The Last Honest Man: A Sports Romance (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 3) Read online

  THE

  LAST HONEST

  MAN

  ONE PASS AWAY: A NEW SEASON

  BOOK TWO

  ©2020 MARY J. WILLIAMS

  Copyright © 2020 by Mary J. Williams.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the Copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  First E-book Printing, 2020

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Writing isn’t easy. But I love every second. A blank screen isn’t the enemy. It is an opportunity to create new friends and take them on amazing adventures and life-changing journeys. I feel blessed to spend my days weaving tales that are unique—because I made them.

  Billionaires. Songwriters. Artists. Actors. Directors. Stuntmen. Football players. They fill the pages and become dear friends I hope you will want to revisit again and again.

  Thank you for jumping into my books and coming along for the journey.

  HOW TO GET IN TOUCH

  Please visit me at these sites, sign up for the Mary J. Williams newsletter, or leave a message.

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  MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS

  Harper Falls

  If I Loved You

  If Tomorrow Never Comes

  If You Only Knew

  If I Had You (Christmas in Harper Falls)

  Hollywood Legends

  Dreaming with a Broken Heart

  Dreaming with My Eyes Wide Open

  Dreaming of Your Love

  Dreaming Again

  Dreaming of a White Christmas

  (Caleb and Callie’s story)

  One Pass Away

  After the Rain

  After All These Years

  After the Fire

  Hart of Rock and Roll

  Flowers on the Wall

  Flowers and Cages

  Flowers are Red

  Flowers for Zoe

  Flowers in Winter

  WITH ONE MORE LOOK AT YOU

  One Strike Away

  For a Little While

  For Another Day

  For All We Know

  For the First Time

  The Sisters Quartet

  One Way or Another

  Two of a Kind

  Three Wishes

  Four Simple Words

  Five More Minutes (The Sisters Quartet Christmas)

  Six Days (The Sisters Quartet Wedding)

  Rock & Roll Forever

  Almost Paradise

  Almost Blue

  Almost Everything

  Almost Home

  Almost Like Being in Love (A Rock & Roll Forever Christmas)

  One Pass Away—A New Season

  The Devil Wears Blue Jeans

  The Back-Up Plan

  The Last Honest Man

  The Heartbreak Kid

  AUDIOBOOKS

  ONE PASS AWAY SERIES

  After the Rain – click here

  After All These Years – click here

  After the Fire - click here

  HOLLYWOOD LEGENDS SERIES

  Dreaming with a Broken Heart – click here

  Dreaming with My Eyes Wide Open - click here

  Dreaming of Your Love - click here

  Dreaming Again - click here

  HARPER FALLS SERIES

  If I Loved You – click here

  If Tomorrow Never Comes – click here

  If You Only Knew – click here

  If I Had You – click here

  THE SISTERS QUARTET

  One Way or Another - click here

  Two of a Kind - click here

  Three Wishes - click here

  Four Simple Words - click here

  Five More Minutes - click here

  Six Days - click here

  THE HART OF ROCK AND ROLL

  Flowers on the Wall - click here

  Flowers and Cages - click here

  Flowers are Red - click here

  Flowers for Zoe - click here

  ROCK & ROLL FOREVER

  Almost Paradise - click here

  Almost Blue - click here

  Almost Everything - click here

  Almost Home - click here

  Almost Like Being in Love – click here

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  HOW TO GET IN TOUCH

  MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS

  AUDIOBOOKS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  PROLOGUE

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  Seattle, Washington

  AN ELEGANTLY APPOINTED waiter poured a glass of vintage Bordeaux into a long-stemmed crystal glass. Hands covered with crisp white gloves, the man stepped back and waited with carefully contained anxiety as a beautiful woman took a sip of the rich, dark liquid. Flipping a column of glossy dark hair over one shoulder, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of unabashed pleasure.

  A model by profession—with a deep-seated desire to be a movie star—what Sasha Lake lacked in acting talent she made up for in a heightened sense of the dramatic.

  Watching Sasha’s performance, Dylan Montgomery’s lips quirked into an amused smile. He nodded toward the waiter to leave the bottle before turning his attention back to his companion.

  “Good?” he asked as she set down her glass.

  “My favorite,” Sasha answered, licking a drop of wine from the corner of her crimson-colored lips. Her eyes met his, laughter sparkling from their dark depths. “You should have some.”

  As Dylan’s smile widened, he shook his head. While he enjoyed the taste of alcohol, like the head cheerleader of his high school football team who he crushed on for three solid years, his feelings were not reciprocated. Some things, he learned from bitter experience, were simply not meant to be.

  A lightweight where drinking was concerned, he could get a buzz simply sniffing the cork from a bottle of whiskey. One beer, while in the company of friends, was his limit. These days, he rarely consumed anything stronger than the herbal tea he had specially blended at a local store.

  “How long have we known each other?” Sasha inquired as she ran one fingertip along the edge of her glass. “Almost two years?”

  “Sounds right,” Dylan said with a shrug. If pushed, he might be able to pinpoint the exact date of their first meeting, though he saw no reason to bother. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  Sasha took in the elegantly appointed candlelit table. Her gaze flickered over the romantically shadowed room where they
were the only occupants before settling on the bank of floor to ceiling windows. The moon glistened off the waters of nearby Puget Sound—truly a million-dollar view.

  “We don’t date,” Sasha pointed out as she lifted her glass. “We’re friendly, but neither of us would call the other a friend. To say we’re lovers seems too romantic a classification for what essentially is a booty call once every few months.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Dylan waited. Because their meetings were few and far between, he tended to forget Sasha’s penchant for using a dozen words when one or two would do just as well. Even the kindest of her many admirers would never call the woman’s vocabulary precise or succinct.

  “I enjoy our brief but eventful encounters,” Sasha continued, causing Dylan to suppress a sigh. “You’re handsome, you have a gorgeous body. Yum, yum.”

  Dylan appreciated the compliment but didn’t let Sasha’s words go to his head. He couldn’t take credit for his good looks; the dark hair and eyes, like his other features, came from his father’s side of the family. The fact that his parent’s genes combined in a way that others found pleasing was just the luck of the draw.

  As for his body, Dylan kept in shape because to play professional football in the twenty-first century, an athlete needed every advantage he could get. To stay at the top of his game—to hold off the ravages of time and hold back the new crop of eager rookies who nipped at his heels each year—he worked out as though his life were on the line.

  Dylan chuckled to himself. Life or death. Not a bad analogy considering the murder he often saw in the eyes of the other team’s defensive line.

  As Dylan casually took a drink of water, he noticed the flicker of annoyance in Sasha’s eyes and stifled a sigh. He knew what she wanted and though he found her need to have her ego stroked one of her least endearing qualities, tonight his desire for her body surpassed everything else.

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” Dylan began, not the least surprised when his casual compliment made Sasha beam with delight. “Soft, fragrant skin. Smooth, gentle curves. A delight to touch. A pleasure to hold. Plus, you’re an inventive lover. With you, I’m never bored.”

  “I should think not,” Sasha scoffed. “I’m good. Correction. I’m spectacular. I’m also a sure thing—at least where you’re concerned. Which brings me to my point.”

  “Finally.”

  Sasha continued as though she hadn’t heard Dylan’s good-humored mutter.

  “Why do you always bring me to a fancy restaurant? Why buy a bottle of expensive wine that only I enjoy? Wear a suit and tie. Expect me to dress to the nines.”

  “Wear jeans and a t-shirt,” Dylan told her in complete sincerity. His gaze sparked with interest as Sasha crossed one long, bare, shapely leg over the other. The movement forced her already short skirt a few interesting inches higher. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the view. But if you aren’t comfortable with a little pre-sex wining and dining, all you need to do is let me know.”

  “What woman doesn’t like to wear her best frock and have a handsome, influential man take her to a place most people can’t afford, let alone secure a reservation at the last moment?” Sasha asked.

  “And yet, you seem less than content with your surroundings,” Dylan pointed out.

  “I have no complaints,” Sasha told him. “Later, after we go to bed, I plan to blatantly wallow in contented afterglow. What I don’t understand is why do you bother with the pretty trappings when all you want is sex?”

  She had a good point, Dylan thought. And yet, he’d never been the kind of man who liked to fall into bed without preamble. If they were in a serious relationship, one where they talked, exchanged philosophies, shared the intricacies of their personal lives, he could imagine passion getting the better of him. Such was not the case with Sasha.

  Months would pass and Dylan wouldn’t spare the beautiful woman a thought. Then, like tonight, he found himself at loose ends. Restless. Unlike most of the women he knew, Sasha didn’t care if his call came at the last minute. If she was free, great. If not, he didn’t get angry. He had neither the right nor the emotional investment, to feel anything but a temporary and mild disappointment.

  “I thought you liked to dress up and hit the town.” Dylan shrugged. “If you prefer, in the future we can forego dinner and drinks. When I call, just let me know.”

  “Fancy is good.” Leaning closer, Sasha laid her hand on his. “Why don’t you call more often? I haven’t seen you for months. Long before you won the Super Bowl.”

  “I didn’t win the game,” Dylan pointed out. “The Knights’ victory was a team effort.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. As expected, Sasha wasn’t interested in semantics. Her cat-like eyes narrowed. “Experience has taught me how much you enjoy sex. Because we meet infrequently, I can’t be the only bed partner in your life.”

  Dylan did see other women but not in the same way as Sasha. Some he dated. Some were friends. He saw no reason to explain the difference.

  Suddenly, an uncomfortable thought crossed Dylan’s mind. Until now, everything about their interactions had been casual, fun, and carefree. Tonight, he sensed a change in the air between them.

  Were Sasha’s roundabout musings her way of saying her expectations had changed?

  “I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. No strings, no questions, no problem.” Dylan watched her face for a sign his suspicions were on target. “Do you want more?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

  Sasha’s smile seemed genuine. Her words felt sincere. Then again, perhaps her acting lessons were beginning to pay off.

  Before Dylan could decide, he was distracted by an incoming call. Checking the screen, he felt a familiar tightness grip the base of his neck and slowly radiate across his shoulders.

  “Excuse me for a second,” he told Sasha.

  Without waiting for an answer, Dylan exited the room. Finding a quiet corner, he swiped right and raised the phone to his ear.

  “Hello, Mom.”

  “Dylan.”

  One word delivered in a tone he’d come to dread, and he knew what was coming. He loved his mother—dearly and with all his heart. Sylvie Montgomery was good, gentle, and kind. She was also a pushover where her oldest son was concerned. Dylan, on the other hand, after years of enabling and cleaning up his brother’s messes, had reached his limit. No more.

  “Is Tanner’s life in danger?”

  Sylvie’s silence was more telling than a thousand words.

  “Unless he’s literally on the brink of death, I don’t want to know.”

  “But—”

  “I’m serious, Mom. Damnit.” Dylan heard the harshness in his voice and willed himself to temper his tone and reminded himself of who was on the other end of the line. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Promise?” Sylvie asked. “You won’t forget?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?” Dylan asked without adding the same couldn’t be said for his brother. But he didn’t want to add to his mother’s distress and kept his opinion to himself.

  “Tomorrow,” Sylvie said.

  The hope in his mother’s voice was like a knife to Dylan’s heart. He’d pledged himself that the last time he’d cleaned up his brother’s latest mess would be the last. Already, he felt his resolve slipping away.

  Dylan resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall. Taking a deep breath, he slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and straightened his tie. His family life might be complicated, but he refused to let his sex life be anything but simple.

  Returning to the private dining room, Dylan took Sasha’s hand and helped her to her feet. He didn’t mention the phone call and she didn’t ask. He draped her silk-lined wrap across her shoulders.

  “Ready?”

  “The question is, are you ready?” Sasha curled her fingers around his arm as they left the restaurant and sent him a knowing loo
k. “I plan to use your body for my pleasure. All night long and well into the morning.”

  Back on familiar ground, Dylan felt himself start to relax, deciding he was mistaken earlier. Sasha was his occasional playmate—nothing more. Lucky for him, if she suddenly decided to change the rules of their mutually satisfactory game, he could walk away without regret, guilt, or a backward glance.

  Dylan’s lips twisted into an ironic smile. Leaving a woman was easy. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for his family.

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  Trident, New Mexico

  BONE TIRED AND in desperate need of a hot shower and twelve straight hours of uninterrupted sleep, Eve Stewart let herself into her tiny one-bedroom apartment knowing the chance of her getting either wish were slim to none.

  The reasons were simple and absolute. First, the water ran from the old pipes in two temperatures—icy cold and lukewarm. Hot was nothing but a sad and sorry dream.

  Second, Eve didn’t live alone. Her roommate was easy to get along with but had one major flaw. Not only did she wake with the sun, but she also insisted anyone within earshot was required to do the same.

  Stifling a yawn, Eve stretched her arms over her head wincing when the pair of six-inch platform heels that she carried in one hand knocked against her head.

  “I don’t know how you walk in those things let alone serve drinks.” Mrs. Dowd, Eve’s neighbor from down the hall, turned on the lamp by the sofa where she’d fallen asleep. “Even at your age, my feet couldn’t take the torture.”

  Eve set the sandals on the floor. Balancing her hand on the sofa, she unlaced the canvas sneakers she wore to and from work. When her bare feet touched the cool tiled floor, she sighed with relief and flexed her toes.

  Afraid she might not get back up again, Eve didn’t sit. Instead, she allowed herself the brief luxury of closing her eyes. When her head lolled to one side, she straightened with a snap.