The Playbook

by Emilia Beaumont

  “Jacob? What happened out there?” she asked suddenly, killing my hard-on immediately. “Was that your father?”

  “No,” I said sharply, pulling away from her and walking to the fridge before she could finish dressing my cut. I stared inside the partially empty fridge, letting the cold air wash over me in an effort to regain my composure. “He’s a glorified sperm donor. He’s never been a father and never will be.” I pulled out two bottles of water and turned back to her.

  “I could tell you didn’t get along very well, that was obvious,” she responded as I turned back and set a bottle of water in front of her, drinking greedily from mine, mainly for something to do, something to keep my hands occupied. Why on earth was I talking about this?

  “We don’t,” I replied after a moment. I had tried over the years to keep my personal life just that, personal. My father had approached me countless times over the years, butting in at the worst possible moments. He was like a virus I couldn’t get rid of, but each time he reappeared I had to deal with him all over again. I thought I had made it clear to him that he wasn’t going to get anything from me. The last time he had tried, God what a clusterfuck that had been. “I hate him. If the world was rid of him, I wouldn’t shed a tear. And how he found out my address, again, is beyond me.”

  “You’re famous,” she said, her lips pulling to the side in a slight grimace. “People will come out of the woodwork to be associated with you. You would be surprised what’s available on the internet these days.”

  I had to agree with that. Literally my first month in professional football had thrust me into a spotlight that I probably wasn’t ready for, and suddenly I had more relatives and friends than I cared to mention. It had taken the help of a damn good agent to keep me from handing out all of my well-earned fortune to them. “Speaking of which, you got my flowers? My note?”

  She’d torn a piece of the label from her bottle of water and nodded.

  “I am, you know? Sorry, I mean. For everything, for not talking to you or coming to see you all those weeks, but especially for the other night. You shouldn’t have had to see that. But like you say, the crazies come out of the woodwork. And if I wasn’t clear before she and I were definitely not doing you know… ’cause we’re most certainly not. Don’t put your dick in crazy, like the saying goes,” I said with an awkward laugh but Lucia kept silent.

  “Who’d have thought I’d have my very own stalker? She’s persistent and obsessed. I thought it was cute at first, following me everywhere around the facility, popping up at training like a love-struck puppy; it boosted my ego, I guess. But then it got creepy, you know? Like last night…”

  Even though Lucia knew that Izzy was batshit crazy, I still wanted to make it clear to her that women like that who forced themselves into my life meant nothing to me. “And then shit, that thing I said to you about your dad. I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want you to leave again.”

  She nodded and hope started to swell in my heart. Would she forgive me?

  “You know, you should probably get a restraining order.”

  “I will,” I said and took a step closer, edging around the kitchen island towards her.

  “And I don’t mean just one. I don’t want anything to happen to you…”

  That made me smile. “I promise, I will. It’s about time I cut him out of my life for good, too. He was not and is not a very nice man,” I finally said, figuring I needed to give her something so she would be satisfied with what had happened out there. “The best day of my life was when I could walk away from him and no longer be under his control.”

  Lucia didn’t say anything for a moment, and I watched as she climbed off the stool she had been sitting on and walked over to me, closing the gap. She carefully placed her arms around my waist as she hugged me to her. “I’m sorry, Jacob,” she replied. I let out a pent-up breath and threw my arms around her, burying my face into her hair. Though she was only giving me a hug, I felt like she understood my need not to talk about it. The pain of my childhood was not a topic that I readily liked to discuss.

  “So, did you like them, my flowers?” I asked, struggling to steady the emotion in my voice. I had felt the need to do something after the awkwardness of our conversation last night at the stadium and then later when she’d turned up and witnessed me throwing Isabella half-dressed out of my house. The need to let her know that I wasn’t going to stay completely away from her had intensified. I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to do about her being the owner’s daughter.

  “I did, and they were lovely. Maybe next time don’t send them to the house, though,” she said with a slight wince, pulling away from me.

  “Oh shit, your father saw? Did he see the note? Fuck, I’m so stupid.”

  “No, I mean yes, he did, but no you’re not stupid. It’s okay, I covered for you.”

  “So he doesn’t know?”

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure you’re not the only person out there with the initials J.M.”

  I let out a relieved breath. We were still in the clear. For now.

  “It’s why I came over, though. Want to get some brunch with me, so we can talk?”

  “Brunch with you would be awesome,” I grinned, already thinking about what we were going to do afterwards, if I had my way. I planned to spend the rest of the morning in bed with her. Then I would be a beast on the practice field that afternoon, knowing that everything was okay between us. God yes, I loved that plan.

  I leaned in close, my hands on her arms, and stole a kiss. Not really caring about the pain or the swelling of my lip. I was gentle and it was over much too quick; I didn’t want to ruin the moment by getting too hot and heavy. She wanted to talk, so that was what we were going to do. There would be time enough later for everything wicked I had running through my mind. But for now it was important that I did what she requested. I wanted to show her I could be more than what my cock could provide. I let her go and stepped back. The light in her eyes was bright, and she nibbled at her lip that I’d just kissed. “We should go,” she said, a little breathless. I nodded; we had to go before I changed my mind.

  “Will you grab my keys over on the counter? I’ll be right back. Just want to change. We can take my car; I know just the place,” I called to her as I quickly ran towards the stairs. In super quick time, like a superhero instantly shedding his clothes to don his costume, I changed out of my workout clothes into a pair of casual but respectable shorts and a polo shirt. With a glance in the bathroom mirror, I made sure the cut on my lip hadn’t busted open before jogging back down to the first floor. It was knitting together slowly. I grinned regardless. This was what I needed, time spent with her. We’d sort out what we were going to do, how we were going to proceed with her father looming over us, and then we’d get to the good stuff.

  As I rounded the corner, I saw that she was holding something small in her hands. “You ready?”

  “Jacob,” she said, holding up the book she was looking at. “What’s this?”

  Shit.

  My world imploded.

  No, not now.

  I felt the grin slide from my face as I recognized the offending playbook in her hands, forgetting that I had stuffed it in my pocket after yesterday with the plan to burn it at the first opportunity. But I had a habit of dumping all of my pocket’s contents into the new bowl by the door when I arrived home in the evenings, making sure that I kept everything together and that I could find my keys easily. Fuck. Damn that black book. Had she read the contents? I would have to talk fast to explain… The entire thing was damn ridiculous, and I’d wanted to get rid of all the things that others had written about her.

  “I, um nothing,” I stammered, the cogs of my mind sticky with molasses. They wouldn’t work, how the fuck was I going to explain this? I walked towards her, my hands up in submission, hoping she wouldn’t bolt. She bit her lip and flipped the open book around, hurt registered all over her face as she jabbed at the entry with her n
ame on it. Dammit!

  “My name is in here, with a big X over it. Care to comment on that one?”

  “Let me explain, Lucia… this is just like Izzy, a simple misunderstanding. You let me explain that one, let’s sit down and talk. I’ll tell you everything,” I pleaded, reaching for the book. She was much more than what that damn book said. I didn’t want her for any bet anymore, I wanted her because she was Lucia, and she kept me on my toes. She made me feel worthy for a change. She pulled it out of my grasp and tucked it in her pocket out of reach.

  “All this time I wondered why you had taken such an interest in me, and now I know.”

  “Please, no, it’s not like that. If you’d just let me explain,” I pleaded, reaching for her now. The hurt in her eyes was tearing my heart in two. “You are fucking amazing. The guys who wrote those comments didn’t even know the real you.”

  “So where are your comments?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, tears glimmering in her eyes. It made me feel like pond scum, no, even worse than that. I never wanted to hurt her. “What were you going to write? ‘An easy lay if you are nice to her’? Was that it? ‘Cheap date; buy some food for her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear and she’ll get her kit off for you’?”

  “Hell, no,” I said firmly, “I don’t think you understand how I feel about you.”

  “Then why do you have it?” she shouted.

  “I was going to—”

  “You were going to what? Work through the rest of the fucking book? God, you’ll have no bedpost left at this rate, there must be hundreds of names in here. It’ll be whittled down to a stick!” Her eyes widened as if she’d just realized something. “How do I even know what you said was true? That Isabella wasn’t here last night because her name is in here? I bet you don’t even have a stalker! I can’t trust a single thing that comes out of your mouth!”

  “Lucia, can you please let me explain? Let’s go to breakfast or brunch. I don’t care. Just anywhere so we can talk.”

  She looked at me, and I froze as I saw a tear roll down her cheek. Not tears! They made me feel helpless, wanting to give her the world to keep her from crying. Tears meant hurt, and I never meant to hurt her.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t want to talk anymore, Jacob. I knew better than to date players, and I went against my gut,” she finally said, hastily wiping away at her cheeks, as if her tears offended her. “You’re no different, you’re just another playboy player. I had hoped that you were something more, but, well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “Wait, it does matter,” I said as she brushed past me and headed for the door. “Please don’t do this. Wait a minute, Lucia, don’t go!” I said louder, partially angry that she wasn’t going to let me have my say and partially angry at myself for fucking up again. Hell, I needed her desperately and hadn’t realized how much until this moment. I couldn’t let her walk out of the house without an explanation. The problem was, if I told her the truth—everything, including the bet—she was going to fucking hate that explanation even more. I had been stupid, I had been childish, and I was about to lose the one thing that truly meant anything to me.

  “I love you!” The words came out on their own accord. But I knew they were true the moment they touched the air. With a hopeful look I waited for her to say something, to turn back and hop into my arms, maybe. But instead more tears flowed and she turned away.

  “Screw you, Jacob,” she shouted as she exited the house, slamming the door behind her. I stopped in the foyer, unsure of what to do. What more could I say to convince her? The entire morning was supposed to be much better than this, but in the span of a few moments, I had just lost everything once more. And she had the book.

  “Shit!” I yelled, screaming the word out into the empty house.

  20

  Lucia

  I rushed to the car and climbed in, closed the door behind me and locked it before feeling foolish for doing just that. It wasn’t like Jacob was going to pull the door off the hinges to stop me from leaving. I knew him well enough that he wasn’t that type of guy…

  Wait. Did he really say that he loved me? It didn’t matter; he had hurt me again. The evidence of that was in the damp streaks on my face. In one last desperate attempt to see if he cared, truly cared, I glanced back at the front door. But he wasn’t tearing down the steps following me. The door remained closed. He really didn’t care about me. I was just a conquest, the “unfuckable” woman in the book whom he could use as evidence to prove himself to his teammates.

  Starting the engine, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and drove away, wishing to God and everyone else that I had listened to my dad all those years ago and stuck to my rule. Then I wouldn’t be in so much pain right now.

  I remembered the conversation he and I had had when I was sixteen and was starting to gain attention and looks from the players. “Don’t ever date any of these guys,” he had said with firm authority one day as we watched the team practice from his owner’s suite. “I mean it, Lucia. You probably think I’m overacting, trying to project my baby girl—and I know, I know, you aren’t a baby anymore; you’re turning into a young lady. But Lucia, they are not the type to settle down and raise a family. They will break your heart, and they won’t even look back. You will wish that you’d never laid eyes on any of them. So, please, for me honey, stay away from them, okay?”

  I’d agreed, wanting to make him happy, wanting to erase that worry line from his face. “Okay, Daddy.” At that he’d put his arm around me and pulled me into a sideways hug.

  He’d been so right. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest and stomped on.

  My phone rang and I picked it up, seeing Jacob’s number come across the screen. I ignored it and threw it down on the seat, letting it ring until my voicemail picked it up. I was not going to talk to him anymore. There was nothing that he could say to make this any better. I had the proof in the back pocket of my jeans. I could get them all fired if I showed it to my dad, but I knew going down that road would be going too far—doing something like that wasn’t me. I couldn’t be responsible for all those players losing their jobs. No, instead I would destroy it somehow, ’cause no woman in it deserved to be subjected to something that crude and distasteful.

  The words they’d used to describe me played over and over in my head as I drove aimlessly around. I wasn’t untouchable or frigid, I was just careful with who I gave my heart to. I didn’t mind a bit of flirting, and until Jacob, I had considered all those guys off limits. Mainly because of my promise to my father and my professional ethics. But obviously I’d been too cold, too distant, too “stuck up”, and no one had even been brave enough to even approach me. Except Jacob.

  I pulled up at a red light as my phone started ringing again. Grabbing it out of the seat, I pressed ignore and let it go to voicemail again. I wanted to chuck it out the window, but all of my contacts were in there, and I didn’t want to lose them. Instead I scrolled until I found Jacob’s contact information and deleted him from the list, feeling a small amount of satisfaction at doing so. I would start afresh and stay far away from players from now on.

  “That asshole! To do that, eugh! That was low. And here I was pushing you into it—encouraging you to go to him,” Cara said as she banged her fist upon the table.

  I polished off the last bite of my waffle with a sigh and pushed the plate away. Instead of the breakfast-brunch I thought I was going to have with Jacob that morning, I ended up going home, making mulch out of the flowers that had stared at me from the coffee table, then crawling into bed and crying my eyes out until I had felt like I had gotten it all out of my system. Then Cara had called, demanded that I got out of bed, and decided that she was going to take me out instead. Though it was late afternoon, she’d found an all-day breakfast café that served waffles and bacon and had picked me up from the house.

  As bravely as I could and without too many tears, I explained what had happened last night and t
his morning, even showing her the offending book that had ruined what had started out as a good day. She flipped through it and then threw it on the table, disgusted with what she had seen. “What are you going to do now? Maybe we should burn it. Or, even better, maybe you should give it to your father. That’ll teach those sons of bitches!” she said with scorn.

  “I don’t know, but I won’t do that,” I said honestly, fiddling with a napkin to keep myself occupied.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right… karma would turn around and bite you on the ass instead.”

  “Eugh, but how can I show my face around work now considering all the players are not coming to my appointments? And now that I know about that thing, I don’t want them to, either. They must all laugh at me behind my back. I’m so screwed.”

  “Have you given any thought to my offer?” she asked as the waitress brought our checks. “I found this perfect space near the coast that’s relatively inexpensive, and it’s in a great location. There are three offices, so if in the future we wanted to add another partner, we could. Plus there’s an apartment above it that I was thinking of taking, too. And, that’s not all… if you ever want to move out of that guest house, there’s a spare room with your name on it.”

  I bit my lip, thinking of what I would have to do in order for that to happen. I would have to go to my father and talk about what wasn’t working, admit that I was a failure even after he’d gone through all the trouble of creating the position for me. But at least the players and the coaches would be ecstatic to see me leave. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, looking at her.