Play Hard: Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Abbi Hemp

  “You know me so well, huh?”

  “Glass of wine?” he asked.

  “No, not tonight. You go ahead.”

  “I’m back to no alcohol.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Coach said I might be let back in for the playoffs.”

  “That’s big news,” I said.

  “That’s off the record.”

  “You’re supposed to say that before you give the information,” I teased, then added. “And there’s your look.”

  “What’s my look?” he asked then took a drink of water.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe your I’m-bored-with-this-woman look?”

  He grinned, his eyes lighting up.

  “That’s not it.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head then proceeded to eat his salad. I did the same. After a few minutes of silence, I spoke up, wanting to dig more information out of him.

  “Are you excited about making the playoffs?”

  “I am,” he said. “It means a lot to me. Beyond the money.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m surprised they suspended you so long.”

  “No one likes me on this team,” he admitted.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, even the Coach has it out for me.”

  “Do you think it’s their fault or is it connected to your behavior?”

  “Ouch,” he said then chuckled. “Tough hitting questions from the journalist at our romantic dinner.”

  “I’m just making conversation,” I lied.

  Over the years, I’d learned ways to get sports players to open up and reveal themselves to me. It was different with Tony because we’d slept together and were obviously physically attracted to each other.

  He pushed his salad bowl back then motioned for our main course. I wondered how many women he had treated to such a dinner – and where he took them afterwards.

  Did I really want to be involved with someone like him? Bad boy players rarely turned their lives around, always chasing their next piece of tail. Was Tony different?

  “You’re quiet tonight,” he said while cutting his steak.

  “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Good or bad?”

  He popped a piece of meat in his mouth.

  “It’s not that simple,” I said then took a bite of my own.

  “Everything is simple when you boil it down to the basics.”

  “Must be nice to live in your world.”

  We made eye contact across the table. I saw how the romantic quality of the meal might get most women to spread their legs for such a powerful and sexy man.

  “It’s not bad,” he said. “But it’s not all good either.”

  I wanted to press him for more of the things he considered bad in his life, but I backed off, content to enjoy the meal with him as the stars in the sky shined down on us.

  We made small talk the rest of the dinner. Both of us declined desert. As the two young men cleared the table, he stood up and walked around the table to me, stretching out his hand.

  I wrapped mine in his and let him help me to my feet. Here it comes, I thought as we walked across the field to the locker room. He’s going to make a move. Am I going to stop him?

  As we reached an opening at the far end of the field, he whistled smugly. Does he assume I’m going to give it up to him again? Am I? While I wanted to fuck him, it would be better to wait while we worked out our true feelings for each other. Would he understand?

  In the locker room where I’d first met him, he stopped and turned to step in front of me. Our eyes met again. I saw how women seeing them would melt, but I held firm.

  “I’m not just someone to screw, you know. We need to talk about our relationship.”

  “That’s not all I want,” he said.

  Looking into his hazel eyes, I believed him with all my heart and soul.

  “What do you want?” I asked, studying his face carefully.

  “To be happy again. You make me feel good to be alive.”

  Our bodies pressed together and our lips met. I pulled back, my heart beating so quickly.

  “I need to go,” I said.

  “Really?” he snapped, shaking his head. “I went through a lot to put this night together, especially since you couldn’t do it last night.”

  “And you expect me to suck your dick now or something?”

  His anger fueled mine.

  “No, but come on, this is romantic as hell.”

  “It was before,” I said, staring him down.

  “Why do you have to play like this?”

  “I’m not playing. I need to know where we stand with each other before we move forward.”

  He turned his head and yelled, “Fuck!”

  I stepped back, never having seen his temper up close before. When he slammed his fist onto the metal door of a locker, I jumped back in surprise. Before I had a chance to say anything, I saw Coach Tom walk into the room, followed by Keith Alderman.

  “What the hell is going on in here?” the former asked.

  Keith stood next to him, shaking his head with a grin perched on his face.

  “Nothing, Coach,” Tony said. “We were just leaving.”

  “I thought I told you not to come to the stadium until I said it was okay.”

  “I know, Coach, but…”

  “But nothing,” he yelled then turned to me. “And who might you be? Some damn football groupie?”

  “I’m a reporter for the Denver Post,” I said proudly.

  “Get the hell out of here!” he yelled, pointing to the door. “What the hell are you doing bringing her in here, Tony? I’ll talk to you about this later.”

  I slinked toward the door we’d entered. Tony jogged over and put his hand on the small of my back.

  “It’s okay,” he said in a consoling voice.

  “It’s not okay,” I snapped, moving my body so his hand fell away.

  Keith laughed behind us. Tony turned to lunge at him, but I took his hand and dragged him into the hallway.

  “Take me home,” I said furiously.

  He did. I was silent the whole way.

  FOURTEEN

  Andrea

  The next day, he called me three times before I finally answered.

  “What?” I asked. “I’m at work.”

  “I want to make up for last night.”

  “Yeah? How? Take me to your favorite strip club?”

  “Ow,” he said. “You’re still mad?”

  “A little bit. I’m not just a piece of meat.”

  “No, you’re not. I told you that you’re special.”

  “Words are easy. Actions are hard.”

  “Let me take you to dinner again tonight.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m super busy.”

  That wasn’t a lie. Scott had me working on five stupid stories plus the one on Tony.

  “We can talk.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. About us.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that story your boss wants you to run. What if I let you do it?”

  “Let me do it?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I sighed.

  “Fine. We can have dinner and talk.”

  “Sweet,” he said. “I’ll pick you up around six at your house. That work?”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Would you please stop blowing up my phone now?”

  He laughed.

  “My mission is accomplished, so yes.”

  “Talk to you later, Tony.”

  “Bye.”

  I ended the call then sat back in my office chair to stare up at the ceiling. My spirits boosted, I stood and walked over to Scott’s desk in the far corner. He glanced up at me and quickly closed the browser window as I stopped next to him.

  He looked up at me, annoyed.

  “What’s up, Andrea?”

  “About that story on Tony Carlotti…”

&
nbsp; “Is it done yet?” he interrupted.

  “Not yet, but it’s going well. You need to give me a bit of time.”

  “As long as it tears that smug bastard down a notch or two, it’s fine.”

  “What do you have against him?” I asked.

  He tilted his head as he stared at me.

  “Why are you protecting him?”

  “You think I’m protecting him?”

  “You’ve been dragging your feet on this story long enough.”

  “I do a good job, and that takes time.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “It’s not like many people even read the newspaper anymore.”

  You’re the problem with journalism, I thought but kept my mouth shut.

  “I’ll have it for you soon,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it for now, I guess. Don’t sneak up on me anymore, either.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know what I mean. Walking up on me like you did.”

  “Okay,” I said, not wanting to start a fight with him.

  I returned to my desk and read the story on Tony I’d written so far. It lacked depth and any sense of objectivism, but it wouldn’t do too much damage to his career. I printed off a copy to show to him later that evening. Was Tony a better man than I realized? I was ready to find out.

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  Right at six o’clock, he picked me up in the Maserati again. I hated to admit it to myself, but I’d come to enjoy riding around in his luxury vehicles. They made me feel important, which scared me.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going this time?” I asked after climbing in the passenger seat.

  “Maybe,” he said, grinning at me. “What’s that?”

  “The story I wrote. I tried to make it bad enough so I don’t get in trouble with Scott, but not bad enough that you hate me.”

  “I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he said.

  I smiled.

  “You can read it at the restaurant.”

  “Can’t wait. We’re going to this small Italian place I know.”

  “House of Italy?”

  “Yeah. You know it?”

  “My favorite restaurant,” I said truthfully.

  They were my go-to comfort food.

  “Interesting,” he said as he pulled out of the driveway. “My parents own the place.”

  “Get out of here,” I said. “Now that is something I should put in the story.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t know that,” he said. “Are you sure you’re a journalist?”

  “Apparently not a good one,” I said. “Scott is always on my case.”

  “You know about him, right?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve not been working there a long time.”

  “Oh, wow. You probably don’t know.”

  “What?” I asked, more curious than ever.

  “He got busted for watching porn on a work computer a few years ago. I’m surprised he’s still working at the paper.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s crazy. I can’t believe I didn’t hear about it.”

  “They kept it quiet.”

  “Yeah, his uncle is the publisher, but I thought the stories were just rumors. You’re saying he actually did it?”

  He nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the road ahead.

  “I think that’s why he hates me. Whenever he tried to interview me, I brought it up. Some anonymous blogger wrote about the story when it happened.”

  “Wow,” I said again. “I’m stunned.”

  “He’s probably having you do the story on me to make it seem more believable or whatever. To be honest, I don’t care. What they say in the newspaper doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. “This explains earlier today.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I went to talk to him about the story on you, and he closed his browser and was acting shady.”

  “Sounds like him. If his uncle wasn’t publisher, I doubt he would still have a job.”

  I nodded, the information sinking in as he pulled into the parking lot next to House of Italy.

  “Did you eat here a lot growing up?” I asked.

  “More than I wanted, but I try to visit them a few times a month at least.”

  “I would be here every day if they were my parents. Although you probably get tired of it if you have the same thing every day.”

  “You nailed it,” he said. “With food and everything else in life.”

  After he parked, we went into the restaurant. He took me back to the kitchen to meet his parents.

  “This is Andrea.”

  “Ah, this is your woman-friend?” the old man asked.

  His wife elbowed him.

  “We’re good friends,” I said with a smile.

  As his father laughed, his big belly covered by a white apron shook.

  “You have room for us tonight?” Tony asked.

  “For you, always,” his mom said, walking over and pinching his cheeks.

  He hugged her briefly before taking me back out to the dining room. I was impressed when he pulled out my chair for me again.

  “So you can be a gentleman,” I teased.

  “It’s hard around you,” he said as he sat down across from me at the square table covered with a black and white checkered table cloth.

  I stared at his face partially covered by the bouquet of flowers in middle of the table.

  “Yeah?” I asked softly.

  He nodded.

  “I’m glad we’re getting a chance to talk tonight. You’ve been on my mind since…”

  “The parmesan chicken is the special tonight,” his mother said, cutting him off. “I highly recommend it.”

  “Sounds great,” I said, smiling politely.

  “I’ll take the same. Thanks, mama.”

  “Aww, how cute,” I teased after she walked away.

  “I love that woman,” he said.

  “That’s a good sign. I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately. And not just the story.”

  “It’s not just physical. I mean, you’re hot as hell, but there’s something about the way you talk to me, like you’re not going to let me get away with being an asshole.”

  “That’s right. And I’d expect you to be honest with me too.” I lifted the printed copy of my story on him. “You ready to read this?”

  “I don’t care about the story. You make the call. I trust your judgement.”

  “Wow,” I said, a bit stunned.

  His mother returned with a basket of buttery breadsticks with a bowl of marinara. She smiled then hurried away to give us our privacy.

  “They’re not very busy tonight,” I noted then took one of the breadsticks and bit off the end.

  He frowned.

  “There’s a boycott going around on Facebook and Twitter. It’s hurting them bad.”

  “What? That’s crazy. This place has been around forever.”

  “I know. It’s not fair, but your boss and his buddies have been starting trouble for them because of me.”

  “That’s got to stop. I’ll go talk to the publisher.”

  “No. I don’t want you to get into trouble over it. This is my problem.”

  “Maybe I’ll sneak something into the article about this place.”

  I glanced around the warm and comfortable dining room.

  “Just don’t get in trouble.”

  “Trouble is my middle name,” I said, turning back to him with a grin.

  “Maybe that’s what attracts me to you.”

  “That would be a first. Most men hate my honesty and attitude. They do, however, love my body.”

  “It’s a fine body,” he said.

  I took another bite of the heavenly breadstick.

  “Mmm. This is so good.”

  He smiled. The rest of the dinner went wonderfully, both of us opening up to each other. At the end, his mother insisted we share a plate of he
r famous Tiramisu. I would need to exercise an extra hour or two to make up for it, but I wasn’t able to resist an Italian mother trying to feed me.

  FIFTEEN

  Tony

  After dinner, I did not want the night to end.

  “Can I show you something?” I asked.

  She laughed.

  “I’ve already seen it. Thumbs up.”

  “Glad to hear, but I meant a place.”

  “Oh? A good place for me to pay you back?”

  “While that would be great, I’ll take a raincheck. It’s somewhere important to me.”

  Her face became more serious.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Great.”

  I drove across the city to Lincoln High School, where I’d been a hero on the field and off for four years. Whenever I got down on myself, I liked to go there to look at the field. Memories would flash back in waves. They were some of the best moments in my life.

  Before the money and fame, I’d played the game for the sake of sportsmanship. There was a purity about playing high school football that I found hard to put into words. I wanted to show Andrea where I’d come from originally. She meant a lot to me, even beyond the physical.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” she said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  “Jocks think sometimes too.”

  “I know, I meant…”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupted. “I know what you meant.”

  I glanced over at her a moment, loving the way she had curled her hair that evening.

  “Watch the road, not me,” she said as if we’d been married for years already.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A few silent minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Lincoln High School. They usually locked the stadium at night, but me and a few of the other superstars had keys to get in whenever we wanted.

  “Lincoln High School, huh?” she asked, looking out the window.

  “I come here when I need to think. It’s a special place for me.”

  “You know, I actually followed you in high school.”

  “Get out of here,” I said. “You went here too?”

  “No, I went to St. Mary’s Catholic School for Girls, but my girlfriends and I always came here to watch your games.”

  “I would’ve never guessed.”