Awake At Dawn (Wildflower Series Book 2)

IT TOOK SOME effort to maneuver my arm out from under her, but after a minute of strategic finesse, I thankfully managed.

Doing it without waking her up was a different story, though. As soon as I sat up in bed, she mimicked me. Fuck, of course she did.

I rolled out of bed anyway. And big surprise—she moved to follow me. Flashing her a look, I dropped my voice. “Stay.”

My command seemed to do the trick. For a moment, anyway. And then she looked like she was about to do the exact opposite of it.

“Don’t you fucking dare move from that bed.”

Soft brown eyes blinked up at me as she settled onto the blankets again. I smiled, satisfied. Fuck, she was too cute for her own good.

“Good girl.”

Happy with her obedience, I turned on my heel. And that was when I heard the sound of puppy paws hitting the hardwood floor.

“Oh goddamnit,” I sighed. So much for obedience. When I peeked back over my shoulder, Winnie was sitting at my heels, her tail thumping on the floor excitedly. And there were those brown eyes again—those big, puppy dog eyes. “So much for staying in the fucking bed.”

Winnie continued to stare at me eagerly.

“Fine,” I groaned. “You can come with me to the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to come with you to the bathroom.” My friend’s deep laugh echoed into my ear from my wireless earphones, making me jump. I almost forgot Julian was still on the call, let alone that he was the reason I’d gotten up in the first place. Normally, nothing could drag me out of bed this early on an off-season Sunday. I supposed that made Jules special—not that I’d ever tell him that.

“You wanted me to check my calendar to see if that weekend was free, didn’t you?”

“Your calendar is in your bathroom?”Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

“Yes, my calendar is in my bathroom. It’s when I have the most time to schedule my life.”

“I think you need to adjust your diet if that’s the case, man.”

I ignored him, maneuvering through my apartment with Winnie on my heels. From the moment I brought her home a few weeks ago, she’d been attached to my goddamn ankles. I took a step; she took a step. I went to the kitchen; she went to the kitchen. I was afraid I’d trip over her tiny, wiggly body one of these days.

“Yeah, that weekend should work,” I said after flipping through the Minnesota State Fair wall calendar my mom had sent me to “remind me of home.” The only thing it did, though, was remind me of all the fried food I couldn’t eat. Despite Julian’s teasing, my diet was annoyingly healthy. Although…if cheese curds presented themselves, I sure as hell wouldn’t pass them up.

“Excellent.” Julian’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“What’s the plan? Vegas? Miami?”

Julian sighed, and I knew he was about to ruin all my fun party ideas. “I was thinking we’d just…I don’t know. Hit up the Bellflower.”

“It’s your bachelor party, Jules. Come on,” I groaned. “You go to that bar all the time. Now’s your chance to think outside of the box. Where’s the spirited college captain that I remember?”

Julian Briggs was the reason I was an NFL quarterback. He pushed our college team to new heights and helped shape me into the player I am today. And while he could have also easily gone pro, he’d made the wild decision to go to law school instead and now worked his ass off as an associate attorney at a law firm here in Boston.

“I told Grayson he could decide,” he said with another resigned, lawyer-y sigh.

“Oh sure, let the dad who doesn’t drink and will complain about missing his wife the entire time plan the bachelor party.”

“Well, he’s the best man.”

“Way to rub it in.” I rolled my eyes. Not that I cared. Grayson, another one of our college teammates, had a different sort of bond with Julian than I did. When he got married right out of college, Julian had been his best man. When his son was born shortly after, he’d asked Julian to be his godfather. And when he’d considered filing a medical malpractice lawsuit because the hospital missed his son’s congenital heart defect, he’d asked Julian to be his attorney.

I wasn’t the friend people counted on for things like that. I was the friend who made sure everyone laughed and had a good time. I got that.

Which was why I should at least be able to help plan the bachelor party.

“Remember when you took my fiancée on a date?” Julian drawled.

“I took her out for dinner as an apology. It wasn’t even a date,” I corrected, tossing my trusty calendar onto the counter and retreating from the bathroom, nearly tripping over Winnie. “Besides, she wasn’t your fiancée or even your girlfriend at the time, and I knew you’d finally fix that when your possessive panties got in a twist. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Julian’s dry chuckle told me he’d gotten over the stunt I’d pulled last year. “That’s why you’ll be standing with me on my wedding day, too, London.”

I nodded, knowing I should have felt happy to be included. But something still nagged at me.

Maybe it was just Winnie, who was attacking the bottom of my sweatpants, tugging on them with her tiny teeth. She didn’t let go, even as I stepped onto the rug in my living room, which was covered in dog toys and ripped cushions. I swore under my breath at the sight in front of me. Within the last two weeks, my luxury apartment had turned into a puppy playground.

“What?” Julian prompted.

“My little shadow is going to be the death of me,” I muttered.

“Well, you might need to work up to don’t you fucking dare move from that bed,” Julian quoted. “I would suggest starting at the beginner level and teaching her sit.”

I wiggled my leg, getting Winnie to release her piranha teeth. “Aren’t you a fucking smart-ass today.”

“Have you found a dog sitter for your away games?” he asked, ignoring my comment.

“No. You know…you could—shit.” My phone buzzed, indicating another incoming call, and I sighed. “You’re saved by the bell, Briggsy. My sister’s calling.”

Julian snickered before hanging up, and I rolled my eyes before swiping across my phone screen to accept the call.

“Hey, Nat.”

“Noah.” Her frantic voice made me stand up straighter, worry falling into my gut. “I just got called into surgery. Can you please, pretty please, do me a favor?”

“What’s the favor?”

When it came to my big sister, Natalie, otherwise known affectionately as one of the three Dr. Londons in the family, I knew better than to say I’d do anything without knowing the details.

“Pick Chloe up from skating practice. It ends…” She paused like she was checking the time. “Well, now.”

I could hear the wince in her voice, but I just shrugged. Of all the things she could have asked me to do, picking up my niece, aka the coolest eight-year-old on the planet, from the skating rink ten minutes from my apartment wasn’t a big deal.

“Yeah, Nat. I can pick our little skater up. We’ll grab some lunch and head back here. You can swing by my place whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks, Noah. You’re a lifesaver.”

I snorted. “You’re the trauma surgeon, so I think that’s actually you. But…”

“What?”

“The season’s coming up,” I reminded her. “I won’t always be able to be your backup plan, Nat. As much as I wish that weren’t the case.”

“Wow, way to stress me out right before I’m about to cut someone’s chest open,” she snapped, the tension in her voice rising.

Shit. She was right; it was a dick move bringing this up before her surgery. But it had been weighing on my mind lately, and I was stressed about what Nat would do when I was out of town this season for away games. Ever since her dickhead husband left her for his secretary, I’d picked up his slack.

Not that it was a burden. Actually, I liked that I could be there for at least one of my siblings. The rest of them—and my parents—still lived back home, and my schedule kept me away more than I liked. Plus, I could count on Chloe to play with Winnie all afternoon and wear this puppy out so I could get some uninterrupted sleep tonight. I wasn’t used to losing sleep for any other reason than orgasms, and being a dog dad had come with some adjustments.

“Sorry, sis. Go kick ass and all that jazz.”

She huffed another thank-you before hanging up, and I swooped Winnie into my arms to bring her to her cozy crate so I could head out to pick up Chloe.

I looked down at Win and the tongue that flopped out one side of her mouth. “You’re cute, but you’re a pain in my ass.”

Her lips pulled back slightly, making it look like she was smiling. It made me smile.

Until she sneezed in my face.

A few months ago, Chloe decided she wanted to be a figure skater. And since my sister was determined to give her daughter every experience possible in order to make up for her long work hours and lack of a present father, she immediately signed Chloe up for lessons.

Lo loved skating practice, but especially the last two weeks—ever since she got a new instructor. She always talked my ear off on the way home, detailing everything that happened on the ice, and it usually revolved around Coach B, who was the best ever.

Uncle Noah took some offense to that, honestly.

Typically, I didn’t go into the rink when I picked her up, opting to hang on the bench outside instead. While ice sports and football were played on different fields, sports still attracted sports. And I didn’t like getting recognized and pulled into conversations about my job when I was just trying to pick my niece up from skating practice.

Today, the July heat was blasting up my ass, though. I couldn’t think of anything better than stepping into the rink to cool off while I waited for Chloe.

Relief washed over me as I walked through the front doors and crisp air hit my skin. The sound of skates cutting through ice added to the somewhat delightful chill running down my spine. Stuffing my hand in the pockets of my athletic shorts, I wandered around the curve of the rink, making my way to the stands, where a group of parents were helping kids remove their skates.

I caught Chloe’s eye and waved at her. Her face lit up when she saw me, flashing a smile. Then she ducked her head again, focusing on her skates. She didn’t need help, and I knew better than to offer it. Getting put in my place by an eight-year-old wasn’t on my to-do list for the day.

Leaning against the wall surrounding the rink, I twiddled my thumbs. Lo kept getting distracted every other second by talking to the girls on the bench, but I didn’t mind. She switched schools when Nat moved into her own apartment last year, and I knew it had been hard for Chloe to make friends. It was nice to see her so happy here.

“I really can’t impose on you like that, but thank you.”

A warm, sugary voice caught my attention, and I turned slightly to see a woman leaning against the end of the stands, her back to me. It was a nice back—a back covered in wavy, coppery hair and skintight clothes. She still had skates laced on her feet, one foot propped up on the toe of her blade. She wiggled it almost nervously.

“Seriously,” another woman replied. Dressed in a similar outfit, she sat in the stands as she faced the redhead. “My couch is always free.”

“I can’t sleep on your couch for five months,” the other woman groaned, and I heard her voice more clearly that time. Recognition blazed its way through me, as well as shock.

I wasn’t shocked to see Gemma Briggs at a skating rink; I knew she did this for a living. But I was definitely surprised to see her at Chloe’s rink.

“Is that how long you think you’ll need?” Her friend winced.

“To save up enough to find a new place around here?” Gemma sighed, and my feet automatically started moving toward her. “Yeah. Even with my bare-bones budget, I think it will take at least that long.”

Gemma kept talking, even as I crept up behind her, feeling like…well, a creep.

“I love working here…” She glanced around the rink, letting me see her side profile as her eyes landed on the kids packing their stuff. Her lips turned up in a soft smile. “But the paychecks definitely aren’t the same as they were at St. Maverick’s.”

“Well, let me know if there’s any other way I can help,” the other woman said, dragging Gemma’s attention back around. The two of them shared a quick hug, and then Gemma was left standing alone. Her forlorn expression chased concern around my brain. I’d never seen this side of her before.

Not that I knew her that well, despite trying to get to know her better on more than one occasion.

God, I was about to do something rash, wasn’t I?

I flipped my ball cap—the one I usually wore low to stay incognito—around, wearing it backward instead. And then I cleared my throat.

“You’re looking for a new place?”

Gemma spun at the sound of my voice. I watched as the worry that had been coating her expression morphed into surprise and then something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Her cheeks flushed, though, giving me a hint of what it might be.

“Noah,” she said breathlessly.

I usually hated when people recognized me in public, but boy did I like how my name just fell out of her mouth like that.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, and I realized I’d been staring. It was hard not to when she ran her fingers nervously through her hair like she was doing right now. The color reminded me of a tiger lily—vibrant with darker streaks speckling it.

My eyes flicked to Chloe on the bench. She was standing now, all ready to go but chatting with her friends. A grin stretched over my face. “Picking up my niece.”

Gemma followed my gaze. Her brows lifted. “Chloe Abrams is your niece?”

My lips twisted at the reminder that Lo still had her asshat dad’s last name. But I nodded in response, watching from the corner of my eye as Chloe started bounding toward me, her limbs awkwardly long for an eight-year-old.

“Coach B! We want to learn forward crossovers next week!” Chloe called, her eyes shining as she looked at Gemma, and all the pieces clicked together in my head.

Gemma was Coach B. Of course she was, and of course Chloe thought she was the best.

I thought she was the best, too. Always had, but there was only one problem.

Gemma Briggs was Julian’s sister. And out of all of my friends, Julian was by far the most wildly protective and ridiculously smothering. Talking to Gemma was strictly against the rules. Hell, even looking at Gemma was against the rules.

I’d definitely broken that rule before.

Promptly deciding to ignore all the warning bells in my head, I rounded on Gemma to ask her again about her living situation.

Because her dilemma might just solve one—or even two—of mine.