Wildcard : A Westbrook Elite Standalone by Cambria Hebert

Author:Cambria Hebert [Hebert, Cambria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cambria Hebert Books, LLC
Published: 2023-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

23

Jason

Phweeeeee!

The sudden high-pitched, shrill sound cut through the comfortable silence and brutally shattered the sleep I was frankly enjoying.

I jolted, body flying up before my eyes were even open as the wretched sound nearly split my eardrum in two.

“What the fuck?” I yelled, spilling over the side of the mattress and taking half the blankets with me as I fell onto my ass.

Landry’s cry of surprise had me up and launching back onto the bed to snatch her close.

Phweeeee! Phweee!

My ears nearly bled as I cupped my palms against Landry’s, trying to shield her from the sound.

“Oh my God, Dad!” Landry yelled.

It wasn’t so much her yell but what she yelled that chased off the sleep, surprise and adrenaline coursing through me. My head snapped up to the man standing on the other side of the mattress, a whistle clutched between his lips.

Well. This was awkward. But also… “Jesus, Coach! Do you sleep with that thing?”

The object of our torture dropped from his mouth to fall innocently against the white polo he was wearing. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he barked. “In my daughter’s bed.”

My ears were still ringing, and I pulled one of my hands away from Landry so I could stick a finger in it to check for damage. “I think I might need medical attention.”

“Son, you are lucky I don’t jam this whistle so far up your ass that whenever you open your mouth, it’s the only sound that comes out!”

“Dad!” Landry gasped.

“I see where you get it from,” I told her. “This is a violent household.”

“You think I’m joking?” Coach asked, taking a threatening step forward.

“Considering your daughter threatened to feed someone his balls? No.”

That took some of the heat out of Coach’s fire as he glanced quickly at Landry. “He deserve it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Coach nodded, proud, then switched his stare to me, going irate once more.

“Dad. Stop.” Landry was plaintive as she crawled over the mattress toward him. “How did you even know he was here?” She wondered. “What time is it?”

Straightening off the bed, I swiped my phone off the nightstand to look at the screen and winced when I saw it was four thirty. “I planned on leaving before you got up for practice,” I said, sheepish.

Coach’s displeasure permeated the room. “Is that why you parked your car in my driveway?”

I made a face. “I’m not parking my Vette on the street for some drunk bozo to hit and run.”

“This ain’t the ghetto,” Coach bitched.

Like that matters. “My Corvette deserves better than street parking,” I bitched back.

Landry groaned and switched on the bedside lamp. “He’s a horrible car snob.”

No. I just had taste. “How dare you side with him at four in the morning?”

“Young lady, where are your pants?” Coach roared as he looked at Landry standing there in the Aerosmith tee.

“I was sleeping.” She defended.

Coach swung toward me, eyes sweeping over what I was wearing—which was boxer briefs.

With an aggressive sound, he rushed around the bed, grabbing my ear and twisting.

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