Most Valuable Playboy

by Lauren Blakely

  I laugh and shake my head. “Actually, I’m not. And I hope you can respect that. I love you, man, and I don’t want to lose your friendship, but I can’t take a chance on her slipping through my fingers. So, I hope you approve, and I’m telling you first, but I want to let her know, and I’m planning on making it crystal clear.”

  He takes a deep breath. “What’s your plan?”

  “That’s where I need you most. There are a few details I need you to oversee. Maybe Holly, too.” I quickly outline what I have in mind. “I want her to know how much she means to me. Will you help me?”

  He stares at me with intense brown eyes, as if he’s hunting for the truth in my face. “You’ll treat her right?”

  I nod. “Like a queen.”

  “You’ll be good to her?”

  “Every day.”

  “You love her?”

  “More than I love football.”

  He shakes his head, amused. “I never thought the day would come.”

  But that day is here. “I was bracing for you to give me a hard time,” I say with a relieved sigh. “You were pretty pissed after the auction.”

  He holds up a finger. “Correction. I was pissed when I thought you hadn’t told me what was going on. Now you’re telling me, and I appreciate it.”

  “So you don’t think I’m just your dickhead, playboy, asshole friend who doesn’t deserve your sister?”

  He laughs as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You’ll always be a dickhead and an asshole, but you’re my friend, and you’re a good guy. If you’re telling me that the sun rises and sets with my sister, then you damn well better go get your woman.” He shoos me off. “Get out of here and take care of that phone call.”

  When I arrive at the hotel, I call Violet and invite her to the game tomorrow. “Please tell me you can make it.”

  Her voice is cool, like she’s holding back emotion. “You want me there? As your fake girlfriend? I don’t understand why when Ford made it clear we were over.”

  “Ford handles my business. He doesn’t handle my heart. There are things he doesn’t know.”

  “And you don’t want to tell me those things now?”

  I move the phone away from my ear and stare at the picture of her on the screen. “No. I want to see your face. I want to see you in person. I want to tell you in person. The whole truth. Like I told the coach.”

  She sighs heavily.

  I can’t let her get away. “I don’t want you there as my fake girlfriend. I want you there as you. As my Violet. Okay?”

  She takes a beat.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I do.”

  “Please come.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  When she hangs up, I text Jones and tell him to gather the guys. I grab something for Rick that I picked up at the store on the way over, a little gift for Jones, then an item I snagged from the front desk. I drop them in a plastic bag from the hotel. Ten minutes later, I meet them in Jones’s room.

  They’re assembled, parked in chairs around the table.

  “To what do we owe the honor of this impromptu team meeting?” Jones asks.

  I place my palms together. “Gentlemen, we are going to cut Harlan’s hair tonight.”

  Harlan sits up straight, his hand shooting to his long hair. “Blasphemy. What are you talking about?”

  “Dude, we’re winning,” Rick adds.

  I reach into the bag and toss him a pack of Big Red. “Time for cinnamon gum tomorrow.”

  Jones smirks. “Let me guess. You have new socks for me next.”

  “You know it,” I say, dipping my hand into the bag and tossing him a pair of my own freshly cleaned socks.

  “What in the ever-loving hell?” Harlan asks in his drawl.

  Jones stands up and taps Harlan’s skull. “You can’t figure this out?”

  Awareness dawns on him. “Ohhhhh.” Harlan looks at me. “You fucking horndog.”

  I shrug and hold my hands out wide. Had I broken the pact before we clinched, I might have felt worse. But I don’t, for many reasons. “Guys, we don’t win because of rituals. We win because we play like a team. You guys have had my back all season, and I’ve had yours. But we don’t win because of smelly socks, or pink bubblegum, or uncut hair.”

  “Or you not getting your dick wet,” Jones mutters.

  I smirk. “Exactly. We win because of how we play, and how we play together. As you can surmise, I broke my superstition. So, the way I see it, you three can step out on the field tomorrow doing what you’ve always done this season. Or you can have my back, and start a new ritual with me. Like a team.”

  Jones pumps his arms at his sides and grinds his pelvis. “Cooper can’t keep the snake in the cage, boys. And if the snake is out, the socks are clean, the King of the Jungle’s hair gets cut, and the gum is a new flavor.”

  We put our fists together and knock as a foursome.

  Harlan sighs. “Since Violet’s not here, which one of you assholes is going to cut my hair?”

  The three of us shake our heads.

  “Seriously? You’re all too chicken to cut hair?”

  “If you have clippers, I’ll give you a buzz cut,” Rick says, rubbing his hand over his own short hair. “But fair warning. I’d probably slip and shave your eyebrows too.”

  Harlan sighs. “Thanks, but no thanks, Barber Rick.”

  “Wait,” Jones says, grabbing his phone. “I have an idea. I saw Jillian here earlier.”

  We all make obscene gestures in his direction. He doesn’t care, though, since he’s convincing the team publicist to play stylist for the night. Moments later, she arrives with a cheery smile on her face.

  “Edward Scissorhands at your service,” she says as she marches into the room.

  She wets Harlan’s hair and snips off a few inches as I tell them the rest of the plan for tomorrow. Jillian coos and says she can’t wait.

  I can’t, either.

  35

  Some say the games you play after you clinch are meaningless.

  I say there are no meaningless games. I’d like to think the fifty thousand fans at our stadium, and the millions watching the Thursday night game of the week, would agree. Our final bout is against a team with a losing record, the St. Louis Thunderbolts. But they don’t play that way. They play tight and tough and close.

  We do, too. Rick chews the Big Red and kicks a field goal. Jones wears fresh-as-a-daisy socks and compiles seventy-nine receiving yards and two touchdowns, while Harlan, with his newly shorn locks, gets his feet in the end zone. As for me? Well, let’s just say that freeing the snake hasn’t hurt my game. I’m not perfect, not by any means. I fumble a ball, miss several passes, and get sacked twice. But I play well enough—like someone who can anchor a team for the next four years, which is exactly what I plan on doing.

  And when we win tonight, we lock down a 12–4 record for the regular season, and a stadium full of happy fans.

  I’m stoked for the victory, but that’s not what I want most to win tonight.

  Fortunately, one of the benefits of my position on the team is that the sports reporters usually seek me out first. Tonight, Jillian makes sure of it. As soon as the game ends and the media hits the field, Jillian sends Sierra, the reporter who emceed the auction, to interview me. The perfectly coiffed and polished redhead is working tonight for the network carrying the game and she’s exactly who I want to speak to right now.

  I steal a glance at the sidelines, hoping to catch a glimpse of Violet. But the field is too crowded, the stands too stuffed with fans. I can’t make her out, and I have to trust that Trent and Holly are doing their part, right next to my mom, who’s here, too. Their job? Don’t let Violet leave, and make sure she tunes into the post-game on her phone.

  Sierra fires off a few standard game questions, and I answer Crash Davis-style, then she switches gears. “And now, for the talk of the town. Word is you’re re-upping with the Renegades, and they’ve offered you a four-yea
r contract. Can you tell us more about that?”

  I flash a smile as I answer. “I couldn’t be happier to stay, and none of this would be possible without an owner like Jasper Scott, who’s committed to putting the best team on the field, and to Mike Greenhaven, who knows exactly what to do with that team. I’m grateful to the owner and the coach and the entire organization for giving me the chance to stay on.”

  In my peripheral vision, Jillian motions to Sierra, giving her some kind of signal to ask the next question. “And is there any particular reason that you want to stay here in San Francisco?”

  I can’t help it. I grin like a man in love. I’m not sure what Violet will say to this public declaration. But I think I saw it in her eyes yesterday when I made love to her against the door. A look then that said she felt the same crazy beating in her heart that I felt in mine. That I still feel when I think of her.

  For now, I say goodbye to the Crash Davis school of media relations and speak from the heart. “It’s about a girl. Sometimes that’s what makes a man want to stay. I love the fans, I love the city, and I love that my family is here. But more than that, there’s someone in this town who I’m madly in love with.”

  Sierra’s green eyes light up. “Do tell.”

  I’m not going to confess on national TV all the details of how we started. All anyone needs to know is the girl they think I’m with is the girl I want. “I hope she wants to stay with me. I hope she wants to be with me for a whole lot longer than the contract I just signed.” Now I turn to the camera, since I’m not talking to Sierra anymore. I’m talking to the woman I hope is watching on her phone at the fifty-yard line.

  Behind me, teammates and reporters stream across the field, while fans cheer as they make their way out of the stadium. But my world is small now. My words are for one person only. “Violet, I’ve been falling in love with you since high school, and it’s not stopping. I fall more for you every single day. I want you to be mine, to keep being mine, every night. I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

  Sierra brings her hand to her heart and gasps. “That is so sweet. I love it when the quarterback falls in love with the hometown girl and stays with her.”

  “That’s exactly what I hope is happening in my life.” I glimpse a commotion on the sidelines. I don’t even try to rein in a smile as a sweaty, dirty Jones, still in his uniform, escorts Violet onto the field. That was his job. To go to security in her section, and then bring her to me.

  Violet has never looked prettier as she race-walks to me in her jeans and a Renegades sweatshirt. She’s smiling, and she looks as if she’s crying, too.

  She picks up the pace, but I won’t let her run to me. I need to run to her.

  “Thank you, Sierra. I need to see my girl.”

  And I go running to Violet, scooping her up and wrapping her in my arms. I gaze into her eyes and tell her face-to-face what I told the whole world. “I love you so much.”

  “Shut up,” she says, but she’s grinning.

  “You want me to stop talking?”

  “Never, but you’re crazy,” she says, sniffling as she cups my cheeks. “You’re so crazy, and I’m so in love with you, and you better have meant every word.”

  I laugh, and happiness floods every corner of my body. “Every. Single. Word.” I press my sweaty forehead to hers then pull back. “I am so ridiculously in love with you they’re going to need a new word for it. I want you to pick out pink polka-dot towels with me, and sing Miley Cyrus, and beat me in Madden, and I want you to be mine. I want you all the time, baby. When I said since high school, I meant it.”

  Tears stream from her eyes. She purses her lips then says in a soft, broken voice, “When I said since second grade, I meant it.”

  I blink, and now I might be officially stunned. “You did?”

  She nods. “I’ve had a crush on you forever, Cooper.” It hits me—that’s why she said she was worried I’d hurt her, because she’s been holding on to this feeling for so many years. “And I never thought this would happen. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re amazing.”

  “I think when you’ve been in love with someone your whole life, it’s just hard to imagine you’d be so lucky that he’d love you back.”

  “Get used to it. You’re getting lucky with me, and you’re getting lucky on a regular basis. And this love? It’s only growing stronger. I love you in every single way,” I say, planting kisses all over her gorgeous face, kissing away her tears.

  “It’s the same for me. I’ve been crazy about you forever, but since the auction, it’s gone into the stratosphere. I’ve loved getting to know you more, even when it was pretend. Because it was never pretend for me.”

  “You want to get to know me more tonight? There are some parts that you don’t know well enough, as far as I’m concerned.”

  She laughs and presses a kiss to my lips. “I want to get to know all of you so very well.”

  “How would you feel about coming over tonight? And spending Christmas with me? And going out with me on dates, and putting up with me when we lose, and putting up with me when we win, and letting me do whatever I can to help you with your business so I can support you, too, as you dream, create, love, and listen?”

  Her bottom lip quivers as she nods. “I would say you really ought to take me out of here very soon because there’s a good chance I’m going to do indecent things to you on the field.”

  “You better do indecent things to me,” I say, and then I kiss her under the lights of the stadium, and judging from the bright pops and flashes, this picture will be splashed all over social media in about thirty seconds.

  And it’s all real.

  It’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt, and I make sure she knows that as I kiss her like crazy in front of fifty thousand fans.

  36

  Tonight, I don’t need ice for my shoulder. I don’t need a beer to smooth over the moment. I don’t even bother with music. Once we’re back at my house, I take her to my bedroom, prepared to strip her naked.

  She gets in the first word, though. “Unzip your pants.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “I can do that,” I say, obliging her request.

  She pushes on my stomach, indicating I need to get my ass on the bed.

  I sit on the edge of the mattress, she drops down to her knees, wraps her hand around my dick, and sucks.

  “Holy fuck.”

  Instantly, my hands find their way into her soft hair, and I groan as she goes for it. There’s no playing around here. Violet doesn’t tease or toy. She takes me deep as she licks my cock, and I grip her head harder.

  “That’s so good, baby. Have I told you how much I like blow jobs?”

  She shakes her head, since her mouth is full. Quite full.

  “I’m not going to tell you, then. I’m going to show you by letting you do that to me as much as you want.”

  I can feel her try to laugh against my dick. Then all laughter ceases, and I give in.

  Heat pools in my groin as she licks and sucks. For a couple minutes, I let myself get lost in the feel—and the view. The woman I adore is on her knees, sucking me off as if it’s all she’s ever wanted. She makes me feel like a rock star, like a goddamn king as she introduces me to the joys of her mouth. But it’s too good, and the last thing I want is to come before she does.

  I stop her, gently tugging her face up. “I’m going to be blunt. I want to spend a ridiculous amount of my life with my dick in your mouth, but right now, I need you naked and under me.”

  “Have it your way.” She crosses her hands over each other and tugs off her sweatshirt. Soon she’s wearing nothing, and I get into the same outfit as well. She scoots back on the bed, and I climb over her.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I say, and then before she can protest—not that she would—I bring my face between her legs and kiss her sweetness.

  Instantly, she arches up into me. “Why can you do this to me and I can’t to y
ou? Are you going to have all these crazy rules again?”

  I laugh lightly. “No crazy rules. Except this one—you come first and, ideally, more than once before I do.”

  Really, how can she protest that? She doesn’t, because I make it worth her while. I lick and kiss and suck until she’s rocking against my mouth and coming on my lips.

  When her moans subside, I’m above her, my chest pressed to hers. “Hi.”

  She blinks open her eyes and smiles woozily. “Hi.”

  I kiss her neck, her throat, her ear, then meet her lips, whispering a kiss over them.

  She says my name again, and this time, her voice grows more serious. “Cooper.”

  “What is it?” I ask as I reach for a condom from my wallet. I snagged some from the hotel last night.

  “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. Are you?”

  “I am.”

  “Not that we have to go without. But I want you to know. Just in case.”

  I smile. “Just in case I want to feel you bare?”

  She smiles, too. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”

  I know what she’s getting at. There’s a code among pro athletes. Wrap it till you’re married. We’re warned of groupies who try to land pro-ball baby-daddies in all sorts of crazy ways. Violet’s not a groupie. She’s not some nutty chick trying to trap me. And this isn’t about the wear-a-glove code. It’s about trust and respect. It’s about who I’m giving my heart to.

  When I look into her bright eyes, I see everything I could ever want in this life. She’s not going anywhere, because I’m never going to let her get away from me. I don’t want more than the two of us right now, and I know she’s the only one for me for the rest of my life. I know she’ll be here when my career is over, because she was there before it started. She’ll be here, because I can see forever in her eyes.

  “I want to,” I say, and then I rest on my forearms, settle between her legs, and sink into her.

  We both moan at the same time.

  It’s so good. It’s so intense. It’s everything.

  I take my time, building and pushing and savoring. I watch her, cataloging every intoxicating reaction. I love the way her lips part, how she breathes out hard when I swivel my hips, how her face is the picture of exquisite torment when I thrust deep into her.