Winger (Seattle Sharks 3)

She ran away.

Leaving me standing there like a fucking idiot.

“Oh God,” she moaned—but nothing like the way I remembered.

This was jagged and raw and…

Oh.

Oh.

I snapped out of the rejection and hurried to the bathroom down the hall.

Jeannine wretched through the closed door, and I cringed.

My hand on the knob, I paused before opening it.

“Can I come in?”

“Go. Away.”

I pressed my lips into a line and took a deep breath.

“Let me help you,” I tried again.

Another wave hit her, the sound stinging my stomach.

“Nothing can help me. Go, save yourself.”

I bit my lip to hide the laugh.

This woman. Funny and smart and so damn stubborn.

A groan and a sigh and I felt the worst was over.

Still, I hurried to the kitchen, wetting a cloth with ice cold water.

Jeannine was coming out of the bathroom by the time I made it back. She eyed the rag, but I put my hand on the small of her back, guiding her into my bedroom. The touch was searing but innocent and definitely not nearly enough.

“Here,” I said, gesturing for her to lay down. She obeyed, slipping under the covers easily enough.

The king size bed threatened to swallow her whole, and I focused on the light sheen of green on her skin to stop from noticing how incredible she looked in my bed. It didn’t really stop me from picturing all the ways in which I wanted her.

“Rory told me this helps,” I said, placing the rag on the back of her neck.

“It’ll get your pillow all wet,” she said, her voice so, so damn tired.

“I don’t care,” I said. “Better?” I asked when she’d closed her eyes against the cool contact.

She nodded.

“Good.” I rubbed the back of my neck, not sure what to do. I wanted to sit down next to her and massage her back or front or feet or whatever she needed, but I knew she’d never tell me what she actually needed. I’d have to pay such close attention. “I thought morning sickness was supposed to ease by this point?” I asked, still standing there gazing down at her.

“So they keep telling me.” She slowly opened her eyes. “What did you do last night, Google all things pregnancy related?” she joked.

I forced out a laugh, glancing at the floor.

“You didn’t.”

I shrugged. “Just a little.” That was a lie. I’d spent hours reading up on everything—even some things I’d rather forget. “I may have had the guys give me a crash course, too.”

She chuckled, but it was half-groan. “You didn’t need to do that,” she said, rolling to her left side, an arm draped protectively over her belly. “I’ve totally got this under…” she sucked in a sharp breath. “Control.”

A blink and I was there, leaning over her, my arms supporting me as I neared her face.

“I get that, Nine,” I said. “I really do. You don’t need me. But I’m here.”

Something flashed over her eyes—fear and hope and worry all mixed together.

I allowed myself one more innocent touch as I trailed a finger over her forehead, tucking the wild hairs away from her face. “Now, rest,” I ordered. “I’m going to the store to stock up on crackers and ginger ale and anything else you want.”

A small smile shaped her perfect, pouty lips. “You don’t have to—”

My growl cut her off, and she glared at me.

“Ice cream,” she said.

“What kind?”

“Chocolate.” She sighed, her brow furrowing as something happened inside of her that I couldn’t see. “Just chocolate.”

“You got it,” I said, shoving off the bed and fixing the covers over her. “You should sleep.”

“It’s nearly five pm.”

“So?” I shrugged in the doorway. “You worked way too hard today.” I cocked a brow at her, daring her to argue.

For once, she didn’t. She simply closed her eyes and settled deeper against my pillows.

I tapped the doorway, turning.

“Thank you,” I heard her say as I walked away.

“Anytime,” I said back, not sure if she heard me, and not sure if she’d meant for me to hear her.

I grabbed my keys and sank behind the wheel of my car—my driver on standby during the offseason. Starting the ignition, I shook my head.

Jeannine had only been in my house for an hour, and we’d laughed, fought, and I’d been seconds away from kissing her.

It was going to be a long three months, especially if she continued to battle me at every turn.

A smirk shaped my lips as I backed out of my driveway.

Maybe it would be more fun than I could hope for.

Chapter 5

Jeannine

“Are you sure, Rafael?” I asked, glancing around my kitchen like I’d never see it again.

“Yes, Chef,” he said, even though I’d asked him for years to call me Jeannine or Nine.

“I don’t want to put too much pressure on you,” I said, but it was more like I didn’t want to take these last three months off of work.

I did, but I didn’t.

I’d always worked. And when I wasn’t working, I thought about work. Even while I’d played up my single lifestyle, I did so with my career in mind.

“It’s not,” he said. “I promise. I can do this.”

I knew he could. That’s why he’d be my head chef over at the fourth location whenever I got the go-ahead to open it. This would be good practice for him, and I’d get some much-needed time away from throwing up constantly because of the food smell.

Yesterday flashed through my mind—the way Warren had been so gentle and yet so damn primal as he ordered me to rest and let him take care of me. I wasn’t used to it, and every instinct roared at me to not get used to it…but it was nice.

Surprising.

And he had helped.

“The doctors assure me once I have the baby I’ll be back to normal and able to handle all the smells again.”

He nodded. “We’ll be glad to have you back then, but in the meantime,” he said. “Just go. Rest. Don’t worry about this. Take care of that proper tiny chef.” He pointed to my stomach. “And then you’ll come back, likely with a new menu and as brilliant as ever.”

I wrapped him in a hug. “You’re seriously the best.”

“I know,” he teased. “Now go.”

I took one last glance around, silently promising my first baby—my restaurant—I’d be back.

“I’m only a phone call away if you need anything,” I said as I walked toward the doors. “And I’ll still be overseeing the benefit and preparing for it.”

“You’re the boss, boss. Always will be.” He waved at me before glancing up to look at the incoming tickets. The boy was good. And I’d never be able to thank him enough for this time.

The grin was still on my face as I sank into Warren’s SUV parked outside the restaurant. This time he was behind the wheel, looking delicious in a pair of dark jeans and white long-sleeved henley.

“Everything go okay?” He asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

“As good as it could.”

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think. It’s just crazy…the idea of not working for four or so months.” Because while this three-months off was a luxury, the next two would be a necessity. For the baby.

Holy hell baby we’re not too far off.

I was assaulted with three big kicks as if baby-ball heard me.

“I know,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street. “The first time we hit off-season, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The guys and I made a habit of going to the gym every day, doing pick-up games, that kind of thing, but the stillness…it’s enough to drive you crazy.”

“Gee thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled. “Sorry. It’s not like you’re being still, though.” His eyes flashed to my tummy for a brief second before returning to the road. “You’re working even when you’re not working.”

“True.” I rubbed my hands over my stomach. “So, where are we headed today?” I asked, ready to change the subject and get my mind off leaving work. It would take more than a few days to get used to.

“Crossing a number off the list,” he said.

Butterflies joined the kicking baby in my tummy. Any number on that list would be completely new territory for me. Good thing I was being pretty flexible about embracing the new.

“And you’re still certain this is what you want to spend your off-season doing?” I asked, glancing at him from the passenger seat.