Page 41 of Tight End
“Evenin’, Marissa,” one of the security guards said, opening the barrier for me without needing to check anything. “Hell of a game.”
“A great season opener,” I agreed, breathless with pride.
I walked past the family area and waved at a few people who smiled my way. I wasn’t just covering the Nighthawks, I was part of their world.
Turning the corner around the nearest hallway, I shifted to the wall beside the double doors where the media who weren’t authorized for locker room interviews could wait. With my connection to Raiden, it would’ve been easy for me to get access.Especially since I’d been assigned by my network to report from the press box for all home games.
But my caveman of a husband wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me anywhere near his teammates while they were half-dressed, even with a huge rock on my finger and my belly swollen with his children. So our sideline reporter was the one who went in there for interviews instead of me. A man, thank goodness, or I might have thrown a fit before I could stop myself. I conveniently blamed the urge on pregnancy hormones.
The locker room doors finally burst open, and Raiden strode out like he’d just walked off the cover of Sports Illustrated. His dark hair was damp, and his grin was huge. As it should be after a three-touchdown game.
He stopped the moment his eyes found me. His entire focus was locked on me.
On us.
His gaze dropped to my belly, then lifted back to my face with a gleam in his eyes that made my knees weak.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, already reaching for me.
“Hi,” I whispered, my breath catching when his big hands framed my hips in a firm grip.
“You look good.” His voice rumbled against my skin as he dipped down, brushing his nose against my temple. “Did our kids like the game?”
I laughed softly. “They kicked the back of my ribs every time you scored.”
“Smart kids.”
His smile widened, and then he captured my mouth in a long and impossibly tender kiss that melted the noise around us into nothing.
A couple of players whooped as they walked by. Someone muttered, “Get a room, Shaffer,” but Raiden didn’t pull away.His hands just slid to my lower back, holding me close while he kneaded my sore muscles.
When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine. “Knew you were up there watching. Made me play harder.”
“It showed in your stats.” I stroked my palm across his bearded cheek.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I like having you as my good-luck charm.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’re just talented.”
“What I am is insanely in love with my wife,” he corrected.
My heart was overflowing as he kissed me again, not caring when there was a lightbulb flash as someone snapped a photo of us. I was too happy to worry about what anyone else thought about me…and too used to being a part of the news now, not just the one reporting it.
EPILOGUE
RAIDEN
Central Park in early summer smelled like fresh-cut grass, roasted peanuts from the cart halfway down the path, and the faint mineral tang of the reservoir a block away. Sun slanted low through the leaves, warm gold across the picnic blanket we’d staked out not twenty minutes earlier. I should have been relaxed, soaking in the soft hum of New York at dusk, but something inside me hummed with energy every time Marissa’s laughter drifted across the lawn.
She was barefoot, chasing our twins with that easy grace she’d never lost even after retiring her skates, blond hair whipping over her shoulders in a loose braid the little monsters had tugged on all afternoon. The twins were now two years old and convinced the world existed solely for their entertainment. They squealed and dodged between park benches, cheeks apple-red, curls bouncing, the very picture of mischief. Marissa herded them back toward the blanket with a patience I still didn’t understand, one palm braced at the small of her back, where our third child had been since she was six months along. I watched the fabric pull smooth over her belly every time shestraightened, and a heat that had nothing to do with the weather crawled under my skin.
She corralled Kyler first and deposited him on the edge of the blanket with a lidded cup of strawberry yogurt drops. Kayte followed, plopping down cross-legged, curls escaping her ponytail like they always did. The second their hands were busy fishing snacks from the container, Marissa exhaled a weary sound and let gravity win. She dropped to her knees beside them, braced both hands on the cooler’s rim. I leaned over quickly and helped her lower herself to sit.
Then I bit into an apple, the crunch echoing while I stared at my incredible wife. She grew even more gorgeous every day. I held back a grin as my eyes dropped to her stomach. Especially when she was carrying my baby.
Marissa swiped a bead of sweat from her temple and narrowed her blue eyes at me.
“I can’t believe you did this to me again, Shaffer.” The accusation was half huff, half laughter, but all exasperated affection. “Three kids under three?”
