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  With a Hitch

  A Sports Romance

  RC Boldt

  Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  1. Darcy

  2. Dax

  3. Darcy

  4. Dax

  5. Darcy

  6. Dax

  7. Dax

  8. Darcy

  9. Dax

  10. Darcy

  11. Dax

  12. Darcy

  13. Dax

  14. Darcy

  15. Dax

  16. Darcy

  17. Darcy

  18. Dax

  19. Darcy

  20. Dax

  21. Darcy

  Darcy

  22. Darcy

  23. Dax

  24. Darcy

  25. Dax

  26. Darcy

  27. Dax

  28. Darcy

  29. Dax

  30. Darcy

  Darcy

  31. Darcy

  32. Darcy

  33. Dax

  34. Darcy

  35. Dax

  36. Darcy

  37. Dax

  38. Darcy

  39. Dax

  40. Dax

  41. Darcy

  42. Darcy

  Darcy

  43. Darcy

  44. Dax

  45. Darcy

  46. Darcy

  47. Dax

  48. Darcy

  49. Darcy

  50. Dax

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of DITCHED

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Matty,

  No, I’m not going to forget about the chair. Yes, I still want one. Especially after this book. ;)

  P.S. I still love you more.

  A,

  You’re my favorite girl in the whole world and universe. Just 86 the hissy fits and we’ll be golden, okay?

  (Also, if you’re reading this, PUT THE BOOK DOWN UNTIL YOU’RE 18.)

  With a Hitch

  Copyright © 2019 by RC Boldt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by trademark owners. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features in any media form are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms are used in this work of fiction.

  Please note: Although the Jacksonville Jaguars are an actual NFL team, liberties were taken in order to accommodate the storyline.

  Visit my website at www.rcboldtbooks.com.

  Sign up for my mailing list: http://eepurl.com/cgftw5

  Excerpt from DITCHED Copyright @ 2018 by RC BOLDT

  Prologue

  Darcy

  TIAA Bank Field

  Jacksonville, Florida

  “Taking that first step after I catch the ball, I don’t even think. The noise around me fades. I tuck the ball in my hold and run with one thing on my mind: helping my team secure a win.”

  I once asked him about the game—what goes on in his mind while he’s on the field—and that was how he described it.

  For me, though, it’s far different. I don’t have a football tucked to my chest, and thousands of fans don’t crowd the stadium.

  Instead, I stand alone with my toes on the edge of the field carpeted in crunchy Bermuda grass. The sheer enormity of this place is overwhelming.

  Of course, it isn’t the only thing that’s overwhelming. I’m faced with one challenge. One feat.

  Forcing my nervousness aside, I turn my focus to center on what’s ahead of me.

  To the man standing on the fifty-yard line.

  1

  Darcy

  Hitched® Tip #1:

  Put the phone away. No one wants to feel like they’re second best to electronics.

  ♥

  Jacksonville, Florida

  “Please, Darce.” My sister flashes her best puppy dog eyes at me.

  “Ivy.” I drag out her name. “You know I’m slammed right now.”

  It’s the truth. My schedule is jam-packed, and I’ve been busting my ass to get Hitched off the ground. With my sociology and psychology degrees, I’ve created a company that takes matchmaking and date-coaching to the next level. My goal is to help people find love, but I do it in a more personalized way by meeting with them one-on-one and coaching them through the steps.

  Ivy, my foster sister—although I think of her simply as my sister since she’s the only family I’ve ever had—and I became entrepreneurs when she established her company, Ditched. We discovered she had a gift assisting others in flawlessly ending their relationships on good terms.

  “At least sit down and chat with him?” My sister’s expression is hopeful. “He’s a good guy. Plus, Leif already checked him out.”

  Leif is our tech guru who assists from behind the scenes. A hacker who’s turned down job offers for the government, he can manage to dig up the most elusive information on people.

  Ivy wants me to meet and work with her husband’s best friend, Dax Kendrick. The Jacksonville Jaguars—or the Jags, as locals refer to them—tout the NFL wide receiver as the pride and joy of this city now that Ivy’s husband, Becket Jones, former Jags quarterback and golden boy, passed the proverbial torch to him.

  I start to protest. “Ivy, I—”

  “Oh!” My sister palms her pregnant abdomen and winces dramatically.

  Alarmed, my eyes go wide. “Are you okay?”

  She exhales slowly before perking up. “I will be.” One dark eyebrow arches pointedly. “As long as you agree to take Dax on as a client.”

  Dammit. Conniving pregnant women are dangerous.

  With a pleading look, she adds, “Please, Darce. Do it for me. Do it for your”—she smooths a hand over her rounded belly protruding from the still sleek-looking black dress—“goddaughter.”

  Ugh. Why me? I’m certain unicorns and puppies will spontaneously perish if word gets out that I turned a deaf ear to a pregnant woman’s pleas. Which means I have no choice.

  I heave out a sigh. “Fine.”

  She claps her hands triumphantly. “Thank you.” Her hands drop to her lap, and she tips her head to the side to study me. Curiosity laces her tone. “I have to ask… Is there another reason you’re resistant to meeting with him? Aside from having a full schedule?”

  “Not at all,” I respond firmly. I do my best not to waver in holding our eye contact.

  “Okay.” She narrows her gaze. Quit eyeing me, Ivy. “He’s a good guy, though, Darce. I promise.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  It’s the truth. Her husband isn’t the type to hang around people who aren’t on the up-and-up.

  She appears thoughtful before nodding. “I get it. You two just haven’t had time to really get to know one another.”

  Aside from that moment before the wedding.

  I give myself a mental shake. No, no, no. Not going there. It was a rare moment of weakness.<
br />
  Nor will I even acknowledge what happened at the reception after Ivy and Becket left to catch their flight to Costa Rica for their honeymoon. That gets classified as the highest level of insanity.

  “Well, Becket’s going to be so relieved Dax will be in good hands with you.”

  I force a smile. “Yay.”

  Of course, she picks up on my lackluster response and peers at me, her blue eyes narrowed. “You’re working too hard.”

  “I’m not,” I protest tiredly. “I just want to be sure Hitched stays solid.” We both know that the two-year mark is crucial. I’ve nearly passed it, but I won’t feel like I’m truly in the clear until at least year three.

  Or maybe four…

  She regards me as though she’s reading my thoughts. “If it doesn’t, we’ll still be okay.” Her gentle tone makes me bristle. As if she knows how hard I’m working to ensure I don’t shame her with my failure.

  “It will, but I need to work hard at it.”

  Ivy lets out a long sigh before she straightens with an, “Ooh!” Watching her wrestle with getting out of the chair opposite my desk is impressive. “I need to use the restroom.”

  I offer a little wave. “Have fun with that.”

  Ivy waddles through my office doorway and calls over her shoulder, “Dax will be in to see you at four thirty.”

  Horrified, I stare after her. “Today?”

  Please say tomorrow, please say tomorrow, please say to—

  “Today.” Her voice fades as she walks down the hall.

  Freaking hell.

  I bury my face in my hands. I have to get my shit together. I can’t let this mess with my head just because Dax and I had a moment over two years ago.

  I’d missed meeting him at gatherings multiple times prior to my sister’s nuptials. I’d been so insanely busy trying to get my fledgling business off the ground, our paths just never crossed.

  Until the day of the wedding.

  —THEN—

  The setting sun behind Becket and Ivy’s home serves as a stunning backdrop this evening. While Pennie, the makeup artist, puts the finishing touches on my sister, who’s absolutely stunning in a simple white ankle-length sheath dress, I make my escape under the guise of checking on everything downstairs.

  In truth, I selfishly want a reprieve. No way would I dare to admit it to my sister, but I feel ensnared in a sticky web of melancholy and was mourning the end of how our friendship had been since high school. With Becket in the picture, even as happy as it makes me that they’ve found each other, I can’t deny the tinge in my chest. It’s no longer just Ivy and me against the world.

  I stare out the large window overlooking the backyard, where the ceremony will take place. Most of the guests—nearly forty people since they wanted to keep it more intimate—are either seated or standing around chatting happily.

  I should be one of them. But right now, I need to give myself a little breather. Then I’ll happily stand beside my sister as she pledges her love and life to her amazing man.

  But right now… I inhale deeply, let my eyes fall closed, and think back on one of my favorite memories with Ivy to help boost my mood.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  The deep, masculine voice catches me by surprise, the silky tone and the slight huskiness sending shivers skittering down my spine. I turn slowly, a part of me hesitant as I wonder if the man’s outward appearance will match the sexy timbre of his voice.

  Once I face him, I barely manage to stifle a gasp. Skin the color of the darkest brown sugar, eyes a burnished golden brown, and a body exuding strength and power merely based on the way his muscles strain beneath his tailored button-down shirt. I rake my eyes along broad shoulders and back up to his intense and captivating eyes.

  If I thought he was handsome as hell by that alone, he knocks me on my ass when his lips part in a slow smile.

  God Almighty, this man and his dimple.

  Seeing this man’s face on TV or on a magazine cover is one thing. In person, however, his grin paired with that infamous dimple so many women swoon over? He’s a force to be reckoned with.

  “Dax Kendrick.” He holds out a hand to me, and his boyish grin is at odds with the unadulterated manliness he exudes. “Best friend of the groom.”

  The simple way he introduces himself—as though his face isn’t well-known for his Gatorade or Old Spice advertisements, let alone for being a celebrity wide receiver for the local NFL team—endears me to him.

  “Darcy Cole.” As soon as I introduce myself, recognition flickers in his gaze. “Best friend and sister of the bride.”

  As I place my hand in his, I can’t help but acknowledge how he doesn’t offer one of those weak handshakes. It’s a legitimate one: firm but not strangling.

  When his large hand envelops mine, it provides an odd sense of comfort that settles over me. Once he releases his grip, I instinctively curl my fingers into my palm as if to savor the feeling.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Darcy Cole.”

  “Likewise.”

  He slides his hands in his pants pockets and cocks his head to the side. “Avoiding the crowd?”

  I twist my lips ruefully and glance around before lowering my voice, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Honestly? I’m having a bit of a pity party.”

  His eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and interest. “Really?”

  Internally, I roll my eyes at myself and shift my attention to the window, focusing on the scene in the backyard. “It’s terrible. And I’ll get over it. It’s just tough letting someone else step up to the plate.” I swallow hard, and my voice fades, sounding smaller. “It’s been me and Ivy against the world for so long…”

  He takes a step closer. “Beck’s a great guy, Darcy. I promise you that.” He draws in a deep breath. “But I get it. When the dynamics of a relationship changes, it’s tough. Opening up a new chapter…”

  We stand in comfortable silence, both lost in thought. The touch of his fingers startles me, and I jerk my eyes down to the hand at my side as he grasps it in his warm, comforting grip. I find myself mesmerized by the contrast of his darker skin against my own.

  “It’ll work out.” His gentle murmur washes over me, enveloping me in an embrace all its own.

  Instantly, I know one thing for certain. He’s the kind of guy we ladies often discuss, alluding to the type of men who are either fictional or so utterly elusive that only a select few females manage to snag one for themselves.

  Dax Kendrick is a genuinely good man.

  —PRESENT—

  I toy with my pen, caught up in my thoughts regarding the Jags star wide receiver. Each time I’ve noticed tabloid photos of him with women, those females had curves galore and darker complexions. He’s never once been photographed with a woman like me: tall, blond, thin, and fair-skinned. He prefers his women curvier with darker skin, and I can’t fault him for that. We all have our preferences.

  And I know, as sure as the sun will rise the next day, a man like Dax will eventually find that special lady and enjoy his own happily ever after.

  I just never expected to be the designated person to help that process along.

  2

  Dax

  “No.”

  “Come on, man,” my best friend complains.

  “No.” I grind out the word as we run along the well-packed sand of Jacksonville Beach. We’re on the last leg of our route and heading back to his home in Neptune Beach.

  The Florida sun beats down on us mercilessly at just shy of seven in the morning, though the intermittent gusts of wind help battle the heat and humidity.

  No one’s out at this time of morning, aside from those passed out on the beach after a night out barhopping. A few die-hard fishermen sit on the nearby pier, but otherwise, we’ve got the beach to ourselves with no one paying us any mind.

  “Darcy’s great at what she does. Her company has really picked up, and Ivy told me her sister’s matched some pretty big couples
.”

  “Like who?”

  Not that I’m considering it. But I am curious. God knows, witnessing my best friend so nauseatingly happy with his wife, Ivy, has kickstarted my interest in seeing if I might be able to find my own Mrs. Kendrick.

  “For one, that celebrity chef dude who’s always on TV. She matched him with his wife. And they’ve already got a baby on the way.”

  “The chef who was always with a different woman?”

  Becket tosses a glance in my direction, his eyes masked by the dark sunglasses. “Until Darcy found him his match.”

  “I don’t know,” I hedge. “It’s awkward enough since Ivy helped me that one time.”

  That had been nothing short of a miracle. Kayla gave me no choice but to “ditch” her when she wouldn’t retract her claws from me for anything in the world. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d been into me for me. Instead, it was clear she was only interested in my money and the kind of lifestyle it could offer.