Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) by Rachel Blaufeld Read Free Book Online

he wasn’t all that good-looking. But football wasn’t his life. He was majoring in accounting and enjoying having a beautiful woman, despite his pockmarked face.
    “Is my sex life all anyone can talk about?” I leaned over my knees and tried to breathe through my nose.
    “Nah. That’s mine. The ladies can’t seem to stop talking about me and my shlong.”
    “Shut the fuck up, Toots. We all know you’re a one-woman guy. Berit would have your balls on a skewer if she knew you talked like that.”
    Toots laughed and brushed back his shaggy brown hair. “Seriously, what’s up? What’re you doing in my neck of the woods?”
    I stood up straight, breathing deeply. “Got a lot on my mind. Whole place is talking about the ’ship. I know we’re a team, but I’m feeling a lot of pressure to carry the load. Plus, I got the added bullshit of whether to enter the draft.”
    “I hear you, man. But you’ve got what a lot of us will never see. A future doing what you love.”
    I nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know. One week, you feel like you’re an invincible college dude, and the next, you’re an adult. And fucking Sonny took away my one stress reliever, the little shit.” I laughed out the last part, trying to lighten up the conversation.
    Toots shook his head. “You’re the one who’s dumb enough to be friends with him. You know he always pushes the limits. He’s a cock-blocking shock jock.”
    “Cock-blocking shock jock. Try saying that three times fast!” My laughter ripped through the empty stadium, echoing off the bleachers. “Think he can he put that on his résumé?”
    Toots laughed with me, his large frame shaking.
    I slapped him on the back and said, “I’m outta here. Catch you soon.”
    Toots headed in the other direction to start his run as I jogged out the side entrance and down the hill to the field house. Coach would tear me a new one if I was late to work out.

    I left the field house a couple of hours later, my hair still damp from the shower, dripping a little on my Hafton sweatshirt. My phone buzzed, and I slid my hand into my back pocket to pull out my phone, curious as to who the hell was bothering me.
    “Hi, Mom,” I said. “How you doing?”
    “I’m good, baby. How are you?” A rustling came over the line, and her voice muffled a little as if she was speaking away from the phone. “Slow down, Rocky!”
    “What are you doing, Mom?”
    “I’m walking the dogs, and Rocky is chasing after some pretty piece of Rottweiler. Rocky!” My mom kept shouting the dog’s name, and I was forced to hold the phone away from my ear.
    “Mom? You should call me later and free up your hands.”
    “Nah, don’t be silly. I got one of those earpiece thingies, and I’m hands-free. I just turned to walk in the other direction, and Rocky’s not distracted anymore. The little guys are easy, doing their thing, so I’m all yours.”
    My mom was a bit of a kook. Dad walked out on us years ago, and since then she’d spent her time writing romance novels and adopting dogs. She was definitely not your typical stay-at-home mom with milk and cookies on the table, but I loved her.
    She’d put her life on hold when she found she was pregnant with me, married my dad, who she never really loved, and tried to make a life in a trailer park. When that failed, she picked up the pieces and raised me as a single mom, making ends meet with her writing and a full-time job in a coffee joint.
    “You doing okay, Mom?”
    “I’m good. I took in this cat until he gets adopted. He’s a diabetic so it’s tricky, but the Yorkies like him, and Rocky is managing. Oh! I forgot to tell you, my last book went to the top of Amazon’s charts. Not bad for a high school graduate.”
    “That’s great, Mom. But do you really need a diabetic cat? Don’t you think you have enough on your plate?”
    “It’s one little kitty. The animal league gives me his medicine, so hush up, Blane. Are you ready for your season?”
    “Yeah.