Changing Lanes (The Lone Stars Book 3)

Professional Football Player, Devon Harding found his soul mate at the age of seventeen. Trouble is, he can’t remember her last name. For the last fourteen years, he’s been waiting for The Universe to send her back to him. When that day comes, he nearly falls all over himself to get to her. But he plays it cool and waits for her to come to him.

And she walks right past him.

Pediatric Oncologist, Laney Nixon has only been in love once—at the age of sixteen. For the last fourteen years, she’s looked for him, but not know his last name has made finding him impossible. But when she comes face–to–face with him, she doesn’t recognize him.

Can Devon get her to remember the past so they can have a future?

Because all is fair in love and football…and the past is just the beginning.

Changing Lanes

by

Katie Graykowski

Copyright 2014 by Katie Graykowski

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photo—copying, recording, or otherwise) without written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

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

Formatting by
Anessa Books

For Robyn and Jax—two mothers who found their families in the foster care system. Motherhood is a gift and you’ve worked hard for it.

Acknowledgments

Books are like children, you plan for them, but in the end they surprise you. This was not an easy book to write. I cried more than my fair share of tears, but in the end, I’m happy. Thank you to Emily McKay and Jane Myers Perrine for allowing me to bounce ideas off of you. Thank you to Tracy Wolff who is my very own cheering section…all you need are some pom–poms. Thanks to Catherine Morris who inspires me as both a mother and a writer. Thank you to the Chez Zee crowd for providing stimulating conversation on topics that seem to make the other patrons at the surrounding tables leave abruptly. Thank you to Jessica LaMirand for so many things they are too numerous to count. Thanks to Austin RWA because without you, I’d still think GMC was a type of vehicle. Thank you to my husband and daughter who show me everyday that love is the only thing that matters. Thank you to my mother for showing me unconditional love.

Thanks to my ‘reckless’ sisters who were willing to share their own personal recklessness with me: Catherine Morris, Monika Cimolin, Sharon Harriger–Kraeling, Dawn Sullivan, Ella Quinn, Cheri Jennings–Wine, Jennifer Pecoraro–Holmes, Renee Tschoepe–Havis, Jessica Sigur, Maryeah Kramer, Susan Pitman–Simpson, Kate Marchand, Amy Wilson, Laura Akers–Collins, Becky Darmogray. Ladies, you amaze me.

Thank you to my beta readers: Angel Buskey, Darla Pond, Amy Howard, Shanna Lubold, Katy Otter, Emily Maynard, Joy Carnation, Sherry Ness, Kathy Camp, Dawn Marie Blackmon, Joanne Pope, Cindy Lee, Stacy Sanders, Sandra Griffiths, Stephanie Zinnicker, and Jenny Kanagy. Ladies, you ROCK! I couldn’t have done it without you.

A big thank you to my fans, your encouragement keeps me going.

Chapter 1

Pediatric Oncologist, Laney Nixon longed to do something reckless. With her left pinkie, she flicked on her blinker a good quarter of a mile before she needed to turn. Always the cautious one, she made sure to keep her Volvo sedan five miles under the speed limit, she never gunned it on a yellow, and she always stopped a good five seconds at a stop sign. Being careful was just as much a part of Laney’s DNA as eye color or the ability to curl her tongue.

If only she could allow herself to skydive, but she couldn’t even bring herself to rip the tag off the mattress she’d bought two years ago. It’s not that she was too controlled to be reckless, it was just … well she was too controlled to be reckless.

The fact that she was aware of her controlling nature in itself should have helped her to change it, but recognizing it and fixing it were two different things.

In two days she’d turn thirty. It was a sad state of affairs that an almost–thirty something woman hadn’t done anything she regretted. A woman should have at least a few regrets before she turned thirty, but sadly the closest thing she had to a bad decision was an impulse buy of a pair of purple platform heels. When she’d bought them, she’d envisioned herself club hopping like Paris Hilton or God forbid singing karaoke in a spandex mini, but the reality was they didn’t match anything she owned and squished her baby toes. Now, they sat unused in her closet taunting her with their blatant purple–ness and unrealized reckless potential.

She checked the clock on the dash—ten minutes until two. She was going to be early. Laney rolled her eyes. Early went along with the regret–free, boring package. She turned into the parking lot of the Austin Lone Stars football stadium.

Today, she and her fellow Tough Ladies, the triathlon team she’d joined three years ago, were giving a talk on teamwork to the Super Bowl defending champion football team. More than once, she’d wondered why her insignificant little triathlon team needed to talk to anyone about teamwork. True, they all got along, and they were a team, but for the most part, they didn’t play together. It’s not that they purposefully didn’t work as a team, it’s just that besides training together, swimming, running, and cycling were solitary sports.

Laney chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Every single Tough Lady was a risk–taker except her. Nina was a commercial airline pilot who was always flying off to some exotic destination. January owned a bar on Sixth Street and didn’t take crap from anyone. Charisma, their fearless leader, had been known to talk perfectly sane people into running another ten miles for no good reason. And then there was Susie. If their team had a mom, she was it. She made homemade granola and taught eighth grade—if that wasn’t fearless, then Laney didn’t know what was.

Her teammates were always after her to break out of her shell.

Maybe today Laney would have raunchy sex with a steaming hot football player in the elevator of the stadium, or better yet, on the fifty–yard line. She glanced down at her serviceable beige pantsuit and matching beige pumps. Underneath, she wore a comfortable beige cotton bra and panty set. Not exactly hot sex lingerie. What were the chances of her meeting a legally blind professional football player?

In great detail, she would describe the sexy bra and panty set she’d wished she were wearing. It would be red and lacy and tiny. How exactly did the sighted explain red to the blind? Okay, so he needed to have been sighted and then lost his vision. But how? Disease? If he played pro ball than he was too young for Cataracts, Glaucoma, Macular degeneration and the chances of an athlete having diabetic eye disease or a brain tumor was slim. It could happen, but it wasn’t likely. For that matter, the chances were slim there would be a legally blind professional football player.

So … there was zero chance of raunchy football player sex. She couldn’t exactly be fearless in safe underwear.

She pulled into a parking space by the front gate, put the car in park, and turned off the engine.

That was it. She slapped the steering wheel for effect. After this meeting, she was heading straight to the closest Victoria Secret and buying them out of thongs—lacy ones that probably itched and would take a highly trained surgical staff to remove. By this time tomorrow, she’d have an underwear drawer full of regrets.

She stepped out of the car, clicked the fob to lock it, and walked toward the front gate.

“Lanes, over here,” a high–pitched Betty–Boop voice called over her right shoulder.

She turned around. Nina Munoz waved from two rows over. She was petite, curvy, and had miles of thick black hair. Add in her fiery Latin attitude and Betty Boop voice—she was a walking, talking male fantasy. Laney imagined that every single man on board the plane she was piloting, paid close attention to the preflight announcements.

“We’re supposed to meet them on the field or something.” Nina made her way to Laney.

Why couldn’t she be more like Nina? She scuba–dived, sky dived, and ate carbs at every meal. She drove a Corvette and routinely ran red lights. Nina probably had thousands of regrets.

“Ladies, wait for me.” January Jenkowski called from the window of her Nissan Leaf. She pulled into the parking space close to Laney and got out of her car.

Laney’s boxy beige Volvo looked like a square mushroom next to the baby blue car. And next to January who was a six–foot blonde surfer girl, Laney’s dishwater brown bob and five foot six inch height might as well have been beige too.

Laney looked down. Her suit was the exact same color as her car. Was everything in her life beige? When she got home, she was burning everything beige. She sucked on her bottom lip. Now that she thought about it, her entire condo was beige.

“I just came from Susie’s. She’s up and walking around.” January shook her head and artfully windblown blonde waves settled around her like a model in a shampoo commercial. “They remove the pins tomorrow.”

“I know. My father does good work.” Laney rolled her eyes. Her father, orthopedic surgeon Giles Nixon was the master of control. His god complex gave God a run for his money. But he knew how to fix bones, if not people, and he’d helped her friend. Not only would Susie be back on her feet soon, but she’d be running like nothing had ever happened.

“Okay, ladies,” Charisma LeMair looped an arm around Laney and January. “Let’s give this football team some hell.”

Charisma was the most aptly named person that Laney had ever met. Add in her take–no–prisoners personality and she could talk a legion of couch potatoes into running ten miles uphill, in the rain. Her dirty blonde hair had streaks of purple this week. Last week it was red. Part manic cheerleader and part evil dictator, she got things done. And the fact that she was all of five foot tall, only made her more formidable. She was a walking–talking risk taker.

They marched arm–in–arm to the front gate. Laney was proud to be a Tough Lady, proud to be in the company of these dynamic women, and proud to have them as her close friends. If she couldn’t manage reckless then she would live vicariously through them.

Devon Harding rubbed his aching shoulder and told himself that exhaustion was just a state of mind. Practice had kicked his butt today. His back hurt from the last hit he’d taken, and his knees were killing him. As a ten–year veteran of the NFL, this would be his last year. It’s not that he’d lost his edge, but rather football just wasn’t fun anymore. He’d made plenty of money, and it was time for pursuing his true passion—food. First and Ten Barbecue had been his dream for as long as he could remember. He realized that most men dreamed of becoming a professional football player while he dreamed of smoked chicken and brisket. Yet another example of how he liked to march to a different drummer. Many times his mother had commented that she’d like to shoot that fucking drummer.

Right now, all he wanted to do was go home, soak his tired body in the hot tub for several hours, and check on the brisket he’d started smoking earlier this morning. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through some dull team meeting where the coach hammered home all the mistakes he’d made today. Not that Coach Robbins wasn’t justified, but Devon realized he’d made mistakes, and he would run over them again and again in his head, beating himself up for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“Hey big guy.” Grace Robbins, the coach’s new wife, touched his left arm. The moment he’d met Grace he’d known they would become friends. At one point, he’d been of a mind to ask her out, but she’d always had eyes for the coach. Now, she was one of his best friends.

“What’s up?” He set his helmet on the table, grabbed a paper cup, and filled it with water from the large orange cooler always sitting on the sidelines.

“What did you think about Marla?” Grace was on a mission to find him a love connection.