Halo Violation: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright 2016 by Daphne Swan

  All rights reserved, including the right to publish this book or portions therof (except for reviews, news media reports, brief quotes with attribution, and purposes of promotion of this book in any form whatsoever.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  ALSO BY DAPHNE SWAN

  HALO VIOLATION

  1. MOLLY

  2. ERIC

  3. MOLLY

  4. MOLLY

  5. ERIC

  6. MOLLY

  7. ERIC

  8. MOLLY

  9. MOLLY

  10. MOLLY

  11. ERIC

  12. MOLLY

  13. ERIC

  14. MOLLY

  15. ERIC

  16. MOLLY

  17. ERIC

  18. ERIC

  19. MOLLY

  20. ERIC

  21. MOLLY

  22. ERIC

  23. MOLLY

  24. ERIC

  25. MOLLY

  27. ERIC

  28. MOLLY

  EPILOGUE

  HEARTS IN OVERTIME

  1. CHARLOTTE

  2. RYAN

  3. CHARLOTTE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO BY DAPHNE SWAN

  ALSO BY DAPHNE SWAN

  Hearts in Overtime

  The Billionaire & the BBW

  Stoking His Heart

  The Master & his Muse

  Strumming the Rock Star

  My Gorgeous Greek God

  Christina’s Dream Date

  Flirting with the Forbidden

  Taboo Temptations

  My Big, Beautiful Bundle

  HALO VIOLATION

  A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  Daphne Swan

  1. MOLLY

  The bartender drops our cherry bombs on the bar with a dramatic flair before hurrying off to help another patron.

  Nice.

  Nina and I exchange a smile as we pick our shot glasses up and hold them aloft.

  “Cheers, girl. I’ve missed you like crazy, you know,” she says.

  “Oh my god, me too. It’s so good to see you again, sweetie. Cheers.”

  I clink my glass against hers and then proceed to slam down my cherry bomb. Ooh, that’s good. The cherry vodka and Red Bull is the most brilliant combination, ever. Not only is it tasty and potent, but it also gives you the most fabulous burst of energy that can turn a humdrum night into an epic experience.

  Not that tonight is anything close to being humdrum. I always have a blast with Nina. She’s been my bestie ever since junior high, and I haven’t seen her since summer vacation. And tonight is something of a landmark. Although the two of us have been frequenting bars in Manhattan since our senior year in high school, this is the first time we’ve both been able to leave our fake IDs at home. We are both now officially of the legal drinking age.

  Cheers to being a law-abiding citizen!

  After I slam my empty shot glass down on the bar, I turn to Nina with a grin. “So, how’s it going with Dylan?”

  Dylan is this philosophy student that Nina has the hots for. Even though she’s way over on the other side of the country at UC Berkeley and I’m only up in Bronxville at Sarah Lawrence, we’re still very much involved in each other’s lives. I’ve been listening to her gush about the shy surfer boy with the brilliant mind via text, email and on the phone for the past few months. She has yet to make a move, even though I’ve been encouraging her to do so all along. You have to be assertive when it comes to shy boys. If you choose to wait for them to take the lead, you’ll be waiting for a very, very long time.

  “Oh my god. You don’t want to know,” Nina says with a groan.

  “Oh, no. What happened?”

  She shakes her head and gives me a weak laugh. “As it turns out, Dylan is gay. Or at the very least, he’s bi. We were all at this party last weekend and he was totally making out with Lance Murray, who is definitely gay.”

  I wince.

  “Sorry, sweetie. That sucks. It could be that he’s just experimenting, though. You know how it is.”

  “True.”

  We’re in college, for goodness sake. Sexual experimentation is not only tolerated; it’s encouraged. Both Nina and I have dipped our toes into Sappho’s sea, although not in any major way. I made out with a girl at a house party in Montauk last summer and Nina got it on with a girl at some music festival she went to about a year ago. But in both cases, it was pretty tame—just kissing, really, maybe a little boob squeeze here and there but nothing under the bra.

  The point is, maybe this Dylan guy isn’t really gay or even bi. You never know if you don’t ask. Then again, it would probably be best for Nina to open her mind up to the possibility of other guys. She’s had it bad for Dylan for ages, it seems.

  “Anyway, I’m trying hard not to obsess about it,” Nina says. “I’m doing my best to stop pining over him.”

  “Glad to hear it. In any case, you should keep your options open.”

  “Wise words, O’Neil, she says with a grin. “You want another?”

  “Definitely.”

  Nina cranes her head forward to signal the bartender, but he’s preoccupied with mixing drinks, and so she turns back to me with a funny look on her face.

  “Oh my god, I think this guy who just walked in is one of the players on your dad’s team,” she says.

  I groan. “Ugh. Which one?”

  I am not thrilled about the prospect of running into one of the Vipers. Most of them have known me since I was an adolescent—some have even known me since I was a kid—and I know if they spot me here getting wasted, they’re going to go all big-brotherly on me. That’s the last thing I need. I’ve been working my ass off all semester, and if I want to party with my best friend on the night before Thanksgiving, I have every right to do so. I don’t need any of these sanctimonious jackasses getting all up in my face.

  “How should I know?” Nina says with a shrug. “They all look the same to me. A jock is a jock.”

  I turn my head discreetly towards the entrance to the bar and my gaze is immediately drawn to Eric Wenzel. I mean, how could it not focus on him? At six foot six, the guy towers over the crowd. God, he’s gorgeous. He’s got the sort of commanding presence that makes me want to fall at his feet.

  “Jeez. Drool much?” Nina says.

  With a gasp, I turn to give her an elbow in the ribs.

  “Shut up.”

  “Seriously, that guy?” she says with a laugh. “I never would have guessed. He’s so not your usual type.”

  She’s not wrong. The guys I date and/or hook up with are generally brainy guys with an adorkable edge. Quite often, they’re on the skinny side. Eric, on the other hand, is as far as you could possibly get from skinny. As the starting tight end, he’s the tallest guy on the team, and he’s mega muscular. Let me put it this way: he’s build like a fucking mountain.

  And oh my god, I find him so incredibly sexy.

  “What can I say? He brings out all my primal urges. I want him to throw me over his shoulder and carry me back to his place where he’d bang me senseless.”

  Nina squeals and gives me an enthusiastic high-five.

  “Oh my god, you have to go for it!” she says, leaning over the bar in an attempt to flag down the bartender. Unfortunately, he’s still preoccupied with other patrons, so she turns back to me and rolls her eyes. “Another round of shots is definitely in or
der, but seriously, you’ve got to close the deal with this guy. I haven’t seen such blatant lust in your eyes since we saw Liam Hemsworth at The Spotted Pig.”

  I glance over just in time to see Eric throwing his head back, laughing at something his friend said. He says something in reply, and then they head for a table in the back along with the other guy they’re with. To my relief, neither of Eric’s drinking buddies is a fellow Viper.

  “Earth to Molly...”

  I turn to Nina with a sheepish smile.

  “Sorry.”

  The bartender starts heading our direction, so we put our conversation on pause and both focus our attention on him. As soon as we’ve ordered our second round of cherry bombs, Nina turns to me with a look of determination in her eyes.

  “So...?”

  With a sigh, I say, “I can’t. I wish I could, believe me, but there is absolutely no way that Eric or any other Viper would ever consider getting with the coach’s daughter. And since I’m not in the mood for rejection, I’m just going to have to let this one go. Sucks to be me, but it is what it is.”

  “I wouldn’t be so hasty to throw in the towel,” she says. “Are you sure he’d recognize you? I mean it’s not like you’re a regular at the games or anything like that. When’s the last time you actually saw him?”

  I scroll back through my memory. There was some benefit gala a few months ago that Mom and Dad dragged me to. Some of the players attended, but come to think of it, Eric wasn’t there that night. We were both at the celebratory event following last year’s Super Bowl, but our paths didn’t cross. I was busy lying low, pissed that I was forced to put in an appearance when I would much rather have been out with my friends.

  Oh, I know. There was a charity dinner last December that we were both at. What’s more, we were seated at the same table. He had brought a date with him—some skanky ho with fake tits and a spray tan. I spent most of the time texting my friends, begging them to come save me...that is when I wasn’t trying to suppress my lustful urges for Eric and my hatred for his skanky girlfriend.

  “It’s been almost a year,” I tell Nina.

  “A year?” Her lips widen into a grin. “A year ago, your hair was still long. Am I right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I know so. And you look completely different with new ‘do, you know.”

  This is true. My hair had reached all the way down past my shoulder blades back then, but sometime around January or February, I decided I needed a fresh new look. I got the bulk of it lopped off so I could make a significant donation to Locks of Love—and because I thought a short, cropped hairstyle made me look more intellectual. It’s grown out a bit since then just to chin length.

  “Do you remember if you were wearing your glasses that night?” Nina asks.

  “Most definitely. I only started wearing my contacts on a regular basis a few months ago.”

  “Well, I’d say unless he’s got a photographic memory, there’s no way he’s going to recognize you. Especially not with the dim lighting in here.”

  I glance over at Eric again. He’s listening with rapt attention to whatever one of his friends is saying. He shakes his head and laughs and says something in response. God, he’s gorgeous. I just want to sink my lips onto that sexy jaw line of his and kiss him all over.

  Nina is right. The chances of Eric recognizing me as his coach’s daughter are slim to none. And if by some chance he does place me, I can just shrug it off and pretend like I intended nothing more than to say hello to him when I approached him.

  No harm, no foul.

  I turn back my friend with what I’m pretty sure is a mischievous smile, which she returns in kind. She knows perfectly well what I’ve decided, but I tell her anyway.

  “I’m gonna going for it.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  She holds her hand out for a high five, and I give her a slap. Right on cue, the bartender sets our cherry bombs down on the bar. This is a good thing. I’m definitely going to need some liquid courage for the upcoming task.

  “You want these on your tab?” he asks.

  “Yes, please,” I say, picking mine up.

  “Cool.”

  He hurries off to help another customer, and I wait as Nina picks her shot glass off the bar and holds it high.

  “To my best friend Molly, who, in a matter of hours is going to be having wild hot sex with that mountain of muscle over there. Long may her orgasm last.”

  I giggle and clink my glass against hers before shooting the sweet, fiery liquid down my throat. I can’t help but glance back over at Eric again. He’s got the most magnetic presence of anyone I’ve ever known, and I am positively bubbling with excitement about the idea of going home with him tonight.

  Here’s hoping I can make that happen—that I can make my fantasies come true. If I can manage to charm him into bed, I know I’ll be in for a night to remember.

  2. ERIC

  “Who’s ready for another?” I ask as I slide off the high barstool.

  “Sit your ass back down,” Ben says, shaking his head at me in disapproval. “If you think we’re letting you pay for anything tonight, you’re even stupider than you look.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Ben is right. Put your wallet away, Mr. Moneybags. The next round’s on me,” says Nathan as he gets up and lumbers over to the bar.

  These guys...

  They’re proud, the both of them. Ben is a law student, currently racking up a mountain of debt, and Nathan is a real estate agent, but has yet to make a sale of any significance. They’re both struggling, and I wish they’d just chill out and let me treat. I have more money than I know what to do with.

  But at the same time, I get where they’re coming from. I surprised the guys by sending them plane tickets to come celebrate Thanksgiving with me in New York. I’d heard from my mom that Ben and Nathan’s parents would be spending the holiday weekend alone at some romantic resort on Lake Erie and so neither of the guys would be heading back home. Since Mom had made plans with her new boyfriend, I seized the opportunity to get the trio back together again.

  I took a chance on them being able to come. Neither of the guys is currently in a relationship, so I figured it would be a safe bet. It all worked out in the end, and I couldn’t be happier to have them here. I’m as close as you could get to being their brother without actually being blood related. When I was growing up, their house was like a second home to me. Mom raised me on her own—for the most part, anyway—so I spent a whole lot of time with Nathan and Ben and their folks.

  The whole family is very dear to me.

  But enough about that. Shit. I’ve only had one beer, for fuck’s sake, and already I’m starting to wax nostalgic.

  “Dude, I’m stoked about the game tomorrow,” Ben says. “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”

  “Nah. The Bobcats have a strong showing this year, but I believe we have what it takes to keep them in check. I just need to get the ball.”

  “Yeah, you should make that happen.”

  “I hear ya, bro.”

  After draining the last of his beer, Ben turns back to me and says, “I still can’t believe you made it to the League. You were so hopeless when you first started out freshman year.”

  “Hey, fuck you,” I say with a laugh.

  “You know it’s true, Wenzel.”

  I hate to admit it, but he’s right. I shot up like a beanstalk in my early teens, hitting the height charts at six feet when I was only fourteen years old, and packing on a whole lot of muscle early on as well. Our high school football coach thought he’d hit the mother lode when I showed up for team tryouts.

  His hopes were soon dashed when I displayed all the grace and agility of a blind rhinoceros. But that didn’t prevent him from selecting me for the team and from molding and shaping me into a powerhouse of strength, speed, balance and agility who, by the time my senior year rolled around, was on the radar of all the college football scouts.
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br />   Not to sound too full of myself or anything...

  Anyway, I am incredibly grateful to Coach Henderson for everything he did for me. He was more of a father to me than my own dad ever was, and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for him.

  Ben and I start reminiscing, reliving some of the more memorable moments during our time on the Ravenhill High football team, but it’s not long before I notice the tall chick at the bar sending me a coy look.

  Damn.

  She’s hot—in a unique, standout kind of way. I’m so used to being around football groupies who tend to look the same. They generally have straight blonde hair, tan, toned physiques, and they wear low cut tank tops, designed to enhance their perky pushed-up tits, with skin-tight jeans.

  I love the way they look. I’m a guy; of course I think they’re hot. But I can certainly appreciate a whole other sort of hotness, a subtle sort of hotness like the one this chick displays.

  Her wavy dark hair is cut into a sweet little bob, making her look like a flapper girl from the 1920s or something. Come to think of it, her big eyes and pouty mouth combine to give her the look of a silent film star. She is stunning.

  It’s dark, so of course I can’t see her complexion, especially from here, but she looks kind of pale. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a tan like my football groupies do. She’s got on a crewneck sweater and a knee length skirt with high-heeled boots that hit just below her knees, and she has a heavy, knitted wool scarf looped around her neck.

  If she had on a pair of glasses, she’d have that sexy librarian look down pat. I flash her my flirtiest smile, which she returns with a demure one.

  “Here you go, Eric,” says Nathan, setting a pint of ale in front of me.

  “Thanks, man.”

  As soon as Nathan reclaims his stool, Ben holds up his own pint glass and says, “A toast to old friends.”

  “Especially old friends who’ve got shitloads of money to purchase plane tickets and reunite the Dakota Lane Dudes.”

  “You are still the biggest fucking nerd,” Nathan says, giving his brother a playful punch on the shoulder.

  “Cheers, guys.” I laugh.

  We all clink our glasses before taking a sip.