Married to the Tight End: A Never Say Never Football Romance, #2

By Carina Rose

Have you ever felt as though you were having an out-of-body experience? An ethereal feeling that you were floating in the atmosphere looking down on a situation? If not, let me tell you, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

 

Imagine you were at your best friend's engagement party in Vegas. You were super excited because you were the maid of honor and the best man was the hottest football player you'd ever seen. Even this guy's position as tight end was appropriate for his, well . . . tight end.

 

Anyway, there was something about his cocky attitude that not only ruffled your feathers but turned you on at the same time. Maybe it was the way he challenged you or because women seemed to flock to the gorgeous man. But according to him, he only had eyes for you. It didn't matter if he was kidding or not, because you weren't in the market for a serious relationship.

 

Then, for some reason, you engaged in a drinking game. Because why not, right? You were in Vegas after all. Well, let me tell you why not, because the next morning you noticed a silver band on your left ring finger. And adding salt to that tequila-induced wound, there was one on his too.

 

Yes, you read that right. Me, Alexa Barton, preferably always the bridesmaid and never the bride, married the uber-sexy, and let's not forget cocky, football player, Jackson Cartwright.

 

I was a cliché. A married cliché. Whose "husband" wasn't in a hurry to get an annulment and vowed to prove that we were meant to be together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carina Rose
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201943752

Book preview

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

Preview - Love in the End Zone

Other Books by Carina Rose

About the Author

Contact Carina Rose

A note from the Author…

Acknowledgments

Have you ever felt as though you were having an out-of-body experience? An ethereal feeling that you were floating in the atmosphere looking down on a situation? If not, let me tell you, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Imagine you were at your best friend’s engagement party in Vegas. You were super excited because you were the maid of honor and the best man was the hottest football player you’d ever seen. Even this guy’s position as tight end was appropriate for his, well… tight end.

Anyway, there was something about his cocky attitude that ruffled your feathers and turned you on at the same time. Maybe it was the way he challenged you or because women seemed to flock to the gorgeous man. But according to him, he only had eyes for you. It didn’t matter if he was kidding or not, because you weren’t in the market for a serious relationship.

Then, for some reason, you engaged in a drinking game. Because why not, right? You were in Vegas after all. Well, let me tell you why not, because the next morning you noticed a silver band on your left ring finger. And adding salt to that tequila-induced wound, there was one on his too.

Yes, you read that right. Me, Alexa Barton, preferably always the bridesmaid and never the bride, married the uber-sexy, and let’s not forget cocky, football player, Jackson Cartwright.

I was a cliché. A married cliché. Whose husband wasn’t in a hurry to get an annulment and vowed to prove that we were meant to be together.

Chapter 1

Alexa

L-O-V-E. I silently repeated for the hundredth-plus time as I piped that four-letter word onto the last of the heart-shaped cookies. You’d think that my brain wouldn’t have had to recite those letters after all the times I’d had to write them this morning. Except by the fiftieth time, I almost substituted it for a different four-letter word: W-I-N-E. Granted, there could have been a slew of other choices, but that would be the only one we’d be able to display.

Since four a.m., I’d been at Sugarcoat This!, the bakery my mother and I co-owned, decorating cookies for a large wedding order. Parties were a big part of our revenue. Once people figured out that most guests preferred cookies just as much if not more than cake, our little business could succeed on those orders alone. Of course my mom and I loved our shop and customers, so we’d never consider that.

What blew my mind was the amount of money people spent on lavish affairs… especially weddings. I could understand birthdays, bar and bat mitzvahs, graduations, or any other party that guaranteed to mean something years down the road… but a wedding? Not a chance. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe a marriage could last, although come to think of it, just last week I piped a blue jay flying out of a prison cell to commemorate a divorce being finalized. Sad really, but not at all surprising.

The thought of celebrating a romantic split seemed odd to me. When my parents divorced, neither of them celebrated. Maybe they did silently, but all I saw was anguish written on the lines of their faces. Over the years those lines faded, but I could tell it still bothered my mom at times. Maybe not because she no longer had my dad by her side, but because he wasn’t by mine.

I set the triangular bag of icing down and flexed my fingers a few times, hoping to regain a bit of circulation. Glancing up at the clock, I couldn’t believe three hours had already passed. On cue, the front door chimed before my mom stepped into the kitchen.

Hi, sweetheart. She glanced at the table laden with sugar-coated hearts. Wow, those are stunning. The piping looks like lace. Pulling me into an embrace, she kissed the top of my head. My baby is so talented.

Her kind words made the ache in my hand dissipate a bit. Thank you. These are the last of the cookies for the Anderson wedding tomorrow. I’ll deliver them in the morning.

Perfect. She slid on her pink apron. Speaking of, it’s a beautiful sunny morning, you should go get some fresh air. The bell on the door sounded again. Here we go, let’s start our day.

So much for fresh air.

I walked out into the shop and greeted a few of our regulars. Most stopped in to grab their favorite caffeinated beverage and sweet treat before heading to the office. When I looked up, I spotted by my best friend, Reese Parker. I absolutely adored her. She recently got engaged and had been spending a lot of time with her gorgeous fiancé and ex-football star, Trent Archer. I couldn’t blame her really, the man exuded all types of sexiness. Granted, their courtship wouldn’t make the interior of a greeting card, but it goes to prove how crazy love can be.

Shortly afterward, she decided to work for her granddad, who owned the Virginia Thunder football team. In my opinion, she always should have worked there. The girl knew more stats than Guinness in regards to the sport. Much like Trent, football was in her blood and despite missing her at work, I couldn’t have been happier for her.

Reese’s large diamond caught the morning sun just right causing tiny prisms to come alive. I exaggeratingly shielded my eyes to which she rolled hers. I should go grab my sunglasses.

You’re ridiculous. Laughing, I stepped out from behind the counter, and she threw her arms around me. But I love you anyway.

Yes, I know.

Do you have a minute? Her serious tone took me by surprise.

Gesturing to a small round table, we walked over and sat down. She shimmied her cute butt on the wooden chair. "I have something to tell you, well, ask you… and tell you."

My scrutinizing gaze studied her for a moment. Okay. What’s going on. Should I be nervous because you sound nervous? And why are you here so early?

She waved her hand back and forth. We stopped here on the way to the office. And nothing’s wrong. I’m just so excited.

A smile ticked my lips because she’d been walking on cloud nine since Trent popped the question six months ago. Wait, we?

Trent’s in the car. Anyway, you know the season is over. Nodding, I gave her a tight smile because despite being best friends with the team owner’s granddaughter, other than enjoying watching alpha males running around in tight pants, I knew nothing about football. We finally set a date! She squealed and clapped her hands, catching the attention of some customers. I half expected her to pull out pom-poms. We’re getting married the second weekend in July, and—

"This July? Like in four months?" I may not know much about weddings, but I knew that a lot of planning went into them. I had cookie orders for weddings two years from now.

She nodded and reached across the table to cover my hand with hers. Will you be my maid of honor? All I could do was blink. What’s wrong? I’ll let you pick the dress color and style.

Appeasing her panic, I smiled. Nothing is wrong, I already assumed I was your maid of honor, and I’d wear nothing if you wanted me to.

Well, Jackson would probably love that, she snickered.

The mere mention of Trent’s best friend and the super-hot football player caused a rush of heat to roll down my spine. Jackson was around six foot two, had unruly dark hair that worked on him, eyes that looked like creamy milk-chocolate fondue, and was drop-dead gorgeous. Reese told me his position on the rival’s team was tight end. I had no idea what that meant, but according to the way his football pants molded around his backside, I would say the title was appropriate.

When Trent pursued Reese while she worked at Sugarcoat This! and would come into the bakery, more often than not, Jackson would be with him. Over our mutual best friends’ courtship, we had sort of become friends ourselves. Well, maybe not friends. We didn’t hang out or anything, but our flirting became the norm when we were together. It was fun. He was fun. And that was all I wanted out of a relationship. Unlike my beaming best friend, wearing a gown and reciting vows had never been anything my dreams were made of.

It wasn’t as though we had ever messed around because our relationship wasn’t like that. In truth, we had more fun goading our friends than anything else. So her comment caught me a bit off guard.

Why would you say that about Jackson?

He’s Trent’s best man and if you were naked rather than in a gown, I don’t think he’d mind.

Warmth filled my cheeks at the thought of that. Had he told her something? Was my best friend holding out on me? After meeting him, I decided to check out his social media. Most were pictures of him and his teammates. Same with Trent. Then when I broadened my search, several photos of Jackson appeared online. And when not on the field or hanging out with his buddies, he had been in the company of beautiful women. Not that I’d been surprised because his looks could earn him a spot in the center of a magazine.

Something deep down told me my bestie would love for me and Jackson to get together, but she also knew getting serious with a man was so far out of my wheelhouse. I hadn’t been scarred by a previous relationship or crushed by a man—I just liked my independence. Much like my mom. I often wondered if she ever would have had the courage to open a bakery while being a wife. It wasn’t until after the divorce that I’d first heard about her dream.

Thinking about what Reese had just said and realizing I zoned out and didn’t answer could set her now romantic brain in motion. Squashing any illusion she might have had, I rolled my eyes. Funny. I’ll wear a dress. What about your sister?

She let out a sigh. I planned on having both of you, her as my matron and you as my maid of honor, but Kenzie will almost be nine months pregnant in July, and prefers to help behind the scenes. But she told me she was going to have a fabulous gown. She did set up an appointment at an exclusive boutique for me. It’s not like I have tons of time to order something.

Right. There also was no way that Trent wouldn’t move heaven and earth to make Reese happy. I’m sure Kenzie will look beautiful, and I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to be in the spotlight. Are you okay with it? Kenzie and her husband Dave both worked for the Thunder. She and Reese were closer than close. Since they were brought up by their grandparents, they had always had each other’s backs.

Of course, I have you… my other sister.

To say I loved Reese like family would be accurate. I didn’t have siblings, so hearing her say that, albeit not for the first time, still made me happy. Well, I can’t wait. Now, let’s talk about the bachelorette party. Reese’s face tensed and disappointment slammed into me. Please don’t tell me you aren’t having one.

No, no. It’s not that… not entirely. The league is hosting a flag football game for charity.

It was then I realized I hadn’t had any coffee because I had no idea what one had to do with the other. I also had no idea what a flag football game was, but that didn’t matter to me. Okaay… I drawled.

Reese laughed. Clearly, she’s had her caffeine or was high on her love life. It’s in Vegas and rather than bachelor or bachelorette parties, we decided to have our engagement party while we’re there. Plus, Trent being Trent and us once being a meme, it’s better not to have anything that could end up in the tabloids.

My body sagged in the chair. Oh. I could understand that, but we were going to be in Vegas. Seemed like a waste, but she’s the bride. Maybe I could convince her when we were there or do something small later. Her smile flipped and made me feel like the worst maid of honor in the history of maids of honor. I’m sorry. It’s the exhaustion talking. I was here before the birds even woke up. It’ll be great. When do we leave?

Taking my hand in hers again, she gave it a squeeze. Soon. In two weeks. I know, not a lot of time to plan, but with the draft and the season starting… I held up my hand because she knew she lost me at draft. Giggling, she nodded before turning a bit serious. Thank you so much. I hope you know I couldn’t do this without you.

I gave her my best smile, despite ideas popping up in my head, and squeezed her hand. You could, but I wouldn’t let you.

We both stood and hugged each other right before I glanced up. The customers’ murmurs hushed as two Adonis-like men who could walk a runway as easily as step onto a football field walked in.

Trent looked dreamy in his dark jeans and black leather jacket. Then there was Jackson with his sexily styled hair. His jeans, although loose, showcased his long legs, and I was sure if he were to turn around, they’d look good on his backside too. Granted, not as good as football pants, but still sexy. His brown eyes skimmed the case. He said something to my mom, who worked the counter, and she busied herself getting whatever he had asked for.

They’re here, aren’t they? she asked.

Funny, she never told me Jackson was here too.

Yes. We broke apart, and they strolled up to us, smiling at a few ladies on the way. Good thing they’d been sitting because one started to fan herself with her napkin. No doubt the men loved every minute of that.

Hey, babe, Trent said, planting a kiss on Reese’s lips before looking at me. Hi, Alexa. He kissed my cheek. Are we all set? Does my gorgeous fiancée have a maid of honor?

Of course she does, I answered with a roll of my eyes. That was when Jackson looked at me. There was something in his eyes that made me want to squirm in my seat. Good morning, Jackson.

Good morning, Alexa. He bowed as though I were royalty. The man was a constant ball-buster. He glanced at Reese. Bird, you’re looking lovely this morning.

I stifled a laugh at his nickname for my bestie. Technically, it had been her fault since she flipped Trent off and millions of people saw it, thanks to the media sensationalizing that moment. Rival team’s owner’s granddaughter gives football’s golden boy the finger. Talk about the perfect tagline and sound bite. Then again if she hadn’t, we all wouldn’t be talking right now.

Are you ever going to stop calling me that?

Nope. Jackson smirked and pointed to me. Scary thought that we’re in charge of these two on the most important day of their life, isn’t it?

Nodding, I agreed. I’d say. What were they thinking? Jackson’s and my laugh went completely ignored by the lovebirds.

Sweetheart, we need to get going. There are a few plays I want to go over with Jackson. Reese had told me that Jackson now played for the Thunder. Naturally, she went into a few specifics about trades, draft picks, free agents, but to me it all sounded foreign. Per usual, I’d just nod and smile when it came to football information.

Right. Reese smiled. I’ll call you later to go over more details, she said to me. I waved at the trio and right before they stepped through the door, Jackson had a cup of coffee and white cookie bag in his hand. Then he looked over his shoulder and winked after his lips quirked into a cocky smirk. My first instinct was to roll my eyes again, but that would give him too much satisfaction in our cat-and-mouse game. So instead, I gave him my best smile and raised my hand in a flirty wave. Jackson’s chuckle followed him out the door.

Letting out a sigh, I must have been staring into space because I never noticed my mother sidle up to me. Honey, maybe you should take a break. I can handle things and Missy will be in at eleven.

Debating her statement hadn’t been a thought in my mind. Sounds good. I’ll check in with you this afternoon. I do need to box the cookies and get them ready for tomorrow’s delivery.

She shooed me away with the towel in her hand. Missy and I can start. Whatever we don’t finish, you can in the morning. Missy was a college student who worked at our store for two years between her classes and on breaks. She’d worked with us for almost two years.

Not wasting another minute, I took her advice, but rather than go home, which was just upstairs, I grabbed my jacket, a to-go cup of coffee, and headed to the park where I relaxed with an audiobook I’d been dying to listen to.

The morning breeze cooled my skin as I made my way down the street. As always they were filled with vehicles as people headed to work or school. It didn’t matter that the shop was in a quiet part of town; if the highways were filled, commuters cut through the back roads.

Seeing the park up ahead, I stopped at the corner, took a sip of my coffee, and headed toward my favorite wooden bench near a large, and now bare, maple tree. Settling in, I clicked play, and the male narrator’s sexy voice flowed through my headphones. I closed my eyes and suddenly, Jackson’s face appeared as the hunky book hero. Despite the imagery