Offsides: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1—Thrown for a Loss

  Chapter 2—Taking a Time Out

  Chapter 3—Charmed, I’m Sure

  Chapter 4—Opponents on the Same Team

  Chapter 5—One Yard and a Cloud of Dust

  Chapter 6—A New Game Plan

  Chapter 7—A Loss on Downs

  Chapter 8—Illegal Use of the Hands

  Chapter 9—Blitzed

  Chapter 10—No Gain

  Chapter 11—Scrambling for a Few Yards

  Chapter 12—Faked Handoff

  Chapter 13—Slammed to the Turf

  Chapter 14—Goal-Line Stand

  Chapter 15—Offsides

  Chapter 16—Charged a Time-Out

  Chapter 17—Threading the Needle

  Chapter 18—Naked Bootleg

  Chapter 19—Running the Option

  Chapter 20—Losing Field Position

  Chapter 21—Wine and Football

  Chapter 22—The Clock is Ticking Down

  Chapter 23—Loose Ball Foul

  Chapter 24—Forward Progress

  Chapter 25—Game on the Line

  Chapter 26—Out of Time-Outs

  Chapter 27—The Clock Ran Down

  Chapter 28—For the Love of the Game

  Complete Booklist

  About the Author

  Offsides

  A Seattle Steelheads Football Classic

  THE GAME ON IN SEATTLE COLLECTION

  By Jami Davenport

  Copyright © 2019 by Cedrona Enterprises

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Jami Davenport. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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  The Seattle Sockeyes®, Seattle Steelheads™, and Seattle Skookums™ are fictional sports teams and a series of romance novels. Game On in Seattle™ is a series of sports romance novels. The names and logos are created for the sole use of the owner and covered under protection of trademark.

  This book is a work of fiction. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product 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.

  Warning

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-age readers.

  Email: [email protected]

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  Blurb

  He's the beast, and she's the beauty of his past.

  After twelve years in the league, all Zach Murphy wants is a Super Bowl ring. His focus has been on hard hits–not smooth manners; about breaking quarterbacks–not making small talk at cocktail parties. After dumping a tray of drinks on the team owner’s daughter and accidentally feeling up the governor’s wife, his tenure with his team looks perilously short.

  Kelsie Carrington-Richmond knows what it's like to fall from grace. A onetime beauty pageant star and former high-school mean girl, she's now destitute and one step from living out of her car. With few real job skills, she focuses on starting her new business, Charm School for Real Men. She's thrilled to land her first clients, the Seattle Steelheads, who have hired her to polish their roughest player.

  Except…it’s Zach. The same guy whose broken heart she left in her wake when she was still a mean girl. He’s just the beast she remembers—but she’s nothing like the beauty queen she once was.

  Can they get beyond their pasts? Or will they both find themselves offsides?

  Previously published as Down by Contact in 2013. This version has been updated, re-written, and re-edited. Previously published as Down by Contact in 2013. This version has been updated, re-written, and re-edited.

  Dedication

  For Steph. I don’t know where you went or how your life ended up, but I hope you’re happy now and living a life free of abuse. I miss our talks, and I’m thinking of you.

  Author’s Note

  What are The Originals?

  Years ago I wrote and published several football romances in the Seattle Lumberjacks series. Due to contractual restrictions, I was unable to use the Lumberjacks as my series name when the books reverted to me. The Lumberjacks books are being rewritten and rolled into my Steelheads series with the subtitle of “The Originals” to differentiate them from the newer books in the series.

  You might have noticed that the first three novels in “The Originals” collection of Seattle Steelheads novels have been released out of order. I’ve been releasing them in the order that they reverted to me from my former publisher. Because Kickoff (formerly Fourth and Goal) was originally published by a different publisher and later contracted with another publisher, it ended up reverting to me after Books 2 and 3 of the original series.

  The current true chronological order is:

  1—Kickoff

  2—Snap Decision

  3—Offsides

  4-6—The rights have not reverted yet

  The Steelheads 7 years later:

  7—Blindsided

  8—Game Changer

  9—Fumble Recovery

  Chapter 1—Thrown for a Loss

  Twelve years and a couple multimillion-dollar football contracts changed a lot of things for a kid who’d grown up poor, but obviously not enough.

  Zach Murphy shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. In less time than it took to hike a football, he’d been catapulted from a man who commanded respect and controlled his own destiny to one of inadequacy and uncertainty.

  He hated these fancy banquets where everyone pretended to be something they weren’t, where the wealthy paid big sums to hang out with professional athletes all in the name of charity. Zach preferred his charitable work to be more low-key and private. Even worse, he hated how these affairs made him feel like he was still on the outside looking in. He’d tried to fit into a crowd like this once, and it’d been a disaster. Now he didn’t give a shit.

  The bottom line was he didn’t like these stupid-assed events. He’d already managed to insult some millionaire geek’s wife by stating the charity she chaired would do more good if their board had volunteers spend less time on task forces and more time doing the actual work. Yeah, he’d done his homework and wasn’t impressed with their overhead. She’d been gulping down the tray of teeny-tiny appetizers like she hadn’t eaten in days. Judging by her emaciated frame, she was probably going to purge in the bathroom later in the evening. After his not-too-tactful comment, they’d snubbed him, inst
ead of being genuinely interested in his comments.

  Well, screw them. He wasn’t donating anyway. There were charities more worthy in his estimation.

  He sucked in social situations and didn’t give a shit, especially highbrow ones like this. His old team never made him attend anything more than a bowling tournament, but the Steelheads insisted their defensive captain go to all this fake crap.

  Zach ran his fingers through his unruly hair and almost wished he’d gotten it cut. Too long and curly to be tamed with hair gel and too short for a ponytail, it kept getting in his eyes. He tugged on his bow tie, rebelling against how constricting it was. He’d been here less than thirty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

  Looking for some friendly faces, he walked up to a couple of his defensive guys and joined their conversation. “Hey, guys, did you see our jackass quarterback anywhere? I thought I’d arm-wrestle him for a dance with his hot little girlfriend.”

  They stared at him sort of funny. He wiped his mouth, wondering if he had crumbs on his face or something. One of the guys jerked his head to indicate someone was behind him.

  On cue Tyler Harris, the Seattle Steelheads’ quarterback and Zach’s personal enemy number one, stepped into their circle with his cute, curvy girlfriend, Lavender, beside him. Zach liked Lavender. She was sweet and sassy all rolled into one. Even better, she could put the asshole quarterback in his place with one damning look. Harris might be an uncontrollable bad boy in most circumstances, but Lavender led him around by a ring in his dick, which amused Zach to no end.

  Zach grinned at her, and she hugged him, then straightened his bow tie. Harris snaked his arm possessively around her waist and tucked her close to his side. His glare cut right through the bullshit. He hated the linebacker as much as Zach hated him. The jerk’s gaze swept downward as if he were assessing and cataloging Zach’s every social blunder. What Tyler didn’t understand was Zach dressed this way on purpose. Clothes didn’t matter to him.

  Tyler’s gaze fixed on Zach’s black cowboy boots. Harris smirked and raised one eyebrow. “Cowboy boots at a black-tie affair?”

  “Sounds like the words to a country song,” Bruiser, their surfer-boy running back, quipped. Like he’d ever listened to a country song in his life.

  “Hey, I’m from Texas, and I like them.” Zach shoved his hands in his pockets before he did damage to the quarterback’s pretty face. He liked his boots. The broken-in Justins hugged his big feet like a comfortable pair of old slippers. Best of all, the extra two inches made him an inch taller than the Steelheads’ six-foot-four quarterback.

  “Yeah, right. But—”

  Lavender stomped on Harris’s foot before he could launch a new insult at the hated defensive player. She cast a sympathetic look in Zach’s direction and dragged her stubborn-assed boyfriend to his seat.

  Zach barely tolerated quarterbacks as necessary evils, prima donna jerks every one of them, and he had zero fucking tolerance for Harris.

  As a middle linebacker, Zach made his living analyzing quarterbacks, studying their body language, watching their eyes, then telegraphing his findings to his defensive teammates. Last year when his old team played the Steelheads, he’d looked across the line of scrimmage into Harris’s eyes and seen…nothing. Nothing but a big, fat zero, almost as if the QB had put his body on autopilot and mentally hung out a closed sign.

  Zach had lived and breathed football from the day he took his first baby step. Football was an all-in game. Either you were all in or you’d best get the hell all out. He couldn’t fathom a football player who didn’t love the game with every cell in his body, who didn’t leave every ounce of try he had out on the field. But Harris hadn’t been all in. Last year, he’d fucking quit on his team, missed practices, put in minimum effort, and only physically shown up for games.

  The team had won their second consecutive Super Bowl in spite of Harris. Not that Zach had been in the locker room or on the field. He’d signed with the Seattle Steelheads in the off-season a few months after that second Super Bowl. But guys talked, and he’d been in the league long enough to see all the signs, even if he was observing from across the line of scrimmage or via a flat-screen TV.

  A Super Bowl?

  How could a guy not leave his blood and guts out on the field during the game of all games? Harris’s don’t-give-a-shit attitude baffled Zach and put the two team captains at odds with each other throughout training camp. Zach had no respect for quitters. If he had his way, the Steelheads would start a different quarterback on the first day of the regular season.

  Zach ground his teeth together until his head hurt just thinking about having one Super Bowl ring, let alone a pair. He’d give both his nuts for a ring. Team loyalty had gotten him nowhere. For twelve years, he’d played his heart out on the worst team in the NFL, given them his best, and never complained. The team didn’t make it past one wild-card win in the first round of the playoffs. During the off-season, his old team dropped him faster than a rabid coyote. Then the Seattle Steelheads came calling, needing a guy to bolster their defense and tutor their young players. He’d jumped at the chance.

  This year would be different. He’d taken a hefty pay cut to sign a one-year contract with this team just for a chance to win a ring in what might well be his last year. For a linebacker who played as hard as he did, thirty-four bordered on ancient. Or so his body told him.

  Reluctantly, Zach took his seat across from Harris. Thank God Lavender sat to Zach’s right because Zach adored her. She shot him a friendly smile. Knowing it would piss Tyler off, he grinned back. “Lavender, you look stunning. When are you going to dump this asshole and get yourself a real man?”

  Lavender laughed and patted his arm. “You silver-tongued devil. Thank you. You cut a dashing figure yourself.”

  “Fuck you, Miller,” Harris snarled at Zach. His hands were fisted on the table, and he looked ready for a fight.

  A few of the guys around the table watched the action between the two team captains like bystanders around crime-scene tape. Hoss Price, their three-hundred-pound center, snorted so hard Zach expected his wine to come out of his nose.

  “I didn’t know Walmart sold tuxes. Must be a new line or something.” Tyler shot another salvo across the table.

  “I prefer to spend my money on meaningful things. I don’t give a shit about clothes.” He’d bought the tux at a bargain price at a decent menswear store for his cousin’s wedding a few years ago. It seemed perfectly functional to him. Sure, it was a little small in places, the pants a little short, and it had a few wrinkles, but he couldn’t care less. Off-the-rack clothes never fit him right. He was used to it. He’d be damned if he’d spend five figures on a custom suit with some dumb-ass designer’s name on the label like Harris did just to impress a bunch of people he didn’t want to impress.

  “Zach looks fine.” Lavender smiled with the sweetness of a lioness. Tyler yelped. She must have kicked him under the table just for good measure. Zach needed to find a woman like her.

  Tyler’s scowl grew deeper, but he shifted the conversation to Sunday’s first regular-season game.

  Zach stared at the ridiculous array of eating utensils, plates, and glasses. Nobody needed this much stuff just to eat dinner. This fancy crap reminded him of how much his lowly upbringing still shaped his present.

  As the waiter placed the first of many courses in front of Zach, he glanced up to find Harris eyeing him like an enemy probing for weaknesses. Ignoring the asshole, Zach grasped an oyster in his big hand and tried to dig it out of the shell. The damn thing popped out and flew across the table. It hit Derek’s jacket and slid downward, leaving a slimy trail. Harris snickered, but no one else said a word.

  “Sorry about that,” Zach muttered.

  “Hey, man, no big deal.” Derek, who also had the misfortune of being Harris’s cousin, smiled sympathetically at Zach, while Rachel wiped off his lapel.

  Zach pushed the plate away. He’d be damned if he’d try to eat another. Ne
ver liked the fucking things anyway.

  Zach concentrated on a spot across the room, faking interest in the crappy painting hanging on the wall, the one simply titled The Cat. The kindergarten class from his hometown of Cactus Prairie, Texas, painted better pictures. At least a cat looked like a cat, not an alien spaceship spraying people with spaghetti sauce.

  Then he saw her.

  Zach’s day went from calamity to catastrophe. His entire body erupted in pain as if he’d dropped a two-hundred-pound barbell on his chest. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t muster a coherent thought, couldn’t drag his eyes off her, couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  Burning, raw anger shot through him and overrode the hurt. Hatred consumed him, a hatred so powerful he gripped the table to stop himself from doing something stupid or, even worse, criminal.

  The woman of his nightmares.

  Kelsie Carrington glided across the room straight toward him. His Cactus Prairie High School nemesis here? In Seattle? What the fuck? Wasn’t halfway across the country far enough to escape her and those painful memories? He blinked several times, but there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with his vision. His one-date disaster balanced on a pair of heels so high the altitude should require an oxygen mask. Her blond hair shone as brightly as the gold in a coveted Super Bowl ring. Each graceful step of those long legs carried her closer to him.

  He hated her. Hated every cell in her body. Hated who and what she was.

  He steeled himself, biting back all the angry words he’d been holding in for years, and prayed she didn’t recognize him. Just like old times, Kelsie looked right through him. Her patent beauty-queen smile was plastered across her perfectly made-up face. Damn, seeing her transported him back to being an awkward teenage boy who only fit in on the football field. Her fake smile reminded him how stupid he’d been to fall for her particular brand of poison. Her perfect face dredged up a shitload of painful emotions and a nightmarish night in which she played a part. She was pure evil wrapped in a pretty package, one he’d been stupid enough to open and be exposed to the pure ugliness inside.