After the Rain

Chapter 1
October
Adrian

The Lizard is packed tonight. It’s another of Tullie’s fundraising events featuring the team. She inherited the pub from her brother after he died of prostate cancer. She’s tight with Leo, my running back. I’m the fullback for the Maine Titans.
Leo has us taking part in one of these events most months to help his best friend raise money for male health awareness. This month, it’s a best costume contest, and she’s got us dressed in the most ridiculous get-up yet. And that’s saying something after the short shorts we had to wear in August while eating out watermelons.
Yes.
Eating. Them. Out.
Don’t ask.
My boy, Killer got a daughter on the way and a girlfriend he’s crazy about out of it, so it wasn’t all bad.
Tonight, Tullie’s got us dressed as a burger with fries and ketchup. I’m the fucking ketchup. And as bad as that sounds, at least I’m not forced to stand in line with Felix (the bottom bun), Sammy (the beef patty with cheese), Leo (a tomato slice), Klay (lettuce), and Killer (pickles) to make the burger and toppings. Gavin lucked out and is the fries. All of this so Tullie can push her new menu selection, which, I have to hand it to her, the crazy burgers are amazing.
And yes, the meat jokes going on with Sammy are endless.
Truth be told, I could spend the night in a worse way. It’s October, so my schedule is pretty brutal, which means after football, other than hanging out with my boys, I don’t have a lot of free time. Mondays are technically our day off, but if we don’t play, the boys and I usually take a quick run and hit the weights, anyway. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for practice and game planning, Fridays after practice, we focus on special teams, Saturdays are wild card days, and Sundays are usually game days.
Being a Friday of a bi-week, tonight we can help Tullie out and still make it home to get enough rest before our day starts tomorrow.
After the voting is done and we’re victorious, we hang out with the girls at a few tables in the back area of the pub, which we’ve coined as ours. There’s even a picture and a plaque on the wall with the Maine Titans logo.
With some of my fancy footwork I save for the field, I got myself next to Kimmy tonight.
I’ve had my eye on the redhead for a few months now, but the timing was never right for me to make a move.
I met Kimmy through our mutual friends. The first time we laid eyes on one another, I couldn’t take mine off her, and she didn’t hide her blatant interest any better.
“Eyes are up here,” I joked, but it fell flat when her cheeks reddened and Gavin, our team’s number guy and resident sexy—according to the girls—nerd, admonished me for my poor behavior.
Usually, I would have brushed that shit off and moved on to one of the cleat chasers always at the ready, but I couldn’t muster the urge to care about anyone but the girl who held my rapt attention. Once I saw Kimmy, she was all I could think about.
I fell, and I fell hard. But I kept that shit to myself.
Unfortunately, after that night, she avoided all eye contact for a while, even made sure she was always seated between two of the girls so I couldn’t cozy up beside her.
But tonight, she’s finally giving me the time of day, and with the rest of our group pairing off or wandering into their own thoughts, I jump at the chance.
“I like the costume,” I say, and internally roll my eyes at my lack of game around this girl. I swear I’m way smoother than this. “You like strawberries?”
Jesus, did I honestly just ask her if she likes a fucking fruit?
Kimmy giggles, and her finger catches a loose wave of hair and twirls it. “Yeah. They’re okay. If I had to pick my favorite fruit, I think I’d go with a mango, though. But they didn’t have that costume. Daisy made us do the fruit theme because she’s monitoring the baby’s growth by the size of them.”
“What size is the baby now?” I ask about Killer’s unborn child he’s having with Kimmy’s friend, then roll my lips as I do my best not to eye fuck her. And if I’m being honest, to keep myself from saying anymore stupid shit.
Fuck.
I can already feel a pull toward her I rarely experience with women, and I know it would be best for me to be mature about this and remember she’s not someone I can pull a hit and run on. It’s possible I can pull off a lick and a promise, but even that’s debatable. There’s something special about Kimmy, something not like the girls I’m used to, and it intrigues me. It makes me want to spend more time with her, actually getting to know her, which is a change from my usual love them and leave them routine.
She’s going to be in my life forever because of our mutual friends.
If I piss her off, I piss off the other girls. They get mad, and my boys are going to have something to say about it, and that’s not something I want to deal with.
“Ah, last I heard, a cucumber, but a cucumber is so much longer than, say, an avocado like she was a week ago. None of it makes any sense to me. But don’t go by me, I’m not all that smart.”
My protective nature activates, and even though it’s a self-deprecating comment—if someone else said that, they’d be laid out on the floor—I should stop myself from reacting, but it’s difficult.
I need to control my reaction because this is the first time she’s even giving me the time of day since we met.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Not getting the feeling she’s uneducated like I would have been had I not had football, which earned me a full ride to college, or my mother, who helped me when I wanted to give up, I continue, “How so?”
My single working mom met my stepfather and moved us into the better part of town. Not long after we moved, Zander was born, and he was such a handful, I sort of slipped through the cracks at first. But it didn’t take my new teacher more than a few days to catch on that I was barely reading at grade level. Early intervention followed, as did extra help and tutoring by the school. Then, I was finally tested for a learning disability.
It’s how I became a smart-ass. It was my coping mechanism until football came along, for when kids made fun of me.
My brother and I both showed early signs of being gifted at football and were lucky enough our parents got us involved with the right coaches. But where Zander also had the smarts, ball was all I had.
He had things easier than I did all around, playing with a group of great guys and a coach since he was young. It took me until being drafted by the Titans to find the right fit and the teammates I also call my friends. A found family.
Kimmy shrugs. “I don’t know. I always feel kind of dumb around the rest of them.” She lifts her chin toward her friends, who are chatting animatedly with one another or one of my boys. “They all read a lot, and I don’t. They have really great jobs. I barely made it through two years of community college to become a secretary at an art gallery.”
I smile kindly. If what the guys tell me about their reading preferences is right, the girls are not reading the classics. No shame in a little erotica for female pleasure—lord knows us guys watch enough porn to make it a hundred-million-dollar industry—but she shouldn’t feel less than them, regardless.
“School was never my thing, either. I couldn’t wait for the draft. And I know how you feel. My little brother is graduating with a fancy degree in business.”
“Yeah, my brother is super smart too. What did you go to school for?”
I’ve heard stories from my friends about Kimmy being the ditzy one of the group. Montana is the sassy spitfire who takes no shit, Tullie is the workaholic of the bunch, which makes Gina the smart one, and Daisy the most independent. Becca is the baby of the group, and Payton is the lonely girl looking for love. They’ve made Kimmy out to be clumsy and quirky, and I’m here for all of it.
“Sports management.” I laugh. “I used my head when endorsements come up, and I save my money. I know football won’t last forever.” I shrug. “I’m hoping after it’s done, I’ll get a spot as a broadcaster or something.”
Kimmy nods and then changes the subject as she rubs at her temples. “Looks like our friends are all pairing up, huh?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Looks like. You want to share some food or something?” I ask. “I’m starved.”
She nods. “Sure. I feel a headache coming on. I get them sometimes when I’m on sensory overload. It’s loud in here. What do you like?”
I laugh. I’d like to tell her sex and offer her an orgasm. They’re a better way to rid yourself of a headache than a pill or a meal, but I censor my thoughts. “The better question is what don’t I.”
We share a sampler plate of appetizers while talking about our childhoods and current jobs. I don’t normally eat this way during the season, but with a bi-week, I’m throwing a little caution to the wind.
When the waitress returns to take our dirty plates, I hand over my card and wave off Kimmy’s offer to split the tab. “I got you,” I say, ignoring her eye roll. Unsure what to do next because this situation is complicated, what with our friends being who they are, once my card is in my wallet, I say, “I think I’m going to head out. You staying or—” I let my offer for a ride hang in the air. We both know what else the offer implies. There’s a pull between us, and I think she feels it as well.
I scrub a hand over my chin while I wait for her answer. Even though I already know she’s going to accept the ride, I watch as she mulls it over for good measure.
“I’ll take a ride,” she answers with a shy smile.
Kimmy may require my A-game and more work than I’ve ever dedicated to a girl, but something inside me is telling me to give it a chance. To take a leap of faith and figure out what she’s all about—the things she’s hiding, her insecurities, everything.
I slide out of my seat and, with a gentle hand in the dip of her lower back, I knock on the table with my free one to gain the attention of our friends, who have all but ignored us all night.
Checking that they know I’m leaving, and Kimmy has a safe way home, I say, “Later. Everyone get home safe.”
“You’re leaving?” Felix, my tight end, asks. “What time is it?”
Looking at her phone for the answer, Montana says, “Oh shit! It’s getting late. We should go too. Pay, you want a ride?”
Payton nods and gets to her feet with the happy couple.
“Yeah,” Gina says, nudging our All-American boy next door, Klay, to stand. “We should get home for the sitter, too.”
With that, Daisy yawns and blames it on Calypso.
“I can’t believe you let him talk you into actually naming her that,” Becca, Killer’s sister, says with no signs of getting up to leave.
“Hey,” Killer admonishes his little sister. “Calypso is the daughter of the strongest Titan. It fits.”
Becca rolls her eyes and elbows Gavin in the ribs. “How are you his best friend? I’m stuck with him. You chose him.”
Gavin smiles at Killer, and Sammy teases them about their bromance.
Leo sighs. “I’m going to go find Tutu and see if she needs any help.” It’s his nickname for Tallulah because when they met, she was wearing one that ended up around her waist while he had a perfect shot of her ass. They’ve been best friends, hiding their true feelings for each other, ever since.
The group of us heads toward the door with coats in hand.
I’m drawn close to Kimmy, already protectively shooting daggers at every guy who looks her way as we walk past their tables.
Before going out into the cold Maine night, I help her slide her jacket on, then shove my hands deep into my pockets.
“I’m over there,” I say, and watch as our gang all head toward their cars.
At my truck, as she attempts to open her door, I ask, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Kimmy’s eyes scan the area for the answer, unsure what I’m asking.
I lean in close to her, her scent filling my nose and instantly hardening my cock, then reach a hand around her. I open the passenger-side door and hold out my hand to help her into the cab. My truck is one of the biggest splurges I made after getting drafted and moving to Maine, before I bought my parents their house and then mine.
Kimmy scoffs at the gesture but takes my hand to climb in all the same, clearly irritated by my gentlemanly actions.
After getting Kimmy situated and then climbing in myself, I turn the engine on and face her with a wink. “How about you put your address into my GPS?” I suggest, and Kimmy cues up the location, not hesitating to let me know where she lives. I guess it makes sense. We might not know one another all that well yet, but our friends do, so I’m probably vetted as safe in her head.
With nothing else coming to mind to talk about, a rumbling sound fills the air in the small space as I clear the frog that has lodged itself in my windpipe. I’m never like this with women, but Kimmy is different.
Sure, her girlfriends like to tease her about being dumb, but she’s not. She’s quirky, but Kimmy isn’t stupid.
What she is—and why I’m not displaying my A-game—is too good for me. That burnt red hair that reminds me of leaves in the fall, and those ocean blue eyes like the sea water in the summer make me the one who’s struck dumb.
Because she’s not a silly girl looking for a quick hookup with the fullback on the Maine Titans for bragging rights. She also doesn’t strike me as the type looking for a night of fucking and nothing more come morning. Those girls, I know what to do with.
They come pressure-free with no stake in the game.
I know my skills in bed are above par and, thanks to genetics, I also know my anatomy is well-above average, so a good time is had by all.
But things with Kimmy aren’t as easy as a good lay.
If I fuck shit up with her, there will be hell to pay coming at me from all angles. That group of girls my friends are with, Kimmy’s tribe, they’re scary as shit with protecting one of their own. And Kimmy is one of theirs.
But the bigger crux of the issue is with me. The way I feel about this girl before we’ve even gotten to know one another scares the shit out of me. I hope this doesn’t end as badly as I’m predicting.
I have no clue how to begin a polite conversation, this being our first time alone in each other’s company. “Ah…” I stutter. Yeah, I’m off to a great fucking start. This was easier in the noisy pub with food to take up most of the time.
Kimmy smiles without effort, her rosy apple cheeks so plump, they’re begging me to kiss them. “Hmm?” she asks, twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers as she adjusts the heat. “Is it okay if I turn this up? I’m freezing.”
I can feel her gaze on me, but I keep my eyes plastered on the road. “Oh, yeah, sure. Here,” I say. “Let me turn on the seats, too.”
She giggles, and it comes out with an adorable little snort. “Fancy. Now my ass can be toasty warm, too.”
I’d like to make her ass toasty warm alright, but with my hand spanking it until it’s flaming red just like that hair I want to fist in my grip and tug tight while I slip inside her warm heat from behind.
Thankfully, I’m smart enough to keep that thought to myself. Unfortunately, my dick read my mind—maybe my brains are in him—and now I need to figure out a way to shift him around without her noticing.
I maneuver us out of town, and at first things are quiet on the ride to her place. Kimmy looks out the window, studying the scenery she grew up with passing by. At least, I think one of the guys mentioned she’s from here.
Finally growing a pair, I ask, “You grew up here, right?”
Kimmy nods but doesn’t elaborate.
“Art gallery, huh?” I ask next, hoping I’ll get more than a tilt of her head this time.
And I do.
Kimmy tells me her boss’s life story, starting with Mallory’s second chance at love and how she’s never been happier since divorcing her first husband to get back together with her artist ex and opening the gallery in Falls Village.
She slips off her gloves and holds her hands in front of the vents on my dash. “I run cold.”
That makes me smile. “With all that red hair, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a cold kind of girl.”
My eyes shift from the road in time to see her shrug.
“I hate it as much as my freckles,” she admits. “I’m not lucky like you.”
That has me questioning her sanity because since meeting her, they’ve been my favorite thing to think about.
Especially at night.
When I’m alone in my bed.
I think about tracing them with my tongue. Well, the ones I think about being on her inner thighs and covering her tits, anyway. Licking the ones on her face would be creepy. Instead of telling her that, I ask, “How so?”
She chuckles. “You own a mirror, right? I mean, come on. You’re cocky for good reason. You exude swagger. You’re handsome and experienced with women. I’d put every dime I have in the bank on you having a big dick.”
She’s got me all wrong.
Sure, I act cocky on the field, and having swagger is just part of the game. And okay, I can admit I was blessed by the gods of good looks and big dicks, but I did nothing special to earn those. It’s not like I found the cure for cancer or anything. I was born with good genes, and here I am.
“Anyway,” she continues with a quirk of the corner of her lips. “I do like working at the gallery, and Mallory is cool. She’s flexible if I have an appointment or something. I can work from home a lot, too, and she doesn’t care about sick or vacation days as long as I get my work done.”
It shocks me she holds my attention and makes me want to know more. Usually, all I’m thinking about with a woman is how long until my dick is in her mouth. With Kimmy, of course, my mind has gone there a few times in the short ride, but I also hear her talk about her daily tasks at her job…and actually listen.
She’s honest, saying what she thinks. Like when she shares her feelings about her boss’ reconciliation with her ex and the timing. Kimmy admits to not being a fan of cheating but also remaining neutral when it’s something that isn’t her business.
Her attention, when she turns the tables on me, is like a drug, and her smile when she laughs, her dimples popping when she does, is proving to be my Kryptonite.
Laughing, she says, “But who am I to judge? I can barely keep a plant alive, let alone make a marriage work. How about you? Tell me about the Titans. What do you do on the team? Hit the other guys to the ground or run with the ball?”
That makes me laugh as I pull up to her apartment complex in Waterland Isle. It’s the largest of the three small towns that are barely the size of one typical-sized place in the area. The other two being Falls Village and Lime Peak, where I live. “Something like that.”
“This is me,” she says, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips, which must be dry from the heater she pointed at her face.
“Wow!” I exclaim. I hadn’t realized Kimmy lived in such a luxury high-rise, and I can’t imagine her job as a secretary at an art gallery pays her enough to afford it. “These apartments are nice, super pricey, too. Sammy and I looked into buying a place here and decided against it.”
She blushes. “My dad is a little over the top with what he thinks is his job as a father. He insisted I live where there’s a doorman and other security measures, like this is some metropolitan area, not small-town Maine.”
“That’s sort of nice,” I state when what I really want to ask is how her father affords this place.
“Okay,” Kimmy says, turning to face me as I put the car in park in a visitor spot. “Look, I don’t talk about it, and don’t make a big thing over it, alright?”
I nod before I even know what I’m agreeing to.
“I assumed you already knew this from the others, but my dad is Kevin Richmond.”
I stare at her with wide eyes. “But—”
She opens the car door to get out, and I quickly rush to open mine and get to her side of the truck.
I take a minute because I’m dumbstruck over this new piece of information about her and pissed that my friends hid this from me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she states as I help her jump out of the cab. “My last name is Silva. Well, if you knew that.” She pushes her hand through the air as if it doesn’t matter while she continues to ramble. I find it cute. Most times, I would have let my ADHD take over, and I wouldn’t have heard a word the girl said. Not with Kimmy, though. I’m riveted to her every word. “If not, it is. I use my mother’s maiden name for privacy.”
“The Kevin Richmond?” I ask for clarification because it’s just too hard to believe. “Like the spaceman, Kevin Richmond?”
Kimmy rolls her eyes as I try to keep up, both in stride and with this new information. The first thing I’m doing when I see the guys is pummeling each of them for not telling me this. “Yeah, him.” There’s a touch of disdain in her voice as a mask slides over her features.
“Do the girls know?” I ask to be sure my boys deserve the beating they have coming.
“Of course.”
“So my friends must?” I state as a question.
This is unbelievable. Why has this never come up in conversation?
“I guess,” Kimmy says as I follow her into the lobby, and she greets the staff with a cheerful smile and, “Hey, Danny,” to the man behind the front desk who smiles at her in return. He gives me the once over then must realize who I am and lifts his chin in approval.
Once in the silence and privacy of the elevator, I state what she obviously knows. “He’s the richest man in the world.”
“Also the most annoying,” she says with another roll of her eyes. “Hence this over-the-top place, when I want to live in Payton’s building in Falls Village. It’s still a swanky high-rise, but at least it overlooks the water with the perfect view of the Falls Village lighthouse. It has charm and character.”
I laugh. “Ah, this place has—”
“Chrome and glass. I hate it. It’s pretentious.”
“Okay.” That’s all I can come up with as a response, but then I add, “Your dad owns outer space.”
Growing up, I was obsessed with outer space.
I loved the moon and the stars. I knew the name of every planet and what the environment was like there.
I wanted to be an astronaut. Too bad for me, they rarely have ADHD and dyslexia.
The elevator stops just as Kimmy snorts. “Yeah, he thinks so, too. I’ve told him he should go live there a few times. The distance would be welcomed.” She stops before opening her door and stares at me looking at her. “What? Oh, no! Do not look at me like that now. I don’t do that to you.” Her finger jabs me in the chest, and the zing of electricity between us causes a spark to run through my system.
“Do what to me?” I ask, completely confused about what she’s accusing me of.
“You’re a household name around here. Mothers would give up their firstborn for your attention, but I have never fangirled.”
“I don’t know about that with the mothers, and what’s fangirling?”
“I do, and it’s when girls go crazy over someone they admire. The girls talk about it all the time. They have a few favorite authors they’ve met and…well, fangirled. Are you coming in?” she asks, then continues without missing a beat. “I was in the pharmacy the other day and overheard two women talking about you and the guys. They were reading the paper with that spread you did for Tally. They definitely were fangirling. Over you.”
My friends and I did the photo shoot dressed as the burger and fries to help Tullie advertise the new menu selections she’s introducing. Apparently, she was right, and not wearing shirts, so our arms were highlighted, was a hit. If I’m not mistaken, I think she called it arm porn. Because girls have a language us men will never understand is why there’s so much miscommunication between the sexes.
“Sure,” I answer, ignoring this fangirling stuff and responding to her offer to come inside. “I’d like that.”
Instead of responding, Kimmy says, “Because my father thinks he owns the world—”
“Technically, I think it’s outer space he’s interested in,” I interrupt, then shut my mouth when she sends a warning look my way.
“Yeah? Well, if you’re interested in this night ending with us naked, you better watch it with the hero worshipping of the lord of the stars.”
I laugh from the pit of my stomach. “Do you call him that to his face?” I ask. “Does he know?”
“Only to his face a time or two. It wasn’t well received. He’s very literal and corrected me with some astrophysics mumbo-jumbo bullshit I couldn’t understand, and it made me feel stupid. So I dropped it.”
That makes me a little angry as I follow her into her apartment. No one should make her feel stupid for not understanding that level of science. As much as I struggled in school, my parents never made me feel dumb. I guess I was lucky in that respect.
The differences in our upbringings seem cavernous, too wide, too deep, for us to meet in the middle, yet there’s nothing more I’d like because even though we’re from two completely different places, I’ve never felt a connection with a girl the way I do with her. It’s unexplainable.
But now that I know how far out of my league she is, I’ve decided telling Kimmy how I feel would not be a smart move on my part. Friends with benefits might be the best I can hope for.