Pump Fake (The New York Nighthawks #9) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
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I took it from him with a smile that widened when I turned it around to look at the back and saw his name. “Thanks. I probably should’ve thought to ask you in the first place.”

“No, baby.” He lowered his head to brush his lips against mine before he lifted my borrowed jersey over my head to replace it with his. “I like that you put thought into what to wear to the first game you’ll watch me in. It’s sweet as fuck, just like you.”

My heart melted at his compliment. “Aw, thank you.”

“My pleasure, baby.” He smoothed the material down and smiled. “There, now you look perfect.”

No way was that true when the jersey he’d put on me was probably three sizes too big, but there was no missing the sincerity in his blue eyes. Brady liked seeing me wear his number and name.

“We’d better get going so you’re not late for your big game.”

He had explained last night that he was required to be at the stadium by eleven but wanted to arrive early since he was starting today. Kickoff wasn’t until one, but I was going to hang out with some of the wives and girlfriends until then since most of them came early with the players.

I was nervous about fitting in with them, but I didn’t want to worry Brady when he needed to focus on playing well so he could impress the coaches. So I just gave him a big kiss—making a show of it in my role of his fake-but-wanted-to-be-real girlfriend since I could feel lots of eyes on us—and shooed him away when someone from security offered to escort me up to the suite the team’s owner reserved for players’ families.

I paused in the doorway to take in the space filled with people, mostly women and kids. A full buffet was spread out on a low table against the wall to my left, and a bar sat to the right. Directly ahead were floor-to-ceiling windows with a sliding glass door that led to a few rows of seats on a balcony. I had no idea attending a football game could be this luxurious, but I supposed it made sense when you factored in that many of these women were married to men who made millions each year, and a billionaire owned the suite.

My nerves settled some after I stepped inside, and Dakota spotted me. “Hey, Talia! I was hoping you’d be here.”

She hadn’t been in the office for the past two days, so I hadn’t seen her since I left The End Zone with Brady. When I asked him if she was okay, he told me that she’d started her maternity leave even though she hadn’t had the baby yet. Looking at how she was cradling her round belly as she waddled over to me, I hoped for her sake that she didn’t go too far past her due date.

“I was selfishly looking forward to seeing you, too.” I patted her stomach. “When I probably should’ve wished for you to give birth instead.”

She winked at me. “You never know. It could still happen today.”

My head jerked back, and my eyes widened. “Umm…be careful throwing ideas like that around.”

“Yeah, it would be better if I didn’t go into labor in the middle of the game. Ames would be angry if I didn’t find a way to let him know right away, and then I’d end up interrupting the game.”

“Let’s find you a comfortable seat then so we don’t risk it,” I suggested, leading her over to one of the seats on the balcony. Several other wives introduced themselves to me, but their names were all a blur since there were so many people. Dakota and Cleo—the punter’s wife—tried explaining the game to me when it started.

Surrounded by women madly in love with their husbands, I felt like a horrible fake by halftime. Everyone was being so nice to me, and all I’d done was lie to them about anything concerning my relationship with Brady. Leaning toward Dakota, I whispered, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She turned to look at me, and her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. “Yeah, just headed to the restroom.”

“Oh, I’ll go with you.”

I was going there to give myself a moment alone, but I couldn’t tell my heavily pregnant friend that she couldn’t come too. Instead, I helped her out of her seat and followed her to the private restroom in the far corner of the suite.

She flipped the lock when the door shut behind us and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Umm…” I hadn’t planned to share our secret with anyone, but I couldn’t resist spilling my guts. “I feel like such a fraud. Brady and I haven’t been dating for six months like we said at dinner on Wednesday. We only met that night when he saved me from a creep at the bar.”


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