O Line (The New York Nighthawks #3) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Insta-Love, Romance, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
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Wife-to-be: Why is a football stadium the coolest place to be?

I decided to let her off the hook. And I actually knew the answer to this one.

Me: Because it’s full of fans.

She sent a couple of laughing emojis.

Wife-to-be: Do you enjoy working with the kids?

She’d resisted my lure, but this was an opening I could jump on board with. I decided I wanted to hear her voice, especially for this conversation. A glance at the time showed she had about fifteen minutes before her flight boarded.

‘Hi,” she answered softly, and I could swear I heard a smile in her tone.

“Hey, baby. My fingers were getting tired.”

Wrenley giggled, making me grin.

“To answer your question, I love kids. Can’t wait to have my own. What about you?”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m hoping to have a family someday…” There was a lengthy pause before she continued, sounding wistful, “I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

Someday? I frowned. Not my preference, but I’d go along with whatever made her happy.

“How long do you want to wait?” I forced myself to sound patient so she wouldn’t feel pressured to give me whatever answer she thought I wanted to hear.

“It’s not that I want to wait. I’d happily put my modeling on hold to start a family, but the timing still has to be right. Obviously”—she chuckled—“I’d like to be married before I have a baby.”

Noted. And I completely agreed. She’d definitely have my last name before she gave birth. And if I had my way, that would be happening as soon as possible.

“Well, we can—”

“Darn it. They are calling my row. I’m sorry, Jordan, I have to go.”

“Travel safe, baby. And let me know when you get there.”

“Um, okay. Talk to you later.”

Three days.

Three fucking days and this nightmare would be over. I was never letting Wrenley go anywhere without me ever again.

My phone pinged from the bench a few feet away from where I was lifting weights, and I practically dive-bombed over to grab it.

“Damn, Jordan,” Prentice drawled with a chuckle. “I’ve only ever seen you move like that on the field. Whoever that is must be special.”

“She’s everything,” I responded with a nod as I opened my messages.

Wife-to-be: Why did the football coach go to the bank?

Shaking my head, I grinned as I typed.

Me: Why?

Wife-to-be: To get his quarterback.

I shook my head and chuckled. Her jokes were ridiculous, but they always made me laugh.

“Wow, look at that love-sick expression.”

I glanced up to see that Nixon had wandered over and was standing next to Prentice.

“You would know,” I muttered good-naturedly.

Nixon’s smile turned cocky. “You bet your ass.”

“I’m glad it all worked out for you boys,” Prentice commented, his tone filled with amusement.

“I’m just glad Jordan went and got a woman of his own,” Nixon muttered as he marched over to a treadmill. “Now I don’t have to kick his ass whenever he looks at mine.”

“Yeah, right back at you, asshole,” I replied before sending Wrenley a string of crying with laughter emojis.

Three days felt like forever.

4

Wrenley

All of my flights had gone smoothly until it was time for me to return to New York City. I was anxious to be home again…and to see Jordan. I’d enjoyed texting and talking with him on the phone over the past month, but it wasn’t the same as actually being with him. So I hadn’t been happy when my final flight was canceled, and the airline couldn’t get me out for another day.

Arriving home the night before the charity gala didn’t leave me a lot of time to prepare, which meant I wouldn’t be able to see Jordan until he picked me up for our date. One that I had to keep reminding myself was fake because my feelings for him were quite real.

I was exhausted when I finally arrived at my apartment, and I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining things when I saw a rolling rack with a dozen dresses in the middle of our living room in varying shades of purple, from pale lilac to deep eggplant. There was a tall stack of shoeboxes to the left of the rack, all brand names like Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin.

Releasing the handle of my rolling suitcase, I walked over to the rack and stroked my fingers down a silk dress. “What in the world?”

“It all came yesterday. A shopper from an exclusive boutique on the Upper East Side brought everything over.” Marleigh, my roommate and best friend, got up from the couch to hug me. “She was very disappointed that she didn’t get to meet you. Apparently, Jordan’s mom is one of their best customers. I think she was hoping to get the scoop on you so she could spill all the details to her before you meet his parents at the charity gala.”



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