LuckyBastard: A Cocky Hero World Novel

his chest over his heart as if he’s wounded. “Come on now, don’t be like that,” he tosses out with a grin. I give him a look that tells him I’m not buying what he’s selling. He throws his head back in laughter and stumbles back a step, bumping into a teammate.
“What’s up, Bourgeois?” the very tall, very sexy number eighteen asks.
“This one.” He points at me.
I feel my body heat as number eighteen rakes his eyes over me. Slowly, they catalog every inch of me. Finally, his eyes scan back to my chest and freeze there. “We need to do something about that.” He nods to my chest.
It’s a good thing I’m a solid C cup or I’d be offended they were talking about my actual chest size. However, I know it’s the Miami Mavericks logo that sprawls across my chest that’s offending them. “Eyes up here.”
He smirks. “You’d look good in a number eighteen Trojans jersey. I can help you out of that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I can help you out with that. A Trojans jersey.” He points to my chest.
“Bless your heart,” I say, making my voice sugary sweet. “I’m sorry, but I’m a Mavs girl.” I shrug, not taking my eyes off his. His eyes, they’re the deepest cerulean blue. You know those tropical vacation videos you see on social media, the ones that promise relaxation and free drinks? His eyes look like the water in those videos. Vibrant blue.
“Oh no, no, no, this won’t do,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, planting his feet on the turf.
His arms are thick and toned with muscle, and he has those veins… you know the sexy veins in a man’s arms? The ones that tell you that he works hard at what he does, whether it’s his job or in the gym? In this case, I’m sure it’s both. I mean, he plays for the professional football league. He didn’t get here on pure luck. I allow myself to indulge and take in this beautiful man before me.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
Thomas mutters, “Lucky bastard,” at the same time.
“Actually, I was just sizing you up. Comparing you to number eight on the Mavs. You do know who A.J. Holland is, right?”
“Pfft,” he scoffs. “I know A.J., but I promise you, sweetheart, I can make you feel better than him.”
“What?” I stand a little taller. I should be offended, but if I'm honest with myself, I’m a little turned on.
“I said, I’m better than him.” He grins.
I don’t know if my mind and body are playing tricks on me, but damn, if this isn’t the second time in a matter of minutes I’ve taken his words as a sexual innuendo. I need to squash this shit.
“Oh, that’s cute. I’m sure one day you might get to his level,” I fire back. There, back on a level playing field. However, the grin that tilts his lips, and the dimple that peeks out from under his beard tells me my words don’t affect him. Damn it.
He turns to look at Thomas. “She yours, Bourgeois?”
“Mine actually,” Chance speaks up. “Landon, this is my son CJ, my wife, Aubrey, and her best friend, Emma. They’re mine,” Chance announces with no room for discussion.
Once again, I’m reminded how lucky my best friend is—to have a man like Chance to navigate life with. He loves her and their son unconditionally. And because Aubrey is my best friend, I get grouped with them. He’s a good man, regardless of his cockiness at times.
Landon Barker raises his hands in the air, his number eighteen practice jersey rising to show the V where his gym shorts hang low. He might be a cocky bastard, but if he kept his mouth shut, he’d definitely be one to keep around to look at. Damn, I can’t imagine the countless number of hours he has to spend in the gym and on the field to be ripped like that.
As if he can read my mind, he rips his practice jersey, and the compression shirt he had on underneath, over his head and wipes down his face. I tune out the conversation around me as I take him in. My eyes roam over his muscular chest as I work my way down to his abs. I count silently in my head. Eight. I lick my lips as I imagine what it would be like to run my hands over them, maybe trace them with my tongue.
“Hey.” Aubrey bumps her shoulder into mine, pulling me out of my fog where it was just me and number eighteen’s abs.
“Sorry.” I turn to face her.
“The food’s set up. We’re going to head over and eat.” She points over my shoulder where, sure enough, the catering staff has brought an array of picnic type foods to several tables on the field.
“Definitely.” My eyes dance back to Landon, where I find him watching me. “I’m suddenly starving.” I lick my lips for emphasis before turning back to Aubrey. “Let me take CJ while you and Chance make your plates, then I’ll make mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I reach my arms toward Chance to take CJ from him, and he practically jumps into my arms, laughing when I snuggle him close, then settle him on my hip. Having CJ in my arms will keep Landon at bay. At least, that’s the hope. Not that I wouldn’t have offered all the same, but it’s an added bonus he’s now our buffer.
Chance and Aubrey walk toward the tables, and I stare after them. “Did you have fun today?” I ask CJ.
“Daddy.” He points to where Chance and Aubrey are filling their plates.
“Look.” I point up to the jumbotron that has Chance’s smiling mug on display, trying to distract him. He’s daddy’s boy through and through. Slowly, each member of the coaching staff gets their turn before it moves on to the players. Of course, the first player would be their starting quarterback, Landon Barker. His dark hair, those ocean