The Bombshell Effect: A single dad sports romance (Washington Wolves Book 1)

Fifteen months later

“I really, really wish I didn’t have to go,” I said against Allie’s smiling lips.

Her laughter was throaty and quiet, so I touched my mouth to the side of her neck to feel the vibrations of that sound underneath her skin.

“You don’t have a choice,” she answered.

Outside of our bedroom door, I could hear Faith banging around in the kitchen, making me some sort of good luck cookies that I would probably pass off to some of the younger guys who could still get away with eating sugary shit like that before a big game.

This, of course, being the biggest game.

How fortunate that Seattle had been chosen a couple of years ago as the host for the Super Bowl this year. Made our commute awfully convenient.

But I didn’t want to go to a hotel even if it was how we did things. I wanted to stay in my home, with my fiancée and my daughter. I wanted to wake up with Allie tucked into my side as I always did. I wanted to get up and help Faith make her pancakes, as that was the only thing Allie wouldn’t immediately puke up these days.

And at seven weeks pregnant, she puked a lot. According to her, Rico carried a puke bag in his pocket now when he did the pre-game walkthrough on the field. Thank goodness she hadn’t had to use it yet, because then the media would definitely hear the good news before we were ready for them to.

I wrapped my arms around Allie and growled unhappily, which made her laugh again.

“You know, for a guy about to play in the Super Bowl, you should be a lot more focused on the game than you currently are.” Her words were light and teasing, and she rubbed her nose against mine as she said them.

I ran my hand up her back and kissed her again. “I’ll be focused tomorrow. Actually, as soon as I walk out the door, I’ll forget you exist.”

She pinched my side, and I twisted away laughing.

“Liar.”

Humming, I leaned in and pulled her lower lip between my teeth. Allie sighed contentedly and met my kiss, snaking her tongue into my mouth and gripping my hair tightly.

Something crashed outside the door, and she broke away on a laugh. “I should probably go see what she’s doing.”

“You’re going to help her bake?” My eyebrows lifted skeptically. “I think I’ll leave now before it gets too messy.”

Allie snuggled in closer and pressed her forehead to the side of my throat. “Probably for the best. You know what happens when I get involved in her little experiments.”

I chuckled, but mess or no mess, even if I wouldn’t eat what Faith was baking, the moments that my two favorite girls stood in the kitchen and spilled flour and sugar and cinnamon and whatever the hell else unhealthy creations they loved to share were some of my favorite moments in the world.

Allie and I might not be married yet—we’d scheduled that event for two weeks after the Super Bowl, just in case we made it that far—but the moment we made our relationship oh-so-very public, she’d stepped into Faith’s life like she’d been born to mother her.

Actually, that on-field display was what put us on Sports Illustrated for the second time that season. Every photographer in the place caught it from a different angle, but the best one made the cover, which was currently framed in my office downstairs.

Allie in my arms, us smiling at each other, just before she kissed me. It might have broken the internet for a few days—our story and my very public declaration—but it died down quickly enough.

We got engaged quietly six months later, which was when she moved in, and at the beginning of the following season, we set our wedding date. It would be a quiet affair, close friends and family, a handful of teammates and front office staff, on Orcas Island, overlooking the water.

“I know this is a bad owner thing for me to say,” Allie whispered, “but I’ll be really happy not to have to share you for a few months. Just the three of us, living life, sounds pretty perfect right now.”

This. This was why I didn’t want to leave.

I wanted to win. I wanted that so bad it made my body shake. We’d missed the Super Bowl the year before after a grueling, last-minute loss in the AFC Championship, and everything about this past season felt like vindication.

For me, certainly. But Allie too. She’d defied the odds as well, and as much as I wanted to be standing in a fall of red and black confetti twenty-four hours later for myself, for my teammates, I wanted it for her too.

She’d be able to hold the trophy and do it while wearing my ring on her finger, with our child inside her.

The thought had my inner caveman growling again, my arms banding around her slender form even more tightly.

“Do you think we’ll win?” she asked as if she read my thoughts.

I breathed in slowly. Before a game like this, I was strict in my avoidance of all the talking heads. No SportsCenter. No Pardon the Interruption. No Mike and Mike in the Morning. I didn’t want to know what they had to say.

If we won, it would be because we were more prepared. Because we would play better. The preparation was something I was confident in.

And our play would be decided tomorrow evening. There was nothing I could do about that until the moment the ball was kicked into the air.

But I knew what I felt in my gut. I’d felt it all week. That churning, bubbling sense of anticipation that came before a big win. When everything clicked seamlessly into place.

“Yeah, I think we will,” I told her. If anyone else had asked me, I’d never say that out loud. “I can feel it, Allie. It feels like our time.”

She smiled. Her hand came up to cup the side of my face, and I turned so I could kiss her palm. “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you that today?”

“Not yet.” I kissed her. “You’re slackin’, Sutton.”

Her blue-green eyes got serious when I pulled back. They searched my face intently, the way they did when it felt like she was able to read my mind. She was the only one who could.

“I don’t care if you never played another snap or won another game, there’s no one on this earth who I’m more proud of. As good as you are out there, it’s nothing compared to the man you are right here.”

Allie moved against me, not to incite or entice, but to wrap herself around me so fully, so completely that I felt her everywhere. What had I ever done before her love?

It was impossible to try to remember what each day was like before I had her in it. Thank God I didn’t have to.

“I love you,” I said against the silky smooth skin of her forehead, then I kissed her there.

“I love you too,” she whispered back. Another crash in the kitchen had Allie exhaling a laugh, carefully extricating herself from my arms. “I better go help her.”

“I should go anyway.” My hand pulled her back for one more searching, deep kiss.

Allie smirked as she stood off the bed, and I gave a quick caress against her still flat belly. “You better pretend you’re going to eat those cookies, Pierson.” She gave me a warning look and left the room.

I heard Faith laugh as soon as Allie joined her, and I smiled instantly at the sound.

Maybe I’d hold the trophy one more time, and maybe I wouldn’t.

But for the rest of my life, I’d already won.