The Dream Groom: Texas Titans Romances Read online

  The Dream Groom

  Texas Titans Romances

  Taylor Hart

  Contents

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Also by Taylor Hart

  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

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  The Second Chance Groom

  Also by Taylor Hart

  About the Author

  Copyright

  All rights reserved.

  © 2018 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Foreword

  Dear readers

  If you’re like me, you can’t get enough of fast-paced, clean romances! There’s something immensely satisfying in cuddling up with a book that focuses on the emotional journey between the characters – all their trials, challenges, mistakes and ultimately triumphs!

  You’re sure to adore this collection featuring four tough and rugged NFL players looking for just the right women to claim victory over their hearts. Don’t miss these tender and touching stories!

  All best,

  RaeAnne Thayne

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

  Check out the latest book in Haven Point, SUGAR PINE TRAIL, available now. http://amzn.to/2CYQCWm

  Introduction

  I’ve been privileged to know Taylor Hart, Cami Checketts, Jennifer Youngblood, and Lucy McConnell for a few years. We even get together to have author lunch dates where we talk about how much fun we’re having writing our sweet romances. We get all excited as we talk about our characters and what’s happening to them. You would think these were real people we were talking about. Maybe because to us they are real people.

  To make it even more fun, the heroes in our stories are NFL football players--hot, athletic men who are driven to succeed despite their flaws. These stories wouldn’t be complete without our strong heroines who see past the flaws of these men to fall in love with them. I’ve enjoyed exploring these types of relationships in my own football romance series, the Fair Catch Sports Romance Series.

  Now, enjoy this exciting and romantic story about the players of the Texas Titans football team!

  Christine Kersey

  Author of the Fair Catch Sports Romance Series

  Also by Taylor Hart

  Bachelor Billionaire Romances

  The Country Groom

  The Unfinished Groom

  The Barefoot Groom

  The Masquerading Groom

  The Christmas Groom

  Rescue Me: Park City Firefighter Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion)

  The Lost Groom

  The Undercover Groom

  The Last Play Series

  Last Play

  The Rookie

  Just Play

  A Player for Christmas

  Second String

  End Zone

  Hail Mary

  Snow Valley Series

  A Christmas in Snow Valley: The Christmas Eve Kiss

  Summer in Snow Valley: First Love

  Spring in Snow Valley: The Bet

  Chapter 1

  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, thought Scar Walker as he pulled himself out of the ocean water. He’d surfed all morning, and it felt good. Dang good. He hadn’t been back to San Diego in over two years. He certainly hadn’t surfed at Coronado Island since high school.

  Being back in San Diego held mixed blessings for him. Yesterday, he’d been in a series of long meetings with the contractors, the architects, and the project manager for his Kincaid-funded ‘Sparring for Vets’ project. It was a dream for Scar to be able to make his idea a reality, and he loved being in charge of it.

  Unfortunately, the staff he’d found in San Diego didn’t quite share his vision yet. Scar had kept trying to make it clear it wasn’t just a regular gym. This gym would be a hangout for military vets, of which San Diego had a lot. There were many guys who needed somewhere they could go to spar and chill, and they needed a different atmosphere than they wouldn’t find in most gyms.

  The architect did have a good idea to put a juice bar and a coffee shop in it. At first, Scar had balked at the idea; he didn’t want the vets to feel like they had to buy something if they came in. After talking to Anthony Kincaid—his friend from Texas and the gym’s main financial backer—they’d decided to offer free coffee, with other items for sale if the guys wanted fancier stuff. The money could go to paying vets to work there. Yes, that sounded like a great solution to Scar.

  Trudging up the beach, he looked over at the U.S. Naval Base, where the government did BUDS training, and thought of the six years he’d spent as a SEAL. They were the best years of his life, and he missed them. He grunted and rubbed his left shoulder, thinking that the bullet wound was more than an injury—it symbolized the end of being a SEAL. After the injury, he’d been given the boot. They had all but said, Thank you for your service to our country. Now, go figure out your own dang life!

  He lay back into the sand, feeling the rising sun start to heat his bodysuit. Surfing had been a solace for him his whole life. Getting up early and surfing the public beaches had been his tonic for being poor, for a mother who’d left them and then died of cancer, and for a father who’d turned violent when drunk.

  He reflected on his current circumstances. After being a SEAL, if he hadn’t been able to join the Titans’ practice team two years ago, he didn’t know what he would be doing with his life. His brother had always wanted him to come home and help with the tour company. No way. Never gonna happen. Too much family in his life was not something he could handle. His thoughts drifted to his brother, who lived roughly twenty minutes away in Carlsbad. Scar would be seeing him for breakfast. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms after their father’s funeral two years ago.

  Sitting up and shaking himself back to the present, he stood and stripped off the rubber suit. Staying in it too long after surfing was death to a newbie’s skin. He reached for the gallon-sized carton full of fresh water he’d brought with him and chugged it, then poured the remaining water on his head, down his arms,
and over his whole body.

  He gathered up his board, put his suit over his arm, and slipped on his flip-flops. He trudged back to the beat-up 1969 Cougar he’d pulled out of the storage unit. His father had loved this car.

  Scar sighed and stopped short of the rack on the back, slipping the board in it. Without caring who was around he began stripping down to nothing—the beach was pretty empty at the moment anyway—he took out another gallon of water and drenched himself. He put on a different pair of pants and a T-shirt. There was a delicious bacon, eggs, and waffle place for tourists nearby.

  After dressing, Scar got the old car fired up and eased his way through the streets, taking his time. With the sun just barely up, it was perfect, bringing back memories of hanging out with his brother on the beach. Bonfires and volleyball, it’d been fun.

  Then he remembered joining the Navy, and his brother telling him he would hate him for the rest of his life. His brother had pretty much kept that promise. At their father’s funeral, Scar had hoped they could mend things, but his brother had still been angry that he’d left him all those years ago.

  Scar roared into the little lot of an old mom-and-pop diner and shut off the car. His stomach growled, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

  As he strode in, he noticed the place was busy. The ambiance wasn’t stellar—the door stuck when he pushed it open, and there were clear signs that bacon grease was constantly cleaned off the walls, off of everything—but it smelled heavenly. That, combined with the maple syrup, made any visitor ignore the possible health code violations, which were as prevalent as the aroma of bacon.

  Sitting at one of the tables, he closed his eyes and waited to be served, going through each discernible scent in his brain. The coffee was strong and poignant. The waffles and syrup were sweet and crisp. Ah, the taste would be perfect. The bacon was always crunchy and cooked exactly like he liked it. The eggs never disappointed, fluffy and seasoned just right with salt and pepper, no runniness about them. Scar hated runny eggs.

  “Brandon.”

  Scar opened his eyes and felt the annoyance from two years ago descend upon him. His brother refused to call him anything but his real name. He nodded and replied in a formal, clipped tone. “Steven.”

  His brother sat, flaring his nostrils. “Glad you finally left a note after Dad’s been dead, what? Two years?”

  Great, they were starting the fight right off. Scar didn’t put any gasoline on the already ignited flame.

  His brother was shorter by two inches, but he was built. Even though he was younger and they’d once been best friends, Steven never listened or valued anything Scar said anymore. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Already Scar regretted leaving that note yesterday. “This was clearly a mistake.”

  His brother narrowed his eyes before turning to the menu, which consisted of one laminated page. “Let’s just order. We’re already here, and I wanted to see you anyway.”

  This took Scar by surprise. “Why?”

  He heard the pop of a pen top, and his eyes flitted to the waitress. He did a double take. She had fire-red hair and bright green eyes. She was beautiful, and Scar had been around quite a few beautiful women. “What can I get you?” she asked without preamble.

  Unable to stop himself, he flashed a smile. “Wow, a woman who gets straight to business. I like that.”

  Her eyes met his, and she glared at him before turning to his brother. “What would you like?”

  Without missing a beat, Steven rattled off his order. “Eggs, scrambled. Toast, wheat. Bacon. Water.” He shot Scar a superior look, then picked up the menu and put it in the holder on the side of the table. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes swung back to Scar. She looked bored already. “What would you like?”

  “Coffee, black. Bacon, greasy like a pig’s backside.” He laughed at his own stupid joke, uncomfortably aware of his brother’s gaze. “Eggs, light. Waffles, fluffy like a cloud. The maple syrup, smooth like …”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Scar shifted a bit in his seat. His brother didn’t find him funny and he didn’t know what he’d done to tick the waitress off already. He flashed her his best smile, the one he’d practiced in the mirror to use on the media, though he would never admit it to anyone. It was the one he would use if he were ever to accept an award or be recognized for saving the team from failure. “And a beautiful woman serving me. What more could a man want?”

  Scowling, she didn’t write, but simply surveyed him. “Listen, soldier. You may be looking for a good time, but you can stop looking here.”

  There were lots of vets around these parts; she was obviously hit on by them quite a bit. But he wouldn’t let her shut him down in front of his brother. “Sweetheart, I was a soldier, but believe me, you wouldn’t be my idea of a good time.”

  She stuck her chin in the air. “Well, then, we’re agreed.” With that, she slipped away.

  A slow rumble of laughter sounded from across the table, and his brother wiped at his eyes, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Man, I’m glad to see you still haven’t lost your charm.”

  Scar cursed at him, regretting this meeting more and more. His brother just laughed harder.

  The waitress hurried back over to put a water and a coffee on the table, not meeting their eyes.

  “Thank you,” Steven said.

  Scar just watched her rush off to bus another table. She grabbed two glasses and a stack of four plates before heading to the back and disappearing behind the swinging doors. He hated to admit the woman was attractive, and maybe her pissed-off attitude was too. Yeah, Scar could appreciate the allure of a feisty woman.

  Turning his attention to the other customers, he saw some obvious tourists tapping away at their phones. They must have found a local’s favorite and wanted to give the place a try. Through the front window, he could see heavy machinery lounging, ready for construction. Maybe they would give this place a facelift and try to pretty it up. It made him sad to think about it. Why did things need a facelift to be prettied up? He just liked them real, the way they were.

  It was stupid how many press people asked him about the scar that went from the top of his left eye down his face to the bottom of his left cheek. What had happened? they wondered out loud. Sometimes he would make something up. Sometimes he would tell them to mind their own business.

  He clutched a fork and started fishing ice out of his water.

  “So how long are you here for?” his brother asked, breaking the silence.

  Focusing on Steven, Scar lazily twirled the fork in his hand, still scanning people walking in the diner. He’d been trained to be aware of his surroundings. It was a habit he was unable to break. “Three weeks, four tops. I’m working on a project to help military vets.”

  “Really?” Steven crossed his arms, looking irked. “So you’re not here to see me at all. You’re just here for some pipe dream as usual.”

  It stung, his brother bringing up the fact they hadn’t seen each other. Give him an enemy to take down, a ball to get down the field, but don’t make him do this. Why had he left that note for his brother yesterday? “I wanted to see you, idiot, or you wouldn’t be here.” The words came out rougher than he meant them. Or had they? Okay, maybe he did mean them that way.

  “I don’t know, Scar.” Steven said the nickname with an edge to his voice. “We have crap we’ve needed to figure out since Dad died, but you—” He gestured sharply. “—left me to figure out the business all alone.”

  Scar’s heart rate spiked. “I had an attorney draw up papers and send them to you, giving you the whole company. But you never signed them and sent them back.”

  Steven rolled his eyes, lifting a hand with a dismissive wave. “Whatever. And then, since you weren’t saving the world as a Navy SEAL and trying to get yourself killed, you decided to go and join the Titans’ practice team. When are you going to realize it’s not cool to go get the crap pounded out of you every s
econd? Didn’t your injury in that godforsaken place teach you anything?”

  Scar took a minute to evaluate Steven. Was he really this upset about Scar’s wellbeing? That would be a change. Instantly, he dismissed the thought. Steven had never respected the accomplishment of becoming a Navy SEAL or making the practice team for the Titans. “I sent you tickets both times we came to San Diego. You never showed up, bro.”

  “Because it would have been such a huge inconvenience for you to get your butt down to the dock?”

  “Not the point,” Scar said, wishing again he’d never set up this appointment.

  “It is exactly the point! Dad gave the company to both of us!”

  Just at that moment, the waitress appeared with a couple of their plates. She didn’t seem to be listening, even though he didn’t know how she could not be listening. After situating it all, she held up a finger. “I’ll be back with the bacon.” She rushed off.

  He and his brother held each other’s eyes for a brief moment, and he watched as his brother pulled in a long breath.

  “You have to keep your voice down,” Scar said, trying not to sound patronizing.

  Steven reddened. This was exactly what he’d always done: stuff his anger. He picked up a fork. “San Diego is your home. We always talked about what we would do with Dad’s business. Do you remember that? How it was our dream? And we would raise our kids together.”