.

  “Do you enjoy going to school here?”

  I nod. “Yeah. It’s a nice city. The people are friendly, and the campus is great.”

  “I’ve been here for three months, but with working and classes, I haven’t explored the city properly.”

  “Wait, I thought you just moved here?”

  Diandra blushes and scrunches her eyebrows. “I have a confession to make.”

  “You’re married with three kids and a dog?” I tease.

  She shakes her head. “I’ve been to a couple of your games, and when I found out that my mom knew yours…”

  Unlinking my arm from hers, I stand in front of her. “Wait, you organized this?”

  “Yeah,” she admits, looking at the ground.

  “And you wanted to meet me?”

  There’s a smile on her lips, and Diandra looks me in the eyes. “Yes, I did.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “I might be a serial killer, but you sound like a stalker.”

  Diandra laughs, and her embarrassment vanishes. “We make an awesome pair.”

  Linking my arm back through hers, I point at the food truck. “Best hotdogs in town.”

  Diandra smiles. “I love hotdogs. You’re going to be harshly judged if they don’t stack up.”

  Walking up to the van, the owner, Bruno, leans out and yells a greeting, “Hey, Gray! You want your usual?”

  “Make it two.”

  Bruno gives me the thumbs up and gets to work. He has party lights set up at night and a few tables. It’s early, so there aren’t many people around. Later, when they’ve had too much to drink, they’ll stumble to Bruno’s for a hot meal. It’s well-known in the area as the place to go. I like it as Bruno always has a story to share, and it’s not expensive. Not that I’ve ever taken a date here before.

  “So, you’re a regular?”

  “Yeah,” I admit, as we sit at one of the tables. “I promise it’s good, and I hope you don’t mind me ordering for us both.”

  “I’m curious to see what your usual is.”

  Smiling, I ask, “So, where are you from?”

  “New York. Mom and Dad divorced eight years ago. Mom moved here, but Dad stayed. It made sense for me to be with him until I finished high school. I traveled around a bit after, and now, I’m here.”

  “You transferred in, though, right?”

  “Yes, it was my mother’s idea. I was having a hard time, and she thought a change of scenery would be good for me.”

  Grinning, I ask, “So, do you like the scenery?”

  Diandra laughs. “Well, it’s getting better by the minute.”

  “Hey, Gray, you want drinks too?” yells Bruno.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Dr. Pepper if he’s got it.”

  Standing, I jog the short distance to the van. Bruno holds out our food, and I take it off him, walking the dogs back to the table.

  When I get back to him, he’s grinning at me. “She’s pretty, Gray.”

  “Her name is Diandra, and yeah, she is,” I agree. “Hey, could I get a Dr. Pepper and a bottle of water, please?”

  “Sure thing, bud.”

  Bruno is in his late fifties, skinny as a rake, and is always smiling. I hand him twenty dollars, and he gives me my change.

  “Have a good night,” he says with a wink.

  “You too, old man.”

  “Hey, enough with the old shit!”

  Laughing, I go back to Diandra, who’s examining her meal.

  “It tastes better than it looks, I promise.”

  “It looks amazing.”

  “And don’t worry if you can’t eat it all… I can always help you out.”

  Diandra’s lips go up on one side of her mouth in a smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Woman, it wasn’t meant to be a challenge. You’re a tiny little thing. I just meant it’s a big meal for someone your size.”

  “I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’ve had a helluva day, and I’m starving. You just sit back and watch me eat it.”

  It’s nice to be with a woman who isn’t afraid to eat. My mom has never watched what she ate. Everything in moderation is her mantra. She doesn’t own a car and rarely takes public transportation. Mom walks everywhere, so it’s probably why she can afford to eat whatever she pleases.

  Diandra takes a big bite, and sauce oozes down her face. I jump up and grab some napkins from the food truck. When I get back to her, she’s trying to wipe her face with the back of her hand. Gratefully, she takes the napkins off me and tries to clean herself up.

  After she’s finished chewing, she says, “Thank you. I’m kind of a messy eater. I like to get involved in my food.”

  Laughing, I nod. “There’s no easy way to eat one of these, and I like extra sauce, pickles, tomatoes, and onions, so you’re bound to get messy.”

  “Good choices,” replies Diandra, as she takes another bite, sending more sauce down her chin.

  I don’t laugh at her. I’m happy she likes the meal, and she doesn’t even seem worried that dinner is a hotdog. Diandra looks out over the river and smiles. When she’s finished chewing, she looks back at me. “It’s a great spot. Thanks for bringing me here, Gray.”

  “You’re not upset we didn’t go to a party?”

  “No, this is perfect. Does Bruno do dessert?”

  “He might have some cream pie?”

  “My treat.” I shake my head, and she flutters a hand in front of my face. “No, really. Please let me.” Diandra giggles. “Of course, it all depends if I can fit this in. Maybe we could share a dessert?”

  “Let’s see how we do?”

  “Deal!”

  DIANDRA

  The noise of the stadium is deafening as people chant for their teams. I’m sitting in the bleachers with Minerva Moore, Gray’s mom.

  “Is it always like this?” I ask.

  Minerva smiles broadly at me. “No.” She laughs. “It’s normally louder.” I chuckle, and she wraps an arm around me. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Our college team runs onto the field, and the crowd roars.

  Minerva points to her son. “There he is, number twenty-two. Doesn’t his little butt look good in that uniform?”

  “Minerva!” I shriek, laughing.

  “Oh, hush. You two have been seeing each other for a month. I’m old, not dead. I remember what it was like.”

  My face heats up, and I stare out into the field. Gray and I haven’t gone all the way yet. We’re taking it slow. After my last encounter, I need to be sure he’s not mentally unstable. Not that Gray is anything like Anton. He was way too possessive and needed to know where I was twenty-four hours a day. Gray gives me space, but it’s early days.

  The ro
ar of the crowd brings me back to the present, and Minerva grabs my hand.

  “Here we go!”

  I know nothing about football. The only reason I’ve been to previous games was because a girl in one of my classes dragged me to them since she didn’t want to go alone. She wanted to see the football players in their tight uniforms. As soon as I saw Gray, I was smitten.

  Our first date was one of the best I’ve ever had. He was confident, funny, and that hotdog was one of the best I’ve ever had.

  Minerva stands. “Go, Gray!”

  Standing next to her, I try to find him on the field. It takes me a moment, his number twenty-two shining out like a beacon for me. Minerva sits, and I do too. She’s bouncing up and down, acting like a much younger woman.

  Her enthusiasm is catching.

  Before long, we’re at half-time, and Minerva is waving frantically at one of the hotdog vendors to get us something to eat and drink.

  “Are hotdogs okay?”

  “Minerva, let me get it.”

  She scowls at me and holds up two fingers to the man who comes right over.

  “And two Dr. Pepper’s,” I say as I hand him a note. “Keep the change.”

  Minerva scowls at me. “It was my treat.”

  “You can get it next time.”

  She nods. “You enjoying the game?”

  “Yes, it’s great.” Opening my Dr. Pepper, I take a sip and ask, “Are we winning?”

  Minerva slaps my thigh. “Yes, we’re winning!” Her laugher is infectious. “He’s blitzed the pass three times. My boy is on fire,” she proudly boasts.

  It’s obvious I need to do some research on football before the next game, as I have no clue what Minerva is talking about.

  “Has he always wanted to play?”

  Minerva takes a bite of her hotdog and nods. “Yeah, Gray’s a natural.” She smiles. ”It won’t be long before he gets the attention from one of the scouts for the pros.”

  “What will that mean?”

  “It’ll mean he’ll make enough money to do whatever he wants. Gray knows that football is a young man’s game, and he could easily get hurt. Has he told you about his five-year plan?” I shake my head. “Well, he will. I’ll leave that to him. He’s focused, eyes on the prize.”