Football Next Door: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 70) Read online

  FOOTBALL NEXT DOOR

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 70

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Football Next Door

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Series

  Newsletter

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

  Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

  Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

  Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy

  Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess

  Book 32: Statham

  Book 33: Bodyguard

  Book 34: Greek God

  Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter

  Book 36: Mountain Man

  Book 37: SEAL’s Justice

  Book 38: Royal Romance

  Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery

  Book 40: Crocodile Dan D

  Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby

  Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby

  Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter

  Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door

  Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace

  Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny

  Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter

  Book 49: Steamy

  Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend

  Book 51: Possessive Professor

  Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter

  Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby

  Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day

  Book 55: Doctor Next Door

  Book 56: Possessive Policeman

  Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter

  Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter

  Book 59: Virgin in New York

  Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby

  Book 61: Possessive Protector

  Book 62: Possessive Australian

  Book 63: Best Friend’s Brother

  Book 64: Possessive Cowboy

  Book 65: Summer Romanced

  Book 66: Possessive Prince

  Book 67: Lovers’s Enemy

  Book 68: Cop’s Best Friend

  Book 69: Possessive Firefighter

  Book 70: Football Next Door

  FOOTBALL NEXT DOOR

  When the football from next door rolls down the hallway causing me to almost trip after a long day of work I decide I’ve had enough.

  But when I knock on my next-door neighbor’s door and a sexy older man answers this younger woman is suddenly tripping over my own words.

  It’s the star quarterback of the best football team in the country.

  I hand him his football back and he hands me ticket to see his next game on Sunday, but all I’m thinking about is something else we could be doing six ways to Sunday

  It’s the first time I’ve ever been to a football game and the first time in history a football player ever does what he does…leading me to think I think it might be the first time for something else.

  But when this fabulous football player suddenly gets traded will he trade me in for a new girl in the next city or will I go from being his next-door neighbor to making a home with him…together forever?

  *Football Next Door is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER 1

  Thea

  The elevator dings and I count to three.

  I need to count because I can’t see anything in front of me.

  I’ve got a dozen two inch thick spiral ring binders stacked in my arms that I need to get to my apartment.

  Ahhhh. The joys of not having a car. I had to tip the Uber driver extra to stack them in my arms on the sidewalk before I entered the building. Then I had to wait for another tenant to arrive to open the door, and another tenant to press the elevator button for me. Of course nobody had time to say maybe…take a few of the binders and quickly help me up to my apartment.

  Gentleman…where have they all disappeared to?

  I take a step out of the elevator and walk straight, my face completely sideways as I read the numbers on each door knowing I’m getting closer to mine. But of course I’m facing the opposite way so when I see the even number one higher than mine I start to do some sort of side step towards where my door should be. It looks like something you do when you put those weird rubber band things around you legs and then take side steps. They’re all the rage in L.A., not that I would know much about them. I’ve been chained to my desk since I got to town.

  I take a step sideways before bringing my far foot even with the foot closer to my door. I have to move slowly so my binders, which resemble more of a Jenga game at this point, don’t go flying everywhere.

  I take another step and bring my other foot level. Almost there.

  I take one more step, but this time when I go to plant my foot I immediately know I’m not standing on solid ground. I feel m
y leg wobble and my knee buckle and my hands raise up sending my binders towards the ceiling as my butt makes a beeline for the floor.

  Just when I’m expecting to slam my tailbone into the cold tiles my butt hits that damn wobbly thing again and I bounce before landing just next to it.

  Well, at least it cushioned my fall.

  But it didn’t cushion my head as I wish I had a helmet on when those spiral binders come down right on top of my noggin.

  “Ouch!” I yell. “Damn, that hurt,” I say as I rub my head and look at the mess I’ve made in the hallway. I look to my side and see a football.

  A football?

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  These apartments are supposed to be for single tenants only. Who moved in and brought their kid with them?

  I look at the door next to mine and see that it’s cracked a tiny bit.

  “Catch it! Now run! Run! Run!”

  The voice is deep and sounds like warm caramel and I have to admit that even though I’m super angry right now the jerk who did this does have a nice, deep, masculine voice. The kind of voice of a guy who might have actually helped me bring these binders up. A real man.

  I look back at the football. Or more likely a man-child. Another of the kind that never grows up. I enjoy going to sporting events with friends and I played soccer as a girl, but there’s a certain point in life when I learned not to leave my toys and balls lying around where people could trip over them. I think I was about five.

  And the more I think about it the angrier I get.

  I grab the football and stand up. I’m thankful I didn’t sprain an ankle or get hurt, but this guy sure isn’t going to be thankful when I light into him.

  I’ve had it with all these immature, irresponsible guys and he’s going to get the brunt of my wrath.

  I knock hard on the door three times and square my shoulders and bend my knees. Then I throw my shoulder back a bit, clear my throat, and take a big breath.

  I don’t care how big this guy is. He’s getting it anyways even if…oh…my…god…it’s…

  “Hey there,” he says. “I see you found my football.”

  Oh my word I found a whole lot more than that and do I ever like what I see. It’s Brady Braxton, star quarterback for the Los Angeles Leopards. What he’s doing in my apartment building I have no idea. He’s got enough money to buy the building at this point, but apparently he lives here?

  And by lives I mean answers the door with a towel barely wrapped around his waist and no shirt.

  I bite my bottom lip and feel the blood rush to my face.

  “Or if you want to keep it it’s no problem. Finders keepers, right,” he says.

  How long was I just staring? It felt like a second but when my mind comes back to the present I realize it must have been like twenty or thirty seconds of me with my jaw on the floor. Time to pick it up and respond before I start drooling. Last thing I need is to trip a second time, especially on my own slobber, but wow is he ever mouth wateringly hot!

  “This is your football?”

  “Yeah, I was looking for it everywhere,” he says as he flashes me a smirk. “Everywhere except where it must have been. Where was it? Parking garage?”

  “Uh no, it was just here in the hallway off to the side.”

  “Ah. It must have slipped out of my duffel bag when I came in the door. I have to be more careful, somebody could trip and fall over it.”

  “Yeah,” I say. Do I tell him the truth, or?… “Yeah, luckily no-one did.”

  He looks at the binders strewn all over the hallway floor and then back at me. His eyes drift down my arm to the football. “Wait a second. You didn’t…?”

  I squint out of one eye as my shoulders round up and forward.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says. “Are you okay?’

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing.”

  “I was just about to take an ice bath. You’re welcome to jump in there first. You can just throw on a pair of shorts and stick your legs in there up to your calves, just in case. That way they won’t swell or anything.”

  “I didn’t sprain anything or anything like that. I’m totally fine.”

  “Are you sure? It’s just right there,” he says turning to point back inside his apartment. And when he does it gives me the perfect opportunity to turn my attention to that body of his.

  Good grief! As his trunk turns I get a straight on view of his abdominals. What is it that people go for? A six-pack? He’s got like…a twelve-pack. Two six-packs! There are even muscles on the sides of his abs and his back. He’s got “babs!” Back abs.

  And I look up at that big, circular shoulder muscle that’ just below his thick neck.

  And his chest. I have the perfect profile shot and I can see his pectoral muscles rippling and I just want to run my hands all over them…preferably while they’re covered in Hershey’s chocolate sauce. The whole bottle.

  My eyes quickly move down to his legs and I see a couple of bruises on his calves and his ankle and they look huge.

  “Oh that,” he says. “That’s what happens when a three hundred and fifty pound guy who’s six foot eight and runs a sub four and a half second forty yard dash catches you from your blind side. And by catches I mean hits you like a Mack truck.”

  Oh my god, did he catch me checking him out? At least I was just looking at his ankle.

  “And that explains why I have a tub. I practically live in that thing.”

  “A tub?”

  “Yeah, for taking ice baths.”

  “You…sit in a tub completely full of ice?”

  “Yep, that one right there,” he says pointing to it again and the idea of cooling myself off after checking him out suddenly seems like a real possibility. And not to mention it would let me take a look at the inside of his apartment. It must be incredible.

  But what’s really incredible and also looks like it needs cooling off is him! His towel is poking outwards completely horizontal in the groin area and whoa…I can see where he hangs that towel when it’s not in use.

  His rod is long and thick and rock hard. And I can decipher all of that just from what’s underneath a towel. I’m already imagining seeing it in the flesh, or better yet watching it go in and out of me.

  He starts to turn and I turn my eyes back to his.

  “No, I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to return your ball.”

  “Thank you. Usually when I lose these things they wind up on eBay.”

  “On eBay?” I say, realizing that being a celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. People trying to get sentimental things from you just to make a quick buck.

  “Never mind. It’s not important. You’re not like that anyways. But wait…do you have one second?”

  For him I’ve got all the time in the world. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he says and darts inside his apartment.

  I try not to be too nosey, but I look inside and see he’s got floor to wall windows and a view of the Hollywood sign. Wow!

  My unit is way cheaper and there’s a view of another building right in front of me. I feel like I’m stuck in one of those old soviet housing blocks, but at least it keeps the rent way down.

  But wait? How does he have a view of the Hollywood sign?

  I look down the hallway and suddenly realize there are no more doors on our side after his. He has the last unit on our side, while the other side continues along as normal with unit after unit. So he must have the equivalent of about…I count quickly…ten to twenty of my apartments. Talk about opulence.

  The elevators are back at the beginning of the hallway and when I reach my apartment I always just go inside. I’ve never had a reason to look at the door one past mine where he lives, nor would I ever continue farther down the hall to realize the last apartment on our side was his. I just figured there was a bunch more down that way, as there are on the other side of the hallway, but now I know they’re not. Unbelievable.


  “Here ya go,” he says. “Just a little something to say sorry and thank you…if you’re free.”

  “Thanks,” I say, opening up the envelope that has the Leopard’s logo on the front.

  “I really hope to see you there…I mean I really hope you can make it,” he says.

  Inside the envelope is one ticket to the game a week from today.

  “Sorry there’s not two so unfortunately you won’t be able to bring somebody. But I promise you’ll have a great time and I’ll let them know you’re coming. Everything is comped. You’ll love it…?”

  “Thea,” I say.

  “Brady,” he says, as if I don’t already know his name. How cute and unassuming. I like him…a lot.

  “Thank you, Brady. This is the nicest gift someone’s given me in a long time.”

  “My pleasure. I’m really glad you like it and I look forward to seeing you there,” he says, this time not correcting himself.