The Perfect Catch (Last Play Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion) Book 9) Read online

  The Perfect Catch

  Jennifer Youngblood

  Contents

  Introduction by Taylor Hart

  Your Free Book Awaits

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Get Your Free Book

  Excerpt of Hail Mary by Taylor Hart

  Excerpt of How to See With Your Heart by Jennifer Youngblood

  Also By Jennifer Youngblood

  About Jennifer Youngblood

  Introduction by Taylor Hart

  Greetings fabulous readers (yes, that means you)-

  When Jennifer Youngblood asked if she could write a book for my Last Play Romance Series, I happily agreed. I adore Jennifer Youngblood! Seriously, she’s one of those women who, like me, are a bit obsessed and compulsive about writing … and who, like me, use chocolate as a crutch when their first draft isn’t completely worked out! We were meant to be friends for just this reason alone!

  Jennifer’s family has a long-standing history with football, so I knew she’d be a great fit for this series! Not only is Jennifer an amazing writer but a lovely person! And it comes through in her characters, her plot development, and especially in her settings! I loved the charm of Clementine, Alabama with the small-town flavor, mouth-water food, and witty banter.

  Don’t plan on doing anything else today … because you won’t be able to put this one down!

  Hugs-

  Taylor Hart

  Best-selling author of End Zone: Last Play Romance Series

  Check out Taylor’s Amazon page HERE!

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  Prologue

  Rigby’s pulse picked up a notch as he glanced over his shoulder and hurried down the hall toward the exit. Thankfully, the coast was clear. It had been a grueling practice, and he’d had to force himself to get through it. Even his offensive coordinator noticed he was off his game and pulled him aside asking if everything was okay. Not good in a world where every practice was a performance. Every day, scouters brought in new recruits to try out for the team, sending a clear message—outshine the competition or go home. Normally, Rigby was at the top of the quarterback pack. Last year, he ranked number one in the league for passing yards and number three for touchdown passes. But this season, he was having a hard time getting all his pistons firing. In the world of professional football, a player was only as good as his next game. He had to keep performing at a super human level to stay at the top of his game.

  He let out a deep sigh. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. Most of his angst came from the fact that he’d gotten very little sleep the night before. He’d gone out to dinner with a few of his buddies on the team, and ran into his ex-wife Sadonna. Not only was she completely soused, her dress was so skimpy it would’ve been hard-pressed to cover a twelve-year-old, much less a grown woman. And the worst part—she was hanging all over Miles Devlin, a sports journalist with a cutthroat reputation, who’d had it in for Rigby since the start of his career. Devlin was notorious for forcing interviews with players, then twisting their words with a negative spin. So far, Rigby had managed to avoid Devlin this season, but that couldn’t go on forever.

  A shiver ran through him. Now that the sweat had dried, he felt clammy. Normally, he showered in the locker room immediately following practice, but didn’t want to risk being cornered by a reporter. He couldn’t wait to get home and take a long, hot shower and settle in for the evening to watch TV. He was almost to the exit door when the booming voice from behind stopped him cold.

  “Rocket, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He’d been so close to making it out before anyone caught him. A part of him was tempted to ignore the voice and keep going.

  “Rocket,” the man said again, this time in a more commanding tone.

  He turned, plastering on a friendly smile as his heart dropped. They’d sent the director of personnel after him. Crap! “Hey, Scott,” he said casually. “Just headed out.”

  “Yeah … about that. You can’t keep avoiding the reporters forever. There have been complaints.”

  The fury that raced through him caught him by surprise as his eyes narrowed. “From whom?” he muttered, even though he was sure he already knew the culprit. Miles Devlin was starting to push his buttons.

  Scott let out a nervous chuckle, holding up his hands. “That doesn’t matter. The point is interview sessions are mandatory … part of your job. You know the drill. It goes with the territory.”

  While Rigby had never much cared for the required forty-five minute interview sessions at the end of every practice, he didn’t start loathing them until after the incident with Sadonna and his teammate. Now, reporters constantly circled him like wolves trying to cut their teeth on fresh meat. “Yeah, I’ve got to rush out to an appointment today, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Scott gave him a sympathetic smile, but his voice was firm. “There’s no getting out of this, Rocket.”

  “Cut me some slack. It’s been a rough day.” Rigby tightened his grip on the duffel bag that suddenly felt heavy.

  “You’ll have to do the interviews sooner or later. You don’t need any more negative publicity, or a fine. Come on, man. You’ve got this.”

  They stood there, eyeing one another. As much as Rigby hated to admit it, Scott was right. He couldn’t run from the reporters forever, and he didn’t want a $10K dollar fine or more legal problems. He blew out a long breath. “Okay.”

  Scott looked relieved as he stepped up and patted Rigby’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll be right by your side. I’ve got your back.”

  Sure you do was Rigby’s first thought. Scott was a decent guy, but his primary loyalty was to the team. And while that irked Rigby, he really couldn’t blame the guy. His job depended on keeping the team owner and GM happy. Rigby straightened his shoulders, taking in a deep breath before stepping through the door of the locker room.

  The second-string kicker slapped Rigby’s hand as he walked by. “Hey, Rocket, how ya’ doing, man?”

  He nodded and spoke to a few other players as Scott maneuvered him to a sitting area where a reporter was waiting. Rigby drew in a hard breath. “Miles Devlin? Really?”

  Scott flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man, this came from the top. But like I said, I’ll be right beside you.”

  Rigby’s jaw clenched. “Well, that makes me feel so much better about things,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s get this over with.” He slumped down in a nearby chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Scott sat down adjacent to Rigby on the sofa.

  Devlin shifted in his seat, a malevolent glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

  The hair on Rigby’s neck bristled. He detested this guy with his pretty-boy sneer and hipster clothes that made him look like a teenager wanna-be. Devlin had gotten great pleasure out of parad
ing Sadonna in front of him the night before. Rigby had to laugh to keep from crying. He’d met Sadonna at a dinner party hosted by a mutual friend. Rigby was on the rebound, and Sadonna was this bright shining star who pulled him into her glitzy world of endless parties and spontaneous trips to trendy vacation spots around the world. He’d been a fool to be taken in by her, believing the two of them could settle down and start a family.

  Devlin tipped his head, his voice musing. “You seemed stiff in last week’s game. What do you attribute that to?”

  Rigby just sat there, glaring at Devlin until Scott put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Rigby responded icily.

  “Two incomplete passes. A fumble. Not the topnotch performance we’ve come to expect from the great Rocket Breeland.”

  This guy really was a weasel, hiding behind the protection of the media while he went around baiting the players. “Everyone has an off day.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” Devlin shook his head, a solemn expression. “But I can’t help but wonder if your lackluster performance stems from something deeper, things going on in your personal life, perhaps?”

  “Such as?” he fired back, raising his voice.

  Triumph glittered in Devlin’s eyes. “Such as the fact that your divorce from Sadonna Roberts was finalized last Friday.”

  Rigby and Sadonna had been separated for over a year, but their lawyers had been duking it out. Blood rushed to Rigby’s temples. He wanted to punch something. No, not something. He wanted to punch the pretty boy’s lights out. Scott leaned forward in his seat, his face tightening. He touched Rigby’s arm to keep the peace.

  “My personal life’s my business,” Rigby muttered.

  Devlin chuckled. “Yeah, unfortunately it doesn’t work that way for celebrities. Your last two seasons playing for the Tampa Bay Titans have been unprecedented. Last season, you set several records, and the Titans had a whopping thirteen wins. And while your first two games of this season were the caliber we’ve come to expect from The Rocket, you seem to be declining, and the scoreboard showed it with two back-to-back losses. Are the losses a fluke or something the fans need to be concerned about, indicative of some inner turmoil going on?”

  The words came at Rigby in a roar, and then he realized they were waiting for him to answer. Scott offered a nod of encouragement. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. It’s the nature of the game,” he spat through thinned lips.

  “And when you’re on top, there’s only one direction to go, huh, Rocket?” Devlin said so softly that for a second, Rigby wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.

  Scott frowned, suspicion forming in his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘Indeed, it’s the nature of the game,’” Devlin said quickly, an innocent smile on his face.

  Scott shook his head in disgust. “You have five minutes, then this interview will be over.”

  Devlin nodded, turning his attention back to Rigby. “So, are you and Sadonna Roberts through? She’s been spotted at several local nightclubs recently, partying until the early hours of the morning. Sources say the two of you bumped into each other last night at The Rave Restaurant. Can you expound on what that was like, seeing Sadonna on the arm of another man?”

  “Sadonna and I were through a year ago.”

  Devlin slurped out a derisive chuckle. “Yeah, you say that, but the last time you caught Sadonna with another man, he ended up in the hospital.”

  Rigby’s entire body tensed to the point of aching. “That was different. We were married then.” The incident Devlin referred to took place a mere two weeks after their wedding when Rigby came home to find Sadonna with one of his fellow team members. It was a harrowing experience he never wanted to relive. Unfortunately, the events were seared into his mind. Rage that plowed through him like a freight train as all self-control flew out the window. Then there were the legal consequences of all that followed, consequences his attorneys were still sifting through. Rigby clenched his fists so tightly his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. “I don’t keep tabs on Sadonna, or the scum she keeps company with.” Rigby felt a momentary twinge of satisfaction when Devlin flinched like he’d been slapped. Then Rigby saw the warning look on Scott’s face. The poor man was probably compiling a list of the various ways the statement could be twisted to slander the team. Scott insisted that Rigby go through with the interview. And now he had. A hot anger scorched through Rigby’s veins as he leveled a glare at Devlin. Where Rigby came from there’d be the devil to pay if a man goaded another like this. Devlin might as well have spit in his face and ground it in the dirt.

  Scott’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out with a sigh. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s the GM,” he explained.

  Devlin leaned forward, lowering his voice. “How does it feel? Not being able to hold onto your woman? I held onto her last night, and it wasn’t that hard.”

  Rigby swore under his breath as his eyes narrowed. “How dare you!” He’d pummeled men for less. When Rigby married Sadonna she was still pretending to be a reputable person. Now she was letting her true colors show.

  Devlin chuckled, making a rude gesture with his hands. “Off the record. She’s just as good as everyone says. Maybe even better.”

  Something in Rigby snapped as black streaks zigzagged through his head, crowding out all reason. Before he realized it, he was on his feet. He saw the blip of fear that crossed Devlin’s cowardly eyes the instant before he punched him in the jaw, heard the sickening crack of bone.

  Chaos broke out as the players in the locker room rushed to pull Rigby off Devlin.

  1

  Rigby gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove past the welcome sign of the sleepy coastal town of Clementine, Alabama. The groups of yellow and purple mums and neatly trimmed trees in the landscaping were a new addition, giving the entrance a quaint, stately feel. He vaguely remembered his grandmother mentioning the town council creating initiatives to revitalize the historical district to give it a similar feel to picturesque Fairhope, Alabama. Once Rigby got past the sign, everything else looked the same as he remembered. Rigby wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He looked at the Dixie Freeze drive-in and the lit sign shaped like an enormous vanilla ice cream cone. It had been there ever since Rigby could remember. High school kids were leaning against their cars, blasting their music, trying to prove how cool they were. Rigby had done the same. It was in the front seat of his Mustang after a football game that he’d asked Scarlett Foster to go steady with him. He’d been floating so high, he could’ve sworn his feet hadn’t touched the ground for two solid weeks afterward. Not only was he going steady with the girl of his dreams, but he’d thrown the pass that won Clementine the state championship. Rigby and Scarlett were the golden couple—the quarterback and the homecoming queen. Everything had been so exciting, a whole world of possibilities unfolding for the two of them. Rigby had wanted to venture out, conquer the world. And from a worldly perspective, he’d done just that. After three years of college at Gulf Coast University, he was picked up by the Tampa Bay Titans in the fourth round of the draft. Being a middle-of-the-road pick gave Rigby the unique opportunity to climb the ranks without having the intense pressure of the first and second round draft picks. In the opening game of the season, the starting quarterback was injured. Rigby stepped into the spot and started making a name for himself. Everything seemed to be working in his favor then. He led the Titans to the Championship Game his first year and was still riding high the second year when he met Sadonna and was taken in by her stunningly beautiful looks and glamorous life. Then everything fell apart. Rigby’s thoughts went back to the Dixie Freeze and Scarlett. She’d been his first love—his only real love, if he was completely honest with himself. If she’d gone with him to Tampa like he wanted, they’d probably be married by now, have a couple of kids. A pang shot through him as the old familiar hurt settled over him like a dull toothache that never full
y went away.

  He drove past the local bank and dry cleaners. The town square was an offshoot of the main drag, making up the heart of town with its charming shops and a pavilion in the center of the green space. He caught a glimpse of the top of the courthouse. The Magnolia, Scarlett’s restaurant was just across the street. Rigby wondered if she was there today. He briefly thought about dropping in to say hello, but decided against it. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him coming by unannounced, considering they’d not kept in touch. And he had no idea what to say to her. They hadn’t ended on the best of terms. No, it was better to lay low. That was the point of this whole visit.

  His phone buzzed. The caller’s name displayed across the radio. He clicked the button on his steering wheel to answer it through the Bluetooth. “Hey, Monroe.”

  “Rigby, man, how ya’ holding up?”

  “All right … considering.” That wasn’t exactly true. After he’d punched Devlin, things spiraled downward fast, and he was still reeling from the backlash. About the only good thing Rigby had going for him at this point was Monroe, a black guy from Seattle, Washington. Monroe Williams was one of the most highly sought-after agents in the country and a close friend.

  “I hope you took my advice, man, and went somewhere off the grid.”

  “Yep, you could say that.” Clementine was only seven and a half hours away from Tampa, but it might as well have been a different world. He’d cool his heels and lick his wounds. Plus, it would be good to spend some time with his grandmother. While he made a point of calling her every Sunday, he felt guilty for not visiting more often. Rigby entered his old neighborhood in the historic section of town. It felt so quiet and still compared to the hustle and bustle of Tampa. He’d forgotten how quaint this section of town was with the antebellum homes and stately live oaks lining the streets like something out of a movie—small town America at its best.