Sacked (The New York Nighthawks 1)

My nose scrunched at the thought of the kinds of things women might send my brother through social media. “Yeah, I’m going to avoid his direct messages like the plague.”

“Smart plan,” she murmured as we joined the line for the concession stand.

Watching as the guy piled cheese sauce, ground beef, fresh jalapeños, and salsa into a bag of corn chips, I decided that I needed a walking taco too. As I reached into my purse to pull out my wallet, Sally wrapped her fingers around my wrist. “Your money isn’t good here.”

“Oh, but I—”

“No, really.” She leaned close and whispered, “The guy who runs the stand refuses to let me pay because he loves being a part of the ritual. It makes him feel as though he’s doing his part to help the team win.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” I settled my purse over my shoulder again.

After we got our walking tacos, we headed over to grab some cotton candy—I couldn’t risk the temptation of one of my favorite treats—before returning to our seats. Then we basically ate our way through the next half of the game, celebrating a Nighthawks’ touchdown with a hot dog in the third period and one in the fourth with churros. When Prentice Wright, their quarterback, took a knee to run down the clock for the past thirty-nine seconds, their win was clinched.

Sally patted my knee when I started to get up. “Let the crowd thin out, and then we’ll head down to the post-game room. It’ll take a while for your brother to shower and change, so there’s no need to rush.”

The woman seated on the other side of Sally leaned across her lap to add, “We don’t have to wait at the player’s lot exit, so we don’t need to worry about all the fans lining up to see the guys as they leave.”

“The post-game room isn’t fancy, but at least it’s private,” one of the wives sitting behind us murmured.

The other woman nodded. “And it gives us a chance to catch up with everyone while we wait for our men.”

“All of the families usually head down there, along with close friends and former teammates,” Sally explained.

Nixon had told me to follow Sally so he could find me more easily because the parking lot was crazy after games, but I hadn’t expected there to be a crowd. Hopefully I wouldn’t feel too out of place while I waited for him since I didn’t know anyone other than Sally. But I was looking forward to finally getting the chance to meet some of his friends…and maybe even catch a glimpse of some of the famous players on the team. Like Prentice Wright, the hunky quarterback.

2

Prentice

I zipped up my duffel and slung it over my shoulder, then rapped my knuckles on my helmet, just like I did any time I left the Nighthawks’ locker room.

There was always a high after a win, but I was also tired as fuck. I certainly wasn’t past my prime by any means, but at thirty-two, I wasn’t a young buck either. Going out and partying hadn’t been my scene for a long time. I was looking forward to going home, having a long soak in my hot tub, and going to bed.

But first, I needed to catch Sally in the post-game room. We were planning a big bash for Chuck, the head coach, and she wanted to give me the number of Emma Hensley, the elite NYC wedding planner she’d used for her daughter’s nuptials. Apparently, Emma had agreed to plan this party as a favor to Sally.

There was a strange crackle in the air when I entered the room, and I suddenly felt a little off balance. I shook the sense of disorientation off and lifted my chin at Sally when she waved.

She bustled over with a smile and gave me a hug. “Great game!” Then she handed me a business card.

“Thanks. To both,” I said with a smile as I slipped the card into my pocket. “I’ll give her a call next week.”

“Fantastic!” Sally beamed at me and gave me another hug. “I’m going to go find Chuck. Say hello to your brother for me.”

“Will do,” I replied before she hurried off to find her husband. I was about to leave as well, but as I turned around, my eyes landed on a stunning creature. My breath caught in my throat, and my cock came alive. If I hadn’t been so blown away by the woman I was staring at, I would have been shocked that my dick was showing any interest in a woman, for the first time in years.

She wasn’t very tall—then again, a lot of people seemed short when you were looking down at them from six feet and five inches.

Her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her gorgeous blue eyes, pert nose, and full, pink lips. My gaze slid lower, to her slender neck, generous tits, soft stomach, and wide, round hips. Fuck. She was made for sex. Made for having babies. Made for me.