Fake Out_A SECOND CHANCE PRETEND GIRLFRIEND ROMANCE Read online

  Fake-Out

  A Second Chance Pretend Girlfriend Romance

  Rebecca Janet

  © Copyright 2018 by Rebecca Janet - All rights reserved.

  * * *

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  WARNING: This eBook contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This eBook is for sale to adults ONLY.

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  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Blurb

  I had my best years and my biggest mistakes with Camden Birch, and now he tells me he wants to do it all over again.

  * * *

  Only this time it’s not going to be for real. We’ll just pretend until we both get what we need.

  * * *

  Thank God!

  * * *

  I don’t think anyone could survive being loved by a guy like Camden twice in their life.

  * * *

  Seeing him just reminds me of how badly he ended things.

  * * *

  Hearing his voice though, feeling that strong hand on the small of my back, is starting to remind me what the best years of my life were like.

  * * *

  It’s starting to make me believe that the best years for us maybe haven’t even started yet.

  Chapter 1

  Valerie

  “I can’t believe they’re up by 28. It’s complete bullshit if you ask me.”

  “Tell me about it. Those refs don’t have a clue what they’re doing. They’re out there running around like a bunch of headless chickens.”

  “No, I’ll tell you what they’re doing—they’re working for the other team. Three fouls? Are you kidding me? That last call was complete shit and they know it.”

  Two women walked into the bathroom, caught up in their conversation. I listened as I leaned into the mirror, applying some eyeliner. My reflection was not something I liked all that much, especially with the bags under my eyes. Why hadn’t I gone to bed at a reasonable time last night?

  I shook my head, mentally chastising myself as I rubbed in some concealer, trying to salvage my appearance.

  “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,” I spoke directly into my reflection—posture straight, breathing steady. “Unique New York.” Even while I pat blush onto my cheeks, I watched the movement of my lips as I practiced my vocal warm-ups.

  Creak!

  Behind me, from one of the sitting stalls, the redhead woman who held the conspiracy theory against the referees, walked out and started washing her hands. She wore a football jersey with the number 17 on the back. “Camden Birch fan?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

  “You best believe it.” She shook the excess water from her hands before grabbing some paper towels. “I know what everyone’s saying but I just don’t accept it. He’s just having a rough year. He’ll bounce back. Believe me.”

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Hey! Wait, aren’t you that sports reporter from the local news?”

  “Yeah, I thought she was!” Her friend exclaimed. “What’s your name, again?”

  “Valerie Taylor.”

  “That’s right. That’s right.” The redhead clapped her hands in recognition. “Boy, you must feel like a fish out of water here.”

  I shrugged. “This might be Baltimore Stadium but New York’s still going to win.”

  “Ha! In your dreams. Baltimore has this in the bag. Trust me. We have home field advantage.”

  “Our lineup is much better. We have the best running back in the league, not to mention Rudy Thompson has an 87 percent pass completion rate. You couldn’t beat that.”

  “Just watch us.” The woman boasted. “Just watch us.”

  “Well, then, I wish you the best of luck.”

  “We don’t need luck,” the friend chimed in with a grin on her face.

  “Hey, do you mind if I take a picture with you? I mean, after all, you did date Camden Birch, right?”

  I hesitated. That was a long, long time ago and for the most part, I didn’t like to broadcast my connection with the quarterback, especially now that his career was going downhill. Plus, there was no need to stir up all the memories I’d been trying to forget during the years.

  “Please?”

  “Sure.” I finally gave in.

  “Great. Cassie, be a dear.” She handed her phone over to her friend before posing alongside me.

  Shit.

  I never finished applying my makeup.

  Flash!

  Well, too late now.

  “Perfect! Thanks so much!”

  “No problem.”

  I turned and grabbed some powder from my makeup bag hoping the two women would take the hint that I wanted to be left alone.

  “So, what was he like?”

  “Who?”

  “Camden.”

  I bit the inside of my lip, remembering the handsome face of my ex-boyfriend. Back then, he was ‘Cam.’ My Cam. Not anymore. That crashed and burned almost as soon as it began.

  “What was it like dating someone like him?”

  “I’m sorry but I really should finish up here,” I said, trying to get her to leave me alone.

  “Oh, come on, just tell me something.”

  “There’s not really much to tell. He was a normal guy just like anyone else,” I said trying to brush off the whole thing. “No big deal, really.”

  “No big deal?” Her eyes widened. “He’s in the NFL.”

  “A lot of men are in the NFL.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like dating some regular guy. He’s a football player. An extremely attractive one to boot. I bet the sex was amazing.”

  “Wanda!” Her friend exclaimed, hitting her arm. “You can’t go around saying things like that.”

  “What? It’s true! Have you seen that guy’s build? Hell, I’d drop my husband in a second to spend one night with that man.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest doing that,” I said, voice growing numb. My heart burned with jealousy. I hated listening to this woman fawning over my ex-boyfriend. All she cared about was his washboard abs, but he was so much more than that.

  My mind reeled back, recalling a memory from when we were both still in college.

  I stood in the bleachers, hanging on tightly to the railing in front of me. The audience was ten
se with excitement. Sounds buzzed into the background as I watched Cam pull back his arm, aiming his shot. And then, the football went flying through the air. Time was to stop.

  The crowd held its breath.

  “Touchdown!” The commentator roared the second the wide receiver reached the end zone. “And for the second year in a row, Camden Birch wins the play offs for his team! Incredible!”

  Behind me, the crowd went wild as college students screamed out their school’s victory. All I could do was, watch Cam. My Cam.

  “Hey, are you okay?” The woman, Wanda, asked.

  I blinked, snapping out of the flashback. “Yeah, sorry, it’s been a long day.”

  “Come on, we should probably stop bothering her,” the friend suggested, grabbing Wanda by the elbow and towing her out of the bathroom, much to my relief.

  Okay, time to get serious. I had a job to do.

  “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.”

  Chapter 2

  Camden

  “What the fuck is he doing out there?”

  “He’s losing it.”

  “They should have benched him a long time ago.”

  “Benched him? They should have gotten rid of him, altogether. Replaced him with some fresh blood. Look at New York. They drafted a college recruit and he has a fantastic pass-completion rate. Camden’s just flopping around. He’s done.”

  As I walked over to the sidelines, I listened to the spectators talking about me. They were screaming so they could be heard over the humdrum of the stadium.

  Their words stung. No, more than that. They’re like a goddamn knife to the heart. I’m letting my fans down and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.

  Fuck.

  This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. Nothing was going the way I wanted it to.

  On the sidelines, the rest of the team wasn’t talking to me. Even the water boy ignored me. He simply held up the Gatorade bottle, squirted the water into my mouth, and did not make eye contact.

  Great. Just fucking fantastic.

  The hair on my arms stood on edge. I could feel the coach hulking over. Even without turning around I could picture the redness of his face. He’s probably pissed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he strangled me right then and there.

  After all, the team’s down by 35 and it’s my fault. I kept fucking up. I hadn’t played well for ages and at this rate, I was soon going to be out of a career.

  “What the fuck were you doing out there?” The coach bellowed the second he was within earshot. “We’re getting fucking massacred.”

  “I know…” I started but he cut me off.

  “Then why the hell aren’t you doing something about it? I’m this fucking close to putting you on the bench if you don’t step it up. Do you hear me?” He spat as he leaned in, face nearly pressed against mine. His skin was bright red and a couple of veins were bulging from his neck.

  “I got it, Coach.”

  “And if you aren’t going to run the play that I told you to run then you better damn start finding some more of that “Camden magic.” I’m done with this shit. Our track record is running into the ground because of you,” he shouted, jabbing a finger into my chest. “Now, get out there and win me a game.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, walking out with the rest of the team. We lined up and I waited for the call, feeling numb.

  For months, I’d done nothing but screw up. But, not anymore. I wasn’t going to flush my career down the toilet like that.

  “Hike!”

  I caught the football, tightened my grip, and stepped back. For a fraction of a second, time was to stop. I scanned the field and saw that one of my team members was wide open. Quickly, I reeled back and let the ball fly from my fingertips.

  The crowd held its breath, following the ball with their eyes.

  “And touchdown! Incredible! We don’t know what Coach Barron said but it seems to have sparked some of that much needed Camden magic back into the quarterback. And the score stands at 35, New York; 6, Baltimore.”

  “With only a few seconds on the clock, will Baltimore be able to salvage the game and make the comeback they need?” The commentator said, trying to excite the crowd.

  I tuned him out and took a deep breath. This was it. If I fuck up now, that’s it. We lose and New York advances to the play offs. And, fuck that. I’m not going to let that happen. This year is the year I take my team to the Super Bowl. I’m going to prove them all wrong; there’s still some magic in these veins.

  We’re on the twenty-yard line. All I had to do was, make one more pass. That’s it. Easy.

  The ball felt heavy in my hand. Already, I could see heavy-set defenders charging in my direction. I had to make this quick. Very quick.

  The linebackers are seconds away from sacking me. With no other choice, I made my pass, praying to God that it makes it to one of my teammates.

  Crash!

  My head rattled in my helmet as I fell to the ground.

  “Touchdown! The Baltimore Jays have done it! What a comeback!” The crowd cheered. Fans screamed at the top of their lungs, chanting my name.

  A few teammates helped me to my feet. “Good job out there.”

  “I knew you could do it.”

  “Hell, man, you had me scared for a second, but I knew you’d pull through for us.”

  They all complimented me as the time was called. Game over. We won.

  I sauntered over to the sidelines where Coach Barron looked completely flabbergasted.

  “Think twice before you threaten me again,” I snarled.

  The coach stood there, not quite sure how to react.

  And without another word, I walked away, looking for the one girl I so desperately wanted to see.

  Naked, I stepped in front of the locker room mirror. By most accounts, I’m pretty attractive. I’m not trying to sound like an egotistical maniac but it’s true. After years of playing the game, my body was nothing but lean muscle. Add that to broad shoulders, a full chest, and a pretty streamlined physique and you got yourself a man that belongs on the cover of GQ. In fact, I’d made my appearance a few times, not to brag or anything.

  But, most of the time, when a girl flirts with me, I can tell she’s falling for my eyes. Baby blue. They go wild for that shit.

  I sighed. What’s the point? Sure, maybe I’m attractive but it won’t stay that way forever. This sport was taking its toll on me.

  How much longer did I have before I’m replaced by someone else?

  Chapter 3

  Valerie

  I stepped out of the bathroom and into a small hallway. The walls rumbled with the sounds of the stadium echoing through the small space. Something exciting must have happened.

  When I reached the atrium, the cameraman looked up and smiled. “Took you long enough in there. The game’s almost over.”

  “Sorry, my makeup took longer than expected.”

  “You looked good.” He nodded as he paid his compliment.

  I knew he was just being nice. Knowing my luck, my makeup probably looked like the work of a 4-year-old. I was tempted to grab my compact and check on it, but I suppressed the urge. We really didn’t have any time to waste. So, I followed the cameraman onto the field, hoping to snag an interview with Camden. I knew that he’d be looking for me because I’m always on hand when a team from New York goes up against the Baltimore Jays.

  You want to see him, too, the voice in the back of my head chimed in.

  Shut up. I do not. I tried to convince myself. And yet, as I searched the field, trying to find Cam, all I could think about was the way he used to make me feel when we were still young. Oh, the nights we spent together, they’re indescribable. To see that man naked…

  Just thinking about it made my body burn with lust. I could still picture his flawless physique from the broad shoulders down to his massive member. To think that he used to rock my world with that thing—stretching me to my limits—making me scream his name. What I wouldn’t do
to relive those nights of passion, our bodies grinding together, arms pinned above my head as I stare into those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

  Wait. What am I thinking?

  That’s never going to happen again.

  Never.

  “So, Camden threw the last touchdown of the game. They were down 35 in the last quarter. Could you imagine that? He’s something else, I tell you. Maybe he does have a bit of magic hiding up his sleeve,” the cameraman rambled on as we got into position.

  I scoffed. “Magic? It’s nothing more than luck.”

  “And skill.”

  “Sure.” I conceded. “He’s pretty talented but he’s nothing spectacular. There are better players. I don’t know why people keep putting him on a pedestal.”

  “Valerie.”

  “What?”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Just because he’s your ex-boyfriend that doesn’t mean he’s a bad player. You have to give it to him, he’s good.”

  I sighed. I knew he’s right. Camden was a born football player. He had one hell of an arm and somehow, he always managed to get himself out of a tight situation. When it counts, he always pulled through and won the game. I honestly didn’t know how he did it.