Romanced by the rival, p.1
Romanced by the Rival, page 1
ROMANCED BY THE RIVAL
© 2023 Carina Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except with brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Editor: James Gallagher, Castle Walls Editing
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative
Formatter: Tami Norman, Integrity Formatting
Cover images: Deposit Photos
A Note from the Author
The football teams in this series are fictional. They are not part of the NFL and do not follow that league’s rules and timelines.
Table of Contents
A Note from the Author
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Preview - Love in the End Zone
Other Books by Carina Rose
About the Author
Contact Carina Rose
A note from the Author…
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Cami
I headed off the elevator and was greeted by fingers tapping on keyboards, the soft whir of the HVAC unit, and the typical chatter within the gray cubicle walls of Chara Skincare’s corporate offices. Today will be a good day, I’d told myself when I opened my eyes this morning. Positive thinking and all that jazz. Plus it was Friday, and who didn’t like the end of the workweek? My favorite latte—a free birthday bonus—warmed my hand as I headed toward my desk, giving a quick wave to a couple of coworkers.
Holly stepped out of her doorway right before I headed into mine. “Good morning. Happy birthday, Cami,” she said.
“Thanks, Holly. I can’t believe you remembered.”
Thanks to my brother, Lucas, and our group of friends, including my roommate, Sally, being in Vegas, I had a feeling I’d be in my own version of an eighties classic movie starring Molly Ringwald—except I wasn’t sixteen but twenty-five. Lucas and his girlfriend, Harley, had offered to stay back, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I told myself it was fine. I had plans tonight. Another blind date. I could only hope he’d be as amazing as Molly’s Jake Ryan.
“Of course I remembered.” After Holly’s face paled, she hastily excused herself to the copy room.
Shaking off her odd reaction, I let out a sigh, stepped into my office, and noticed the large bouquet of my favorite spring flowers with a “Happy Birthday” balloon attached. Ahh… that was why Holly remembered. Regardless, my small space smelled of lilacs and tulips. Lucas had been sending me flowers for my birthday ever since he started getting a paycheck. He was the best brother a girl could ask for.
I propped the card against the clear vase and fired up my computer, prompting a burst of email alerts. High-pitched pinging sounded in rapid succession.
Glancing at the emails, I cringed at the slew of birthday greetings from various dating sites. It wasn’t because I’d subscribed to them; I hadn’t. It was for work. A couple of months ago, around Valentine’s Day, I’d been tasked to look at their influencers to see how we could affiliate our brand with the popular social media posters. To do that, I’d had to build a profile using my work email account. Of course, everyone else had declined because they were in relationships and didn’t want to explain anything to their significant others. Or they were just smarter and made up stories. Either way, I was the lucky participant.
Thankfully, that project had ended, and I’d since unsubscribed to several of the automatic emails and deleted the profile picture of the poodle we had when I was five years old—sorry Gi-Gi.
An email sat at the top of the screen with the subject line “Why be single, come out and mingle!”
Cliché much? Who did their marketing? And what was wrong with being single?
Nothing.
Dating was exhausting, especially when you wanted no part of it. Like tonight, I should have never said yes to blind date number two this month—and on my birthday no less. For some unfathomable reason people, from my coworkers to my neighbor’s best friend to the waitress at the diner, wanted to fix me up or told me they had the perfect man for me.
It was as though I’d become a challenge or game to see who’d set me up with the best guy. That wasn’t true, of course. It just felt that way. The thing was, I didn’t want to be in a relationship.
Been there. Done that. He cheated. Goodbye.
That summed up my last serious boyfriend. No one needed to tell me that I had constructed a fortress around my heart, because I was the one who’d laid the bricks. Maybe someone should blame my ex-fiancé for handing me the supplies in the first place.
Still, I did try to keep an open mind. Tonight would be the clincher. If this date turned into another dud, I was done. I should get that tattooed somewhere. DATE + DUD = DONE. Triple D.
What was bad about being single? Nothing. To be honest, I had become fond of it. If I wanted to watch a sappy movie rather than an action-packed sci-fi flick, I could. If I wanted to do nothing on the weekends, there was no one wanting to do something else. Conversely, if I wanted to go out and dance the night away, I didn’t need to feel badly that my boyfriend had two left feet and was rhythmically challenged.
We’ve all been there. Trying to make someone happy without considering our own happiness. My roommate, Sally, had the right idea. She did her own thing and went out with whoever she wanted, even if that meant going out solo. She had confidence in spades. I did, too, for the most part. My luck had just fizzled out, taking some of my trust in people with it.
And why did it suddenly appear that everyone had been coupled off? I’m not even talking about my brother, Lucas, who was engaged, but I swear that no matter where I turned, there were people holding hands or canoodling. Yes, I said it, canoodling. It was akin to when you went to a car dealership and spotted a car that you’d never seen before. You loved it because it was different, and then when you were on your way home, that same make and model was at every intersection or store parking lot. Had it always been there and gone unnoticed? It was a mystery yet to be solved.
Lately, that was how it had been with couples. I noticed them everywhere: at the store, park, strolling down the street, and at my favorite coffee shop to name a few. It wasn’t that I disliked seeing them. Heck, more power to them. If being paired up with someone made them happy, then good for them. Hopefully neither would get their heart broken.
As far as I was concerned, romance was dead.
###
Eight hours later I was sitting at my desk, wondering how I could politely get out of my blind date, when my phone rang. For a minute I thought maybe fate had heard me and it would be Bryan, canceling, but when I saw Sally’s name, albeit a tad disappointed that I still had to go out tonight, I couldn’t help but smile.
I tapped the speaker button. “Hi, Sal.”
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…!” She began singing the traditional song but ended it with a nontraditional verse all her own: “I hope you get laid too.”
“Sally, you’re so lucky my door is closed and people have gone home. I have you on speakerphone. And for the record, there’s not a chance that’s happening tonight.”
She giggled, and I knew she wouldn’t have cared if I were sitting in the first pew in Saint Michael’s church. “Why are you still there? Don’t you have a date tonight? I figured I’d catch you on your way out.”
“I’m hoping the floor will open up, and I’ll fall into an abyss. Maybe I should cancel.”
“Which guy is this again?”
“Bryan. He’s Amy from purchasing’s friend’s cousin’s son or something. I don’t know. From what I understand, he’s handsome, has a steady job as an accountant, and plays tennis. Which is better than football, because we all know where that will go.”
“Yes, nowhere thanks to our date-blocking too-macho-for-their-own-good brothers. Such a shame, too, because the gene gods blessed some of their teammates. Speaking of which, you should see the guys in this hotel. I mean, stud-fest galore. A group of guys from a university in Rome is here on holiday, as they put it, and… wowza!”
I loved Sally. Lucas and her brother, Collin, were best friends and teammates on the Virginia Thunder football team, which was how Sally and I had met. Collin had proposed to Sally’s best friend, Charlie—another relationship that no one saw coming.
She continued, “Thankfully, the happy foursome went on an excursion that I had zero desire to go on. Listen, abo
“Yes, Nunzio’s. But that was my idea, not his. I think I might cancel,” I said again, in hopes she’d agree this time.
“Don’t you dare. I have a great feeling about tonight. And I’ll be home tomorrow, and you can tell me all about it. If he’s a washout, and I’m not saying he will be, we’ll go out and celebrate your birthday. Hell, we’ll do that anyway. I’ll set something up with everyone for when we get home.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Promise me you’ll at least give your date tonight a shot.”
“Fine, I’ll keep my mind open.”
“Not your legs?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
She laughed again. “Ooh, I need to go, Gian Paolo and Fabrizio are at the pool. They’re identical twins. Wow, I love Italians. Talk to you later. Love you, Cam. Have a great night. Blow out all the candles. Ciao!”
“Bye, Sal.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, then glanced down at the floor, sad that it didn’t open up and drop me into an abyss.
Maybe she had a point. After all, it was my birthday. A milestone of sorts. One-quarter of a century. Taking a page out of her book, I hyped myself up. “What was the worst that could happen?”
Chapter 2
Dax
The last thing I expected to be doing tonight was slinging drinks at my buddy TJ’s pub, but there I stood, uncorking yet another bottle of chardonnay. When he had called to tell me his wife Jenna’s water broke, the panic in his voice would have had me agreeing to almost anything—except being in the delivery room.
I glanced around, knowing that despite being a professional football player for the DC Rockets, tonight would put my stamina to the test. Breaking up plays or running back an interception for a touchdown was my specialty. Sprinting a hundred yards in five seconds… piece of cake. Blending a fruity drink with a froufrou name? Not so much.
Thankfully Melissa, who has worked here since TJ opened the place, handled all the blended drinks I had no clue how to make. Including the matcha colada that a woman just ordered. Can’t say that green cocktail looked appealing, but to each their own.
“You’re doing great, handsome,” Melissa said with a wink. Her eyes scanned my body, not in a seductive way, as a few customers had done, but more to assess the situation. “Perfect physique aside, with your dark hair, scruff that looks as though you haven’t shaved in two days, and pretty eyes…” She fanned her face with her hand. “The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Damn. Can’t wait to see the tips at the end of the night. Matcha lady already has a twenty on the bar, and I highly doubt that was for my mixology skills.”
I laughed and spun my baseball hat on my head, leaving the Rockets logo behind me. “Thank you for that. I suppose we’ll see what happens. Don’t sell yourself short, though. I couldn’t do what you do. Plus, I’m sure some of the guys don’t just come here for the beer.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Shh, don’t tell anyone. Reputation and all,” I said with a wink.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Customers came and went, and two or so hours later, the crowd had thinned enough that both Melissa and I didn’t need to be behind the bar. While she went into the back office to begin the closing process, I started wiping down the shiny wood surface, readying it for tomorrow in hopes we’d be able to close soon. Regardless of my athleticism, my feet were killing me.
Doug, a regular who practically had his name etched on a stool, had been nursing a club soda with lime all night and tossed a five down, then slid off his stool. “See ya, kid.”
“Later, Gramps,” I said through a chuckle that earned me a middle-finger salute.
“I’ll give you gramps. I could still knock you on your ass.”
“I have no doubt.” Slinging a towel over my shoulder, I laughed once more. “Drive safely, yeah?”
That time he brought his hand to his forehead and gave me a true salute. “Will do. Tell TJ congratulations for me.”
Aside from the murmur of the ice maker, silence finally graced the room. Then with a flurry, the door swung open, and a woman rushed in, plopped herself down on the stool toward the end of the bar, and huffed. She took her jacket off and shivered.
Wow was she pretty. No, not pretty. Stunning. She had that girl-next-door look. A classic beauty, if you will. Not too much makeup, wavy blonde hair that hung over her shoulders, and sea-blue eyes that had a sadness to them.
Placing a cocktail napkin in front of her, I gave her a smile that some might say worked better than any pickup line. Except this woman didn’t look the least bit affected. Too bad, because she was just my type… minus the sad eyes. I didn’t do well when women cried.
“Hi, welcome to TJ’s. What can I get you? How about coffee? It looks as though you can use a warm-up.”
Ignoring my not-so-subtle suggestion, she said, “Tequila with lime, please. No salt needed.”
I gave her a nod, turned to grab the top-shelf brand, placed a short highball glass in front of her, and poured her drink. I reached down and plucked a wedge of lime out of the garnish container, then put the lime on a small napkin.
“There you go. Anything else I can get you?”
She tapped the shot on the bar, brought it to her lips, tipped it back, and drained the pale liquor. Her face scrunched up before she sucked on the tart fruit.
“Yes, another, please,” she replied, sliding the empty tumbler in my direction.
Once it was poured, I placed my hands on the bar. “Is everything okay?”
As soon as I said that, her pretty blue eyes narrowed, and suddenly I wished I had a rewind button.
“Okay? Hmm… let’s see… where do I start?” She tapped her perfectly polished pink nail on the rim of her glass before draining its contents. “You’re a bartender, right? I mean, you look more like a model, but I suppose that affords you great tips.”
I grinned at her assessment of me. Not wanting to tell her the truth, I kept my mouth shut. Despite her mood, I’d rather she know me for me and not my occupation.
“Exactly. Okay, so you’re pretty much a therapist.”
Was I? Over the years, TJ had told me he’d heard his share of stories, and like him, I wasn’t the least bit qualified to give advice. Except I had a feeling this woman didn’t care, because she didn’t wait for me to answer before blurting, “Tell me, why are men jackasses?”
“Bad night?”
“No, bad love life,” she scoffed. “How depressing is that? I’m twenty-five. Today in fact.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Is it? It started happily, I guess. Then I went on a date… with a jackass. I knew I should have canceled,” she added, glancing at her empty glass. “Not that I should be surprised by that. Most guys are.”
Typically, after such a broad generalization, a no offense would be extended, but that didn’t happen. “Sorry,” I replied, not knowing much else to say and thus confirming I had no business wearing a therapist’s hat. Rather than pour another shot, I filled a glass with water and placed it in front of her. She rolled her eyes but sipped it anyway. “We’re not all jerks,” I offered, if only to defend myself.
“Well, it must be me then. Want to know what my ex did?”
Did I? Leaning forward, I placed my forearms on the gleaming mahogany. Apparently I did, because I ended up asking, “What?”
“He cheated on me. But it gets worse.” She sucked in air, then let loose as though she’d explode like an overinflated balloon if she didn’t let out her aggression. And lucky me, I was the pin to her balloon. Pop! “When he started dating me, he was still dating someone else. I had no idea, of course. Want to know how I found out?”
Feeling that was a rhetorical question, I waited for her to continue, which she hastily did. “A year later, we moved here from North Carolina. I was so excited because I’d be closer to my brother. Anyway, the woman my brother fell in love with, her name is Harley, she owns a hat business… Brimming with Style. Cute, right?”
I nodded, stunned that she still hadn’t taken a breath, thinking her story sounded like a soap opera my nana used to watch. “Turns out Harley was the same woman that Trevor, that’s my loser ex’s name, cheated on me with when we first started dating. He was a double-dipper, and not in the tasty ice-cream-variety way, if you know what I mean.”
