Page 44 of Playing It Forward

Nolan

I scan the beach until I find her. Terri’s studying the area where she’s setting up an afternoon beach wedding.

It’s amazing how she creates these unique events for her clients. How she always remains professional. Personally, if a bride told me she wanted to change the signature cocktail hours before the wedding, I’d tell her to shove a nose guard up her ass.

But not Terri. She gets it done. She’s amazing. And she thinks I only want her because of the baby. She has no idea how beautiful she is. How her laughter fills me with warmth.

I don’t want to interfere with her event. She doesn’t want people to know she’s pregnant and I respect her decision. But I need to get closer.

I stand from my lounger and pick up a football. Because I always have a football with me. I can’t wait to buy baby footballs. I shake those thoughts away.

“Who wants to throw around the ball?”

Tanner immediately bounces to his feet. “I’m in.”

“I thought we were relaxing,” Brock grumbles, but he’s not looking at me. I follow his gaze and – sure enough – he’s watching Jace learn how to surf. Except he’s not watching his son. He’s watching May, his son’s instructor.

Tanner kicks sand his way. “You can relax when you’re dead.”

Brock glares at him. “Kick sand at me one more time.”

“Or what?” Tanner clasps his chest. “You’re going to stare more at May?”

Brock growls as he gets to his feet. “Leave May out of this or I’ll tell everyone the truth about your situation with Alaia.”

Corbin sighs. “We already know the truth.”

“Gage,” Tanner whines. “Why aren’t you helping?”

“He’s too busy messaging with Addy to pay us any attention,” Brock says. “Gage!”

Gage’s head snaps up. “What? What’s happening?”

“You tell us. How’s Addy?” Tanner wiggles his eyebrows.

“I thought we were going to throw the ball around. It’s like herding cats around here,” I mutter.

They stand and spread out. I spin the football in my hands before firing an easy spiral toward Corbin. He’s tall and heavy and makes a nice, reliable target. Especially for a quarterback nursing a shoulder injury he doesn’t want anyone to know about.

I throw a few short passes to Tanner and Gage to loosen up my shoulder and rotate my arm. I have to adjust my grip constantly since the sand makes the ball slippery.

“Run a route,” I order Tanner and Gage once my shoulder is warm.

“My legs are sinking,” Gage complains.

Tanner snorts. “Blame the sand all you want. We both know I’m faster.”

Gage elbows him before sprinting away. “Who’s faster now?”

“You’re cheating!”

“You’re a whiner!”

I throw the ball deep. Tanner snags it one-handed. He points at imaginary cameras and bows as if he just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.

“Knock it off, goofball. And throw me the ball back.”

He throws it back before drawing a line in the sand. “Here’s the touchdown line.”