Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) Read Free Page B

him.
    Besides, Ty wasn’t marrying for love, just convenience and hot, inventive sex. At the thought of sex, his gaze slipped to the woman next to him who wore her displeasure like a suit of feminine armor.
    He considered his options. If he left, he’d forfeit the place to a group of geriatrics who’d most likely lose it or sell it. Or, he could spend the next ninety days on an island with no cell service, one stoplight, and no nightlife, unless you counted playing pull tabs and swapping fish stories with the locals as nightlife. He’d be completely isolated from rabid reporters and hoards of nosy fans, which did have its merits. Or he could high-tail it out of Dodge with nothing lost, nothing gained.
    Ever since he’d rear-ended the cop car over a week ago, his life had been hell. The press hounded him day and night. Rumors flew about DUI and drug charges, even a possible stint in rehab. Forget that he’d just won the Super Bowl. Nobody cared about that. They wanted dirt. Even worse, some dipshit videoed the entire fucked-up accident, including the aftermath and sold it to a major sports network. The clip started with him ramming into the cop, then taking a breathalyzer test which he passed with flying colors—thank you very much—and ending with him being handcuffed and hauled into jail because he’d given the jock-hating prick of a cop some lip. The cocky son-of-a-bitch had arrested Tyler just because he could. His attorney got him out a few hours later, no charges filed. At least, not yet.
    But that didn’t stop the speculation. Everyone wanted to believe the worst of him. No one bought that he’d passed the breathalyzer. He’d been the subject of just about every sports show for the past week—ad nauseum, while his agent worked feverishly to do damage control with the league and the team.
    Tyler rubbed his thumb across his stubble, considering his options: peace and boredom or mayhem and stress. He pinned Jim with a laser gaze. “So, how much do you think that property is worth?” He kept his attention on Jim, not chancing a look at Lavender, even though he heard her sniff and blow her nose.
    “Millions. With that much waterfront, even in this economy, it’s priceless.” Something flickered in Jim’s eyes, immediately rousing Tyler’s suspicions. The attorney wasn’t being one hundred percent straight with him.
    Whatever.
    Tyler didn’t need a run-down mansion in the middle of flipping nowhere. Yet, Twin Cedars was his family’s legacy, built over a hundred years ago by his timber baron ancestor, Jackson Harris. Not that he’d keep it in the family.
    The land was a different story. Worth Millions?
    Tyler blew through money like a NASCAR driver blew through the finish line. Being a big spender was all part of his persona. He always figured he’d just earn more.
    Yet even before the playoffs, the winds of change had started blowing across his once secure future. That big contract loaded with incentives and the lucrative endorsements could all end tomorrow. Take another mediocre season and add a hot-shot rookie quarterback, and he’d be relegated to backup status. Even worse, an injury could end his career in the time it takes the center to snap the ball. Then where would he be? No source of new income, no marketable skills other than football, expensive tastes, more expensive fiancée, and a family who dipped into his cash a little too often.
    He’d seen it happen several times. A washed-up football star goes bankrupt.
    Not gonna happen to him. He’d never suffer that humiliation; never do that to his family. They depended on him.
    He’d be damned if he’d give up a valuable chunk of land just to get out of ninety days of pure hell. If there was one thing Tyler had never had enough of, it was money. And Tyler always wanted more. His life revolved around an endless pursuit of more: more fame, more fortune, more victories, more women, more parties. More of everything. Because somewhere buried in