Out of Bounds (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Text copyright ©2015 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Game For Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  When the stakes are this high, sometimes you have to throw out the rulebook…

  When San Francisco Outlaws tight end Malcolm Hughes comes home for his twin brother’s funeral, he doesn’t expect to pick up a runaway bride on the side of the road.

  Sabrina Miller thought she was gaining a husband, but the ceremony went south when she discovered her fiancé was already married. Now, with a storm bearing down and nowhere to go, she reluctantly accepts a ride from a brooding stranger.

  Forced to wait out the storm, Mal and Sabrina are drawn together by forces neither of them can explain. When Mal offers to let Sabrina spend what would have been her honeymoon in his beach house, he isn’t thinking of seduction.

  But the chemistry between them is combustible—and impossible to deny. It’s only for a few days and they’re positive they can handle it. So when reality returns and they have to walk away, why does it feel wrong to let each other go?

  In the game of love, some of the best plays are out of bounds…

  CHAPTER ONE

  MALCOLM HUGHES HAD SEEN A LOT of crazy things before, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the sight of a bride trudging along the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He’d just driven around a bend, lost in thoughts of the funeral he’d barely made it through, when he spotted the slight figure in white tugging a small, wheeled suitcase.

  Common sense said to keep on driving. Except the sky was darkening ominously and the wind had whipped up, blowing sand and leaves in little cyclones across the pavement. Soon the clouds would open and soak her to the bone.

  And then there was the lightning, which was always pretty intense in a Florida thunderstorm. She could be killed if he didn’t stop and offer her a way out of the weather.

  She didn’t turn at the sound of his approach, quite possibly because she couldn’t hear it over the howling of the wind.

  One hand clenched the fabric of her skirts as the breeze lashed them about her legs. Mal swore as he slowed the big Tahoe. His heart and soul ached right now, and he wanted to be alone—but he couldn’t leave her. It wasn’t the way he’d been raised.

  She turned at the crunch of wheels on gravel as he pulled to the side of the road. Her cheeks were streaked with black eyeliner, making her look like a cross between a zombie and a drunkard. Her hair stirred about her face, the blond strands messy, though he suspected they’d been piled elaborately on her head when she’d started this journey. Her dress was strapless, emphasizing the generous proportions of her breasts and her small waist.

  She was small and too vulnerable out here alone. Oddly enough, considering the streakiness of her makeup—which he assumed was caused from crying—she appeared angry rather than sad.

  Mal pressed the button to let the window down. “You need help, miss?”

  The bride sucked in a breath before answering him in a voice that sounded far too young for the ample figure that proclaimed her a woman. “Only if you know a good hit man I can hire cheap.”

  He would have laughed, but her lip trembled and Mal’s protective instincts flared. His inner voice cautioned him that he knew nothing about this woman. Since joining the NFL, he’d encountered plenty of scheming women—and a few men—who wanted a piece of him.

  Not that he thought for a second this was a setup. How could it be? He hadn’t known himself that he’d be driving this stretch of road after escaping his twin brother’s funeral an hour ago. Though it was on the way to his house, it wasn’t the most direct route.

  Besides, Bridle Beach was a tourist town, known for its white sand beaches and perfect coral-and-peach sunsets. Lots of couples came here to get married on the beach.

  Apparently, some of them didn’t work out.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

  “You can’t stay out here. There’s a storm coming.”

  She approached the Tahoe and put one hand on the windowsill. Her hair blew into her face and she pushed it back, tucking it behind an ear. “I… I don’t have anywhere to go. My—Brian rented a cottage for us, and I’m not going back.”

  “I can take you to a hotel in town.”

  She seemed to hesitate before shaking her head. “I can’t. I want to go somewhere where I won’t run into him.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and his heart clenched.

  “Are you sure you can’t patch it up with him?” Mal asked softly. He’d never been married, but he had teammates and friends who were. Sometimes things got said in anger that seemed unforgivable at the time. Then people cooled off and calmer heads prevailed.

  She stiffened. “No, I can’t patch it up with him. We flew down here to get married—and his wife crashed the ceremony right before I said I do.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her chin quivered. “Exactly.”

  Mal punched the button to unlock the door. Maybe he shouldn’t get caught up in this, but there was no way he could leave her with a storm coming. “Get in.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  SABRINA TURNED HER FACE UP to the sky, and a fat raindrop plopped onto her nose. It really was about to storm. She’d been so mad she hadn’t noticed the sky growing dark. It was almost completely black now.

  She looked at the man behind the wheel again. He was large. Not just tall, though she was pretty sure he was tall even though he was sitting, but broad. Big hands held the steering wheel, and his green eyes were intense as he watched her.

  He wore a black suit, which ought to be a comfort since he looked as if he’d recently come from a business meeting, but there was something savage about him, something barely contained in the polish of his manner.

  It didn’t matter that he was handsome, that he was somehow familiar in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend. She felt like she could trust him, and yet that thought only made fresh panic churn in her belly.

  She didn’t have the best record lately when it came to trusting men.

  For the first time since she’d stormed away from the mockery of her wedding ceremony, she felt a touch of fear instead of anger or despair. She’d been so stunned at the turn of events that she hadn’t quite known what she was doing. When Brian’s wife—Missy, her name was—came screaming up the beach with a little girl in tow, Sabrina hadn’t believed it.

  She’d turned to Brian, certain he’d look as shocked as she felt at the woman’s intrusion into their ceremony. One glance at his face told her all she needed to know. He’d shrugged when she’d demanded the truth—and that’s when instinct took over. She’d slapped him across the face, then turned and trudged up the beach, only stopping to grab her carry-on suitcase from the car he’d rented.

  She would have taken the damn car, but he had the keys. So she’d walked instead, rolling the suitcase down the road and sobbing. She’d stopped sobbing two miles ago and started fuming—and cursing herself for being too damned trusting. She’d wanted a family for so long, wanted to feel that sense of belonging to someone, that she’d ignored all the warning signs and tumbled headlong into a wedding she hadn’t really been ready for.

  Brian had been an expert at soothing her fears and saying wha t she wanted to hear. He’d made her believe her jitters were nothing more than typical wedding nerves. That he was the answer to all her prayers.

  Bastard. Evil bastard. She hoped he was currently as miserable as she was.

  The sky chose that moment to open up, and the rain poured down on her like someone had upended a bucket. The man in the Tahoe swore, and then he threw open his door and raced around to her side. He took her suitcase and tossed it in the backseat, then yanked open the passenger door and picked her up to tuck her inside. She was too surprised to protest. She was still tugging her skirts into place when he slammed the door and ran back around the Tahoe.

  Rain dripped from his dark hair, ran down the planes of his face. He was handsome, and her stomach churned anew. Not with fear this time. With some other feeling she didn’t dare examine.

  The rain sheeted down on the windshield, and water flooded the roadway. She swallowed. “Thanks for stopping.”

  He shrugged and pulled carefully back onto the road. “No problem.”

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sabrina.”

  She wasn’t sure if he would accept her handshake, but then his big hand closed over her small one. Gently, thank God. A tingle slid through her nerve endings.

  “Mal.”

  She pulled her hand away and smoothed her wet skirts. God, she’d loved this dress so much. It was probably ruined now. Like her wedding.

  “Where are you from, Sabrina?”

  She glanced at his profile, and her heart hitched anew. He was rather stunning, even dripping wet. He’d pushed his hand through his hair, and it slicked to his skull like a swimmer’s.

  “Tennessee.”

  “You’re probably a Peyton Manning fan then.”

  She blinked. “I don’t know who that is.”

  He turned to look at her, his eyes wide. “Seriously? You have no idea who Peyton Manning is?”

  “Should I?”

  He laughed. “He played football for the University of Tennessee before going into the NFL. He’s only one of the greatest quarterbacks that ever lived. Though I’ll deny it if you tell anyone I said so.”

  “I don’t watch football.”

  Sabrina sucked in a breath as they hit a bump in the road. The dress was cutting her in half, the boning working to keep her upright and forcing her to take shallower breaths than usual. She wished like hell she could reach around and unpop some buttons.

  “Don’t watch football? That’s un-American, sugar.”

  Sabrina shrugged. “Lots of people don’t watch football.”

  His hands flexed on the wheel. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t you want to watch football?”

  In truth, she saw football all the time since she worked at a bar in Nashville that often had games playing on the televisions around the room. She didn’t pay attention to it though, and she didn’t get what the big deal was. She was there to earn a living while trying to break into country music.

  “It’s a bunch of guys in tight outfits and pads throwing a tiny ball around on a field and jumping on top of each other. I don’t get why it’s important or why anyone cares.”

  His jaw dropped. Then he shook his head. “I’m speechless, Sabrina. Just speechless.”

  She didn’t know why she suddenly felt like laughing. Today hadn’t been a laughing kind of day. But he was looking at her like she was an alien, and it was somehow funny. She got the impression he was trying to make her laugh, which was pretty sweet considering she’d inconvenienced him and gotten him soaked in the process.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure you enjoy it very much. Probably meet your buddies in the bar to watch your favorite team and everything.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “It’s not my thing, but then I don’t understand it. Though that guy on the insurance commercials is pretty cute.”

  “You mean Aaron Rodgers.”

  “Is that his name? He seems to have a good sense of humor.”

  “Not as funny as you’d like on game day. He’s all business then.”

  He sounded like he knew the guy. She’d noticed that her customers in the bar were very invested in their teams. This man was simply another football fanatic with a favorite team.

  “The pizza guy is funny too.”

  Mal snorted. “The pizza guy is Peyton Manning.”

  “Oh. Then I guess I do know who he is.” Kinda.

  “Guess so.” He sounded amused.

  He turned onto another road. The rain was still coming down, and lightning flashed, a huge jagged bolt that cut through the sky almost in front of them. Sabrina squeaked when thunder crashed overhead.

  “We’ll be out of it soon,” Mal said as the wipers beat hard against the window.

  Her heart pounded. “I’m not usually scared of storms, but that was close.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward and peered into the rain. She couldn’t see anything in front of them, and she had no idea how he could. There was only rain and a couple of feet of pavement.

  He soon turned onto another road, only this one was narrow. It took her a second to realize it was a driveway. It cut through a swath of pines and live oaks dripping with moss.

  “Where are we?”

  He shot her a smile. “Home.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAL DIDN’T USUALLY BRING WOMEN to his home, yet here he was with a woman in a wedding gown. It was surreal to say the least. Then again, everything about this day was surreal. He hadn’t thought he’d ever stand in a cemetery while a twenty-one-gun salute sounded for his twin, or watch his mother accept a folded American flag, her fingers trembling as she did so. Mal’s stepfather had pulled her close, comforting her, while Mal stood there and swallowed the giant lump in his throat and tried not to shout how unfair it was.

  Mal gulped back the emotion before it overwhelmed him and pulled the Tahoe into the garage. The rain ceased pounding on the car, and it got instantly quieter. He turned to look at his passenger.

  She was as bedraggled as he felt, her blond hair wet and tangled, her clothes soaked through. He tried not to pay attention to what happened when white fabric got wet, but there was no mistaking the dusky tint of flesh beneath her bodice.

  “This is my house,” he told her. “You can get cleaned up and decide what you want to do next.”

  Her tongue darted out to lick her pink lips, and he felt a stirring in his groin.

  “That’s nice of you.”

  He could tell she was nervous, and he wanted to reassure her. “I grew up in Bridle Beach. I don’t live here anymore, but I had this house built so I could stay on my own when visiting family. My uncle is the sheriff, by the way.”

  He took his phone from his pocket and pulled up a family picture. Then he turned it and held it out to Sabrina.

  “That’s Uncle Billy right there in uniform.”

  She stared at the picture. “You’re a twin.”

  “Yeah.” He had to force it out since his voice threatened to fail him for a second. He pointed at the photo. “That’s me. That’s Chris.”

  They’d been standing with Uncle Billy and their dad at a parade a couple of years ago when his aunt snapped the picture. It was one of Mal’s favorites.

  Sabrina smiled. The corners of her mouth shook a little. He didn’t think it was because she was scared anymore. “Thanks for reassuring me. I know it’s a little late to be worrying about what kind of person you are. You must think me an idiot.”

  “No. I think you’re overwhelmed and upset.”

  She clutched her fingers together in her lap. “Definitely.” She pulled in a breath. “But I’m working on it.”

  “I bet a hot shower and a change of clothes would go a long way toward making you more comfortable.”

  “I would love that.”

  “Then we’d better get inside.”

  He went around and got her suitcase. She’d opened her door and scooted to the edge of the seat, looking down at the ground. Her pink toes dangled as she contem plated dropping to the floor. She was wearing flip-flops, which he hadn’t noticed before. Since she’d been getting married on the beach, it made sense.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up.

  “Need help?”

  “No thanks.”

  She reached up and grabbed the handle over the door, then stepped out onto the rain-slick running board before dropping to the floor. When she was flat on the floor, he realized that the top of her head came to the bottom of his pecs. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him through the makeup smearing her face.

  Then she smiled, a pretty baring of teeth that transformed her face. There was warmth and homecoming in that smile, and his gut clenched at the sight of it. He had an insane urge to put his fingers in her hair and bury his face in the long, messy strands.

  Insane because he didn’t know her at all. She could be a serial killer—though his gut insisted she wasn’t.

  “I grew up in the country,” she said, oblivious to the tattoo of his heart against his ribs or the confusion swirling inside him. “I’m used to tall trucks and long drops.”

  There was a musical twang in her voice that reminded him of lazy summer days and listening to the radio with his friends, when his only cares had been being the best football player he could be and asking girls out.

  Chris had been a big part of those days, playing quarterback to his receiver, laughing and sneaking the occasional beer when they could. They’d walked on the beach, thrown footballs around, and hammed it up for the girls. Since Bridle Beach always had tourists, they’d had even more girls to impress than usual.

  God, those were innocent days.

  “Hey,” Sabrina said. Her hand settled on his sleeve, and he looked down to find her brows lowered and an expression of concern on her face. “You okay?”

  Mal cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine. It’s been a long day.” He tucked her arm into his elbow and started toward the door leading inside, pulling her suitcase along behind him. “I’m thinking a hot shower is something I probably oughta indulge in as well.” He winked at her to put her at ease again. “Good thing I’ve got enough bathrooms and a big hot-water tank.”