Page 82 of Forecasting the Forward

First it was Daws calling to ask about some odd recipe he wanted to try to make for Cassie when he gets home. I know I cook the most out of the guys, but I’m not Gordon Ramsey for fuck’s sake. Look that shit up on the Internet, and leave me out of it.

Then my mother called to ask for more money. We got in a shouting match, and I blocked her number. I haven’t spoken to her since before the birthday olives incident, and I have zero desire to deal with her again. She only wants to keep me around because I send her money, and I’m done with that now.

And now someone is knocking at my door.

“Isn’t there a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door?” I grumble as I throw open the door, then stare in shock as Becca giggles at me.

“There is a sign, but I figured you didn’t want me hanging in the hallway,” she says breathily. I don’t waste a second before dragging her into my room and burying my face in her hair.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice muffled. God, I can’t get close enough to her. Pressing her against the nearest wall, I crowd against her body, and love feeling her arms wind tightly around my back.

“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I needed to see you,” she mumbles.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re here.” God, I needed this. The last thirty-six hours have been so full of nerves and anxiety that I wasn’t sure how I’d make it until tomorrow. I was already thinking of asking Coach if I could take a red-eye flight back to Denver right after the game. I hate our flight schedule. It’s something our previous coach implemented, and I don’t know why Coach Davenport hasn’t changed it. So many teams do night flights, but the Wolves have always flown early in the morning. Finishing the game here, and then having to go back to a hotel instead of flying home? Ridiculous, especially when looking at gaining time zones as we fly west.

“How did you know what room I was in?” I ask, my voice a quiet murmur against her hair.

“A friend of a friend,” she replies, and I chuckle.

“Oh yeah? Any friend that I might know?”

She lifts her head to look at me, and I get lost in her beautiful green eyes. God, she brings me such peace. “I asked our sports director to contact your coach. That’s how I got the room number.”

“That tracks,” I respond, pulling her back into my embrace and resting my head on top of hers as she burrows into my arms. “Coach was probably thrilled. He knows I’ve been struggling. I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I missed you too, Jacob,” Becca says softly, and I squeeze her harder, breathing her in.

“How are you even here? You didn’t hint at this last night when we talked, or when I texted you this morning.”

“I didn’t know until this morning. When I got your text … I knew I needed to be here. I had to see you,” she says shyly. I lift my head to look at her face, and find a pink hue coloring her cheeks.

I see her cheek, slightly puffy and red. I gently cup her face before saying, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, darlin’. Was that all he did?”

She shakes her head, and my eyes narrow. “He punched me in the stomach, but then Thunder bit his balls.”

“What?” I exclaim with a loud exhale. “The happiest dog on the planet bit your brother?”

“He saw a threat, I guess,” she says with a shrug. “It’s okay now. My brother got arrested, and I’m okay.”

I drag my fingers along her hairline, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. This wonderful woman has been dragged through the gauntlet, and she’s here trying to calm me down. “I think I’m gonna buy the biggest dog chew I can find for my buddy Thunder. He deserves one hell of a treat for protecting you while I was gone.”

Her eyebrows raise as she looks at me with surprise. “Have you been researching dog treats?”

I nod. “I know rawhide isn’t good for them, so I Googled what kinds of things I can give him. Also what human foods he can’t have.”

“I love that you did that, Jacob,” she says shyly before changing the subject. “Did I interrupt anything important? Naptime perhaps?”

“I was trying to nap,” I admit. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“I don’t want to screw with your game day preparations. I can be quiet.”

My eyes dip to her mouth, and I’m suddenly not even remotely tired. Her lips part enough to make my dirty thoughts take flight. “Not thinking about sleep, darlin’.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh. Think I can give you at least a couple O’s instead,” I say huskily as my hands slide down to grip her ass. I lift her, reveling in how she automatically wraps her legs around my hips.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have a workout so close to a game,” she says with a giggle that turns into a moan as my lips find her collarbone.

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