Groupie (Juked Book 2) Read online

  “I’m serious,” I say. “Not about the reputation part. This is good. I think they are starting to realize I’m not around to snag a husband. I genuinely enjoy the game. So thank you.”

  “Hey, guys and gals,” Quincy says, poking her head out the door. “The birthday boy is starting to get cranky, so we might want to do his cake before he goes down for a nap. Come on in.”

  We shuffle through the door like cattle and back into the small apartment, where Chance is sitting in a blue highchair, naked from the waist up. He’s banging his hands on the white tray in front of him, and I have no idea where Quincy gets the idea he’s cranky. His smile is so big, I’m surprised his face isn’t cracking.

  After a terribly off-tune and off-beat verse of the Happy Birthday song, Chance digs into a yellow cupcake like his life depends on it while about six people take pictures. After a few minutes, Quincy goes into the kitchen by herself.

  Rowen nods when I whisper, “I’ll be right back,” in his ear.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” I ask Quincy, who’s standing half in the pantry. She startles and looks over at me, wiping a tear from her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a few steps toward her.

  She smiles at me. “I’m fine.” She chuckles when she sees the look on my face. “Really, I am. It’s just an emotional day. My sister hasn’t even been gone a year yet, so on special occasions like this, I’ll have a moment every once in a while. But I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so used to him being yours, I forget you’re raising your sister’s baby.”

  “Well, good,” she says and pats my arm on her way to the fridge. “I guess that means I’m doing my job as his surrogate mother.” She hands me a cantaloupe. “Would you put this on the counter over there? I forgot to cut up the fruit, so if you want to help, I could use a hand.”

  I put it down and open a couple of drawers before finding a knife that will cut through the rind. After washing my hands, I begin to work. “I’m really glad you and Daniel worked out,” I say. “He’s a great guy. He deserved to find a nice woman.”

  She smiles at me. “Daniel speaks very highly of you, you know.”

  I look at her quickly. “He does?”

  “Oh yeah. He gives you the credit for any media attention they get. For him, that’s huge.”

  I shrug. “They deserve it. Soccer is an underappreciated sport.”

  “No doubt. I still don’t understand all of it, but watching the amount of running they do exhausts me. And then you add in all the footwork. I still can’t even figure out half the lingo.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot to it.”

  We work in silence for a while, slicing up two cantaloupes, a watermelon, and a honeydew melon. I hope the baby likes melon, because she’s got enough to feed the entire team for a week.

  “I really appreciate you inviting us,” I say. “Rowen really likes Daniel and Christian, and I’m glad you let him include me, too.”

  She looks at me quizzically. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re part of the team, Tiffany, whether you know it or not.”

  I huff. “I’m sure everyone here knows what part of the team I am.”

  She puts her knife down and wipes her hands on a towel. “I’ll admit I was nervous about your… reputation for a while.” I grimace. “But I’m not here to judge you, Tiffany. What you do on your time is your business. I know where I stand with Daniel. I know where he stands with you. And that’s that. I know you’ve noticed who’s here.” I look around, taking in the dozen or so teammates in the apartment. “But I hope you also notice who is not here. Sure, a few people like to talk and spread rumors, but most of those who do it have a reputation that’s no better than yours. The difference is, you’re honest. When it boils down to it, I prefer to know where I stand with someone than be blindsided later, don’t you?”

  I nod once and swallow. I’m not sure anyone has ever phrased things quite the way Quincy has.

  “Well, anyway, thanks,” I say. She nods and I return to Rowen and the comfort of his team.

  “Mo boyo!” My dad pulls me in a tight hug as soon as I step through the front door, causing me to drop my bag on the floor. He’s never been shy with his affection for me.

  He offered to pick me up at the airport, but I got a rental car instead. It’s always a hassle because of my age, but I like the idea of not being dependent on my parents for anything. Call it lingering insecurities from trying to be my own person for so long.

  I pound him on the back a few times as we embrace. “Good to see you, Da.”

  “I missed you, mac,” he says and kisses me on the cheek, pulling away as my mom races over.

  “Rowen! I’m so glad you’re here. Take off that darn cap and give me a hug.” She snatches my beanie and throws it across the room, then wraps her arms around my waist. I hug her back tightly. My habit of covering my hair always irritates my mother. I expect I won’t see that beanie again until I go back to Houston in four days.

  “Me, too, Mam.” I lift my head and take a deep breath, inhaling the smells that always remind me of home. “Are you cooking already?”

  She pulls away and smiles. “I figured you’d be hungry by lunchtime, and I want to make sure you’re eating right.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Bangers and mash.” I groan. Bangers and mash is my favorite. It’s not hard to make—I could do it myself—but she makes the best sauce I’ve ever had. My mouth waters just thinking about it. “It’ll be ready soon,” she says patting my cheek. “That’ll give you time to get settled and rest a bit.”

  “Rest?” Dad scoffs. “We’re going for a run.”

  “He just got here, Ryan,” Mom says. “You guys can run this afternoon.”

  “We’ve got drills this afternoon,” he says with excitement. He loves playing soccer with me, especially now that I’m an adult. He loves the workout he gets when we play now that I’m old enough and good enough to challenge his skills. And he still has them. Never mind that he retired almost twenty years ago. “Just because yer in the off-season doesn’t mean ye get to slack off. Now go change. I’ll meet you out back in five minutes.”

  I kiss my mom on the cheek and grab my bag, heading toward my room. The house looks exactly the same as it always has; homey and full of family pictures. I glance at them as I walk up the stairs. There are lots of me as a baby, some of my dad in his glory days, some of my grandparents and extended family in Ireland, my cousins and family here in Detroit. The wall is covered. I find myself wondering if Tiffany will ever make her way onto this wall.

  That thought literally stops me in my tracks. I shake my head in an attempt to clear my brain. I really, really like her, but I also need to not get my hopes up. Like I told her the other day, life has a way of surprising you. And I hope my relationship with her turns out to be a good surprise.

  Five minutes later, I’m out back, stretching with my dad as we get ready to run.

  “How far are we going?” I ask, stretching my foot up to my rear.

  “I figured we’d do five miles around the neighborhood. I don’t want to push you too hard yer first day here.”

  “Are you sure you want to go that far? I don’t want your heart to give out, old man. Mam would never forgive me for all that wasted food.” He reaches over to smack me playfully, but I’m out of reach as I take off running.

  He quickly catches up, and we spend the next thirty minutes or so in silence. I have to give it to my old man. He may be in his early fifties, but he’s in tip-top shape. I see the way the neighbor women look at him when he goes running, or mows the lawn. Hell, I see the way they look at him when he’s going to the grocery store. Women have always gravitated toward him.

  I’m not sure how my mother has put up with it all these years. She’s never been the jealous type, even knowing everything about my dad’s past, which I assume she does since he told me about it. Can I be like that? Can I put my own jealousy aside and trust Tiffany to have eyes only for me?


  It’s not as intense as my run would normally be, but we break a good sweat making our loop around the neighborhood.

  Mam has left lukewarm water bottles on the deck for us. We rehydrate and catch our breath before stretching. Stretching almost takes longer than the run, but for a soccer player, it has to. You never know what position your legs are going to end up in during a scrimmage, and you don’t want to tear a muscle due to lack of flexibility.

  “You gonna tell me more about this girl?” Da asks as he pushes me deeper into my runner’s stretch. We’ve touched on the subject of Tiffany briefly over the last couple of weeks, but we’ve never had time to go in depth about her. I guess now is the time.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “You aren’t going to deny you’re seeing her?”

  “Why would I? I like her.” He releases me, and we move into another stretch. He’s helped me do this so many times for so many years, it’s second nature.

  “I know ye had some concerns in the beginning because of her lifestyle. I’m curious what’s changed.”

  “I’m not sure anything’s changed,” I say with a strained voice. “I don’t like how much she parties. She thinks she has friends with benefits. And I think they treat her like shit, and she doesn’t realize it.”

  “But can you handle knowing she does it?”

  “Not does, Da. Did. We had a long discussion about where I stand and how I can’t share someone with my teammates. She agrees with me, 100 percent. When she’s single, she likes to go out and have fun. That’s her idea of fun, it’s not mine. But when she’s in a relationship, she’s faithful.”

  Standing up, we move on to shoulder stretches. “So does that mean you’re in a relationship now?”

  “We’re dating exclusively. Seeing where it takes us. The girl can talk sports like no guy I’ve ever met.”

  His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. She’s a sports producer, so it isn’t just soccer. Football, baseball, tennis… you name it, she knows it inside and out. And she’s an amazing producer. One of the best in her field. She was hired straight out of college, which is like being drafted into the pros after graduation. So she’s the best of the best. She is loyal to a fault. I mean, you know what a dick Mack Shivel is.” He nods. “I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone on the team. Not even him. She’s smart and funny and witty…

  I stop my rave after seeing my mom has joined us. A blush creeps up when I realize how much I was gushing about Tiffany. I must look like a love-sick puppy to them.

  She hands me another bottle of water, which I promptly open and drink. “Don’t be embarrassed about how you feel, Rowen. Sounds like a great girl.”

  “She is,” I agree.

  “I find it interesting that you named all these wonderful characteristics about her and never once mentioned her looks.”

  I think about that for a second. “She’s stunning, Mam. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But if something happened to her looks, it wouldn’t matter. Because she’s so damn beautiful on the inside.”

  Mam pats my cheek. “I have lunch ready for you boys when you’re done with your cool down.” She turns to walk back into the house, but stops in front of my dad. “You had that look on your face when you were twenty-seven-years old. He has it at twenty-three. I think I just lost my spot as the most important woman in his life.” Da kisses her forehead, and she walks back into the house.

  “I think you guys are making more out of this than it is,” I say, taking another swig of my water.

  “I disagree.”

  “We haven’t been dating that long.”

  “Neither did your mam and I.”

  “That’s an awful lot of pressure to put on me after a handful of dates. I’m not marrying her any time soon.”

  “No one’s putting pressure on you, Rowen. You’re a grown man. You make your own choices. I admit I’ve been nervous about this relationship, because I’ve seen too many friends be wronged by a woman with bad intensions. But your mam’s right. I can see ye feel deeply for this girl.”

  “Da, she’s not a cleat chaser. She just really likes soccer. She also really likes… I mean….” Another blush creeps up my face.

  He nods in understanding and doesn’t make me go any further. “But is that going to change where your priorities lie? It’d be a shame for you to fall into bed with her after waiting this long. You have an end goal for yourself. I don’t want you to lose sight of where your boundaries are.”

  I sit back on my hands, legs stretched in front of me, and my stomach growls. “I think that means it’s time to shower so we can eat.”

  He slaps me on the back as we walk into the house. “Don’t take too long. I’ve been waiting for this meal since your mother went to the grocery store the other day.”

  “You mean she doesn’t make you traditional Irish meals anymore?”

  He grunts. “Says she spent too many years catering to me, so she makes me take her out for fancy dinners. She deserves it, sure. But I look forward to you coming to visit so I can have the leftovers when yer gone.”

  I laugh and climb the steps two at a time to get my bathroom stuff. The light on my phone is flashing; I know I missed at least one text while we were out. It’s from Tiffany.

  Wanted to make sure you got in okay.

  I smile. It’s been years since anyone besides my mother cared enough to check on me. It’s nice.

  Got in about 10. My da and I have already been on a 5-mile run.

  Tiffany: Good! Training doesn’t stop just because you’re in the off-season.

  Don’t worry. I’m sure Da will have me running drills this afternoon.

  Tiffany: Lol. It’s the benefit of having a father who has the same job you do.

  HAD. He HAD the same job. And it’s also a curse. I was hoping to be lazy the next few days.

  Tiffany: I’m sure there will be lots of that while you’re there, too. I hope you have fun.

  I will.

  I put my phone down, but a thought crosses my mind. I pick it up again. Hey, can I ask you a weird question?

  Tiffany: Sure.

  Does it bother you? Where I stand on the issue of sex?

  Tiffany: What do you mean?

  Part of me feels bad that I’m denying you something you enjoy. Does it bother you I don’t plan on sleeping with you yet? To clarify: it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I want to wait until I’m married.

  I look at my phone, waiting for a response. A few minutes later, when one still hasn’t come, I realize I have to keep myself from going insane while I wait. I take the world’s fastest shower, hoping there will be a response when I get back.

  There is.

  I respect and admire your values. They are part of you and part of what attracts me to you. I like sex. But I like you more. I like the idea of building a relationship based on a different kind of intimacy than I’ve ever had before. If all goes well, maybe I’ll be the lucky one who gets to “pop your cherry.” ;)

  I throw my head back and laugh. Leave it to Tiffany to find the words to make a text message a combination of sweet, sexy, and funny.

  Fingers crossed, I respond.

  I get dressed with a big smile on my face. Then I go back downstairs to enjoy the first home-cooked meal I’ve had in months.

  Compared to other sports, the off-season for soccer is very, very short. Only a couple months long, depending on a team’s playoff schedule. But the past two months have been some of the most fun I can remember in a long time.

  On the party front, things died down a lot. The players with families tend to go on a lot of vacations when they’re not spending time at home. Most of the single players head to their home town. It’s easier to save money when they’re living with their parents and training at a local gym.

  Rowen, however, stuck around, and I suspect it had to do with me.

  We spent those weeks really getting to know eac
h other. We explored tourist spots all over the city. We went to Galveston for a day trip. We did a lot of people-watching.

  We went to almost every museum in Houston, including my favorite, the John C. Freeman Weather Museum. There’s so much to see and do there, including a room with a cyclone chamber and a fake weather studio where you can videotape yourself giving a weather report. Rowen and I were equally bad in front of the camera, and I walked out of there with a new appreciation for my meteorologist coworkers. Pointing at the right spot on a green screen isn’t as easy as it looks.

  Rowen and I also spent a lot of time just hanging out. We watched movies and cooked dinner and took walks. Except for when he went home for the holidays, and when I was working and he was working out, we were together almost every day.

  The more time we spent together, the more we grew to like each other. I learned to enjoy lounging on the couch while he read a book. He learned to enjoy dressing up and going dancing. He even started leaving the beanie behind when we went out.

  It’s the slowest developing relationship I’ve ever had, but it also feels the strongest and is by far the most fun. It isn’t based on lust at all. It’s based on genuine enjoyment of each other.

  This, of course, increases the lust level ten-fold whenever we make out. For the most part, Rowen is so strong, he can keep things well under control. There have been a few times though when I could tell he was crumbling. Usually it’s when I’m straddling him on the couch with my tongue in his mouth while I tug at his hair. That’s when I am the one to slow things down and send him home for a cold shower.

  I want him badly, but his virginity is important to him; therefore, it’s important to me.

  “Are you sure you want to go out tonight?” Rowen asks, sitting on my bed, flipping through the latest edition of Sport Illustrated. “Doesn’t a quiet night in sound nice?”