CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 by Chance, Jacob (digital e reader TXT) 📕

word I’d use to describe how I feel about these pics. I have to run—literally. Are you still coming over tonight?

Nadia: I am.

Flynn: See you then.

Setting my phone down, I lean back in my chair and smile. I can’t remember a time I ever felt this excited about spending time with a man. Not even with my ex. We were wrong from the start and I didn’t allow myself to admit it wasn’t working. Things deteriorated quickly once we were married and I still hung in there for five years.

At least those years weren’t completely wasted. I started my own business and it led me to where I am now. I’m not certain what the future holds for Flynn and me, so I’m going to enjoy every laughter-packed moment we share while it lasts.

My cell phone rings with Kendra’s name showing on my screen. Plucking it from my desk, I answer the call. “Hey, how are you?”

“Nadia, I need your help.”

“What’s going on?”

“I need to get a hold of Flynn as soon as possible. Our grandfather had a massive heart attack. It doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m going to book flights for us, but I can’t reach Flynn to tell him.”

“He’s at practice. I’ll take a ride over there and fill him in while you book the flights,” I reassure her.

“Thank you, Nadia. Just so you know, Flynn is going to take this really hard.”

“I know he’s close with your grandfather, and I’ll be as gentle as possible when I tell him.”

As soon as the call ends, I rip the sweatshirt over my head and throw it down on my chair. Grabbing the dress, I slip it on and work the buttons through the holes, but my hands are shaking so badly it’s making it difficult. I’m worried how Flynn will take the news, but there’s no delaying his pain. Time is of the essence in cases like this.

Shoving my feet into my heels, I grab my purse and set about finding Flynn.

* * *

The field the Pirates hold most of their practices at is a fifteen minute drive from my office. My hands rigidly clench the steering wheel as I negotiate my way through the traffic. My left knee bounces incessantly at every red light I come to. Why is it whenever you’re in a hurry, traffic is always at its worst?

When I pull into the parking lot, I notice a text from Kendra that says their flight to Boston leaves at five o’clock. That only gives him a few hours to get home, pack, and make it to the airport in time to leave.

Gravel crunches under my high heels as I speed walk into the practice facility. Scanning the field, I notice Flynn is busy running drills. His focus is so deep he doesn’t even notice me. I make my way over to the coach and tell him Flynn has a family emergency and he needs to leave.

He blows his whistle, gaining his players’ attention. “Shaughnessy,” he calls out, waving him over.

Flynn jogs our way and I can see the precise moment he notices me. His concerned eyes look me over to make sure I’m okay. “What’s up, Coach?” he asks, still watching me.

I step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Flynn, you need to come with me. Your grandfather is in the hospital and it’s very serious.” His eyes flaring is his only reaction at first and I wonder if he’s in a bit of shock. I squeeze his shoulder.

“Coach, may I be excused from the rest of practice?”

Coach nods. “Get out of here, and good luck. I won’t expect you back tomorrow. Let me know what’s going on as soon as you can.”

“Thank you. I will.” He turns to me. “I’ll grab my stuff and meet you at my house.”

“Okay.” I hurry back to my car and say a prayer that his grandfather survives long enough for Flynn to get his goodbye.

* * *

Flynn pulls into his driveway behind me and I meet him at the door. He presses a quick kiss to my head before unlocking the door.

When we’re in the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, guzzling the whole thing down. “Do I have time to shower?” he asks.

“Yes, your flight’s at five. Do you want me to pack a bag for you?” I follow him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

“Please. Throw anything you think I’ll need in a bag. Everything’s in my closet.” He heads into the bathroom, and I grab a carry-on size suitcase with wheels from his massive walk in closet. Placing it on his bed, I unzip and open the top. There’s a good amount of space for what he needs to bring. I’m not sure how long he’ll be there for, so I pack enough for four or five days. I’m assuming he’ll have access to a washer and dryer at his parents’ house.

In the bathroom, I rifle through the cabinet under the sink and discover a new toothbrush still in the wrapper. I also find travel sized tubes of toothpaste, shower gel, and shampoo. Jackpot. Anything else he can get while he’s there.

He comes out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his hips and I’m struck by how absolutely gorgeous he is. He’s painfully attractive--the I-can’t-believe-this-guy-is-for-real kind of good looks. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t usually notice his outward appearance as much because I know and care for him on a deeper level. Maybe even the deepest level, but I’m not quite ready to admit that to myself or him.

My appreciation for how kind or how thoughtful he is means so much more to me than the fact that his strikingly handsome face belongs on a billboard.

“You’re all packed. I’m going to make you something to eat while you get dressed,” I say.

He walks over to me. I can see the pain in his eyes. His mind is already in