Filthy Player (A Rough Riders Novel Book 2)

by Stacey Lynn

  All I saw were muscled biceps and the planes of his firm stomach. That sweet, sweet V-muscle that popped above his hipbones and the thick trail of his blonde hair above his waistband.

  The man was dangerously sexy, and even upset, I wasn’t immune.

  “I care about you, Paige. I get you’re pissed I paid your dad’s bills without talking to you about it, but there’s nothing wrong with taking someone’s help, and I’ve got it to give.”

  “You should have asked.”

  “Would you have allowed it?”

  “That’s not the point.” I slapped the counter and spun, putting my backside to the countertop and glaring at him. “It’s my family. My responsibility. I get to decide how things are handled, not steamrolled just because you can. That’s not fair. I don’t need your glamour or your glitter. In some ways, this is no different than my mom.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re right, it’s not fair. You know what else isn’t fair? You’re gearing up right now to run, cataloguing in your sweet little mind all the things that’s wrong with us, why you don’t need me, and downstairs, we were just doing the fucking dishes and all I was thinking of was how fucking perfect you looked in my house and how much I want you here.”

  Wave after wave of shock slapped at me, like brutal oceans crashing into shore with every word he spoke, with the volume of emotion behind them. I stared at him, completely breathless.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, so you want to walk out of here and be pissed at me for taking care of what’s mine? You want to slam that door in my face again after all I’ve shown you about the man I am and how much you mean to me? Go right ahead.” He flipped his hand out toward his bedroom.

  Toward the door.

  And I knew he meant his front door. Literally and figuratively.

  It wasn’t what I wanted. At all.

  I shook my head. “Beaux—”

  “But you gotta know one thing.” He stepped in front of me, eating the space between us in one large stride, and glared down at me. “I love you, Paige. I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t see straight half the time, and even when I’m on the field, I’m thinking of you. No one has ever distracted me from the game. I can stand in front of you, right now, flat out giving you everything I have, all of me.” He punctuated his chest and his statement with his finger. “And I can tell you I don’t give a shit. For the first time in my life, I’ve found something, someone, I want more than football. I know you feel it too. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. I want to hear it.”

  I opened my mouth. Shut it.

  “And don’t lie to me,” he said, leaning down and bracing himself on the counter next to me. He caged me in, the heat of his anger and frustration rolling off him. Good God. People shouldn’t be this pissed off when they’re admitting they love someone. And was that what he’d done? I was having trouble thinking straight.

  “Beaux—”

  “I know you love me.” His gaze was knowing. Hot. Angry and filled with something else that looked like a mixture of wanting to scoop me up and throw me on his bed or choke the breath out of me.

  And God. He knew.

  He had heard me last night.

  All the fight left me in a forceful rush of breath. “I don’t like not being able to take care of him. I hate it. Hate it with every fiber of my being and I hate having to lean on people for it.”

  “That’s what people do when they love one another. It’s not a list to keep track of, Paige. I give to you when I can, and you give to me when you can. It’s us, leaning on each other, and trust me, babe, you don’t give to me in money, but you give yourself and that’s all I need.”

  His arms surrounded me tightly, no hesitation, he just pulled me into his body and held me while I whispered apologies.

  He was so warm. So damn safe and strong.

  And he was right. I loved him. Definitely. I’d still been keeping him at a distance, letting him close to me while keeping one hand out, firmly in place, so he didn’t get too close.

  I had to drop the hand and let him walk all the way in, or this was never going to work.

  I could keep him out and lose him. Or let him in and have something better than anything I’d ever imagined.

  Vulnerability sucked, but it was the only choice.

  I sniffed, fought back tears and pushed against his stomach. His hand was at my head and he gave me space, but not much.

  “You have my word, right now, I won’t make decisions like that without your input, but you can’t ask me not to help someone when I can, Paige. It’s not in me to avoid that when I have so damn much to give.”

  “I know.” I sniffed again. With tears blurring my vision, I gazed at him. So damn strong. “I wasn’t thinking of running. I just like space when I’m upset so I don’t say something stupid and regret it.”

  He arched a brow but stayed silent.

  “And sometimes,” I said, chuckling. “I still do. I would have gotten over it, I would have put all the pieces together you said, but sometimes I need to go through all the emotions before I get to the logic.”

  His steel blue eyes flickered back and forth between mine and then his hands slid to my cheeks. “Don’t run from me when you’re pissed. Let it out. I’d rather argue about it than watch you flee from me. Okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Now tell me what I want to hear.”

  My heart stalled and everything inside me cooled. “Beaux—”

  “Guarantee you right now, Paige, there’s nowhere else, no other time when you’ll ever be safer.”

  It didn’t feel safe. It felt like standing on the edge of a bridge, staring down into stormy waters that were your doom.

  But I’d opened the door. So with both feet, I jumped.

  “I love you, B—”

  It was all I got out before he stole the rest of his name from my breath with his mouth slamming down onto mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  PAIGE

  “What do you think of these flowers?” Shannon asked. She pointed to a photograph of a bouquet of beautiful and elegant white roses.

  We were at a floral shop looking for flowers for her wedding. While she and Powell weren’t getting married until spring when the season was done, Shannon was in full-planning mode.

  “Aren’t you getting married out at his farm?”

  “Ranch.”

  Tomato, to-mah-to. When I learned Oliver Powell lived in a small house in the middle of nowhere with horses, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

  “But it’s in the spring, right, and small?”

  “Yeah. Roses might be too formal.”

  I agreed. We flipped through the books the florist had provided and finally my finger landed on a beautiful spread. “What about these?”

  Shannon looked to where I pointed and gasped. “Ooh.”

  “These large alliums are gorgeous. If you do the alliums and a mixture of the roses or these lilies that could be really pretty, but still not so fancy.”

  She turned to me and grinned. “You and the other bridesmaid could carry the large alliums, and I could do the mixed bouquet.”

  Yeah, she’d asked me to a bridesmaid.

  That made me get drunk. Beaux and I weren’t just a pair, Shannon swept me into her family and included me in everything.

  In the last two weeks, Shannon, Oliver, Beaux, and I had gotten together for a few more dinners. I’d stopped in repeatedly to Stamped, and she’d come to my house one night when the guys were in Detroit playing an away game against the Lions. That night, Jillian Rudolph, wife to another Rough Rider, Danny Rudolph, had joined her as well.

  It’d seemed surreal. We watched an NFL game, in my childhood living room home, on a smaller than average flat screen television while my dad, who was now in a walking boot and flying through physical therapy, shouted at every play.

  I was friends with people in the NFL. I was dat
ing the best quarterback in the league.

  And every time I met someone on the team, I was floored with how normal they were.

  The season was half-over and they hadn’t lost once. Every week, the hype over another Super Bowl appearance grew louder, and the louder the chatter, the more serious Beaux became.

  It was sexy as hell. His intensity and focus and undying devotion to not only his job but his absolute love of the game, made me fall in love with him more and more every day.

  I was in love with Beaux Hale. Beaux Hale was in love with me. I still couldn’t even think the thoughts without blushing like a pre-teen with her first crush, but that’s essentially what Beaux was to me…my first real love.

  Today, Beaux had flown up to New York for an interview with some sportscaster named Curt Banner. He was coming home immediately afterward, arriving after midnight, and then early Saturday morning he was flying out again for a game in Tennessee.

  Shannon and I were shopping for flowers and then heading to Ride’Em Rough for dinner and to watch Beaux’s interview live. I hadn’t been back since I called Paulie and told him I wouldn’t be returning at all, and after he spewed off a small handful of half-meant insults, I’d felt like crap for not going in to at least see Hannah.

  But in truth, I hardly went anywhere. Jaxon was my new shadow, usually following me everywhere I went, and sometimes it felt more like a hassle to go out than it did to stay in. I hadn’t heard anything else about more photos. Nothing creepy, like a dead bird on my porch, had shown up. But there were days when Jaxon went more alert and Beaux hovered like a mama bird, and I knew they’d received more threats.

  I was staying out of it. I wasn’t burying my head in the sand. I was choosing to trust Beaux to take care of me like he promised. I trusted Jaxon to shoot anyone who looked at me funny, too.

  His presence, while terrifying and nerve-wracking at first, was now more like a very hot, solid security blanket.

  One Melanie was still trying to worm her way under to no effect.

  Poor thing.

  “Okay.” Shannon slammed the design book closed and stood up. “That’s done, then. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked. “I mean, this is only the first florist, and you don’t even know if they can do what you’re suggesting.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “You’re like, the calmest bride-to-be I’ve ever come across. It’s eerily scary.”

  “That’s because my wedding doesn’t matter. It’s just a formality. I already know my marriage to Oliver is going to be beautiful. He shows it to me everyday.”

  Whatever insecurities, as small as they were, I had about Beaux fluttered away like butterfly wings as Shannon spoke. We were way too early to even discuss marriage.

  But she was right. Beaux showed me every day and had since the night we met, how beautiful a life with him could be. It wasn’t the money. It was everything else he brought with him. Security. Love. Laughter. An extended family who accepted my dad and I just as we were.

  In short, Beaux gave me everything I’d ever dreamed of and much, much more.

  I was one lucky girl.

  ***

  “Hey, Hannah!” I threw my arms around her as we reached the table in her section. We were close enough to the bar so we could watch the interview when Beaux came on, far enough away to have some privacy in a booth. “How are you?”

  “Oh, you know me,” she said, hugging me back. “Same, same. Good to see you. Who’s this?”

  She glanced at Shannon with a cool look in her eye and I frowned. “Hannah, this is Shannon, Beaux’s sister. Shannon this is my friend, Hannah.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Shannon said.

  Hannah took her hand. “You too. Powell’s fiancée, right?”

  There was a tone in her voice that was friendly enough, but not the same excitement she usually had. “Hannah’s a huge Rough Riders fan,” I said to Shannon.

  Shannon winked at her. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Yes, well, only the lucky ones get them, I suppose.” She grinned at me. “I’ll be right back with your waters. Y’all want anything else to drink?”

  We gave our drink orders and she walked away. I slowly turned away from her and slid in the booth across from Shannon. “Weird. She’s usually tickled pink when anyone connected to the Rough Riders come in. Plus, she didn’t even give her typical googly eyes to Jaxon here.”

  I nudged him, which was the same as slamming into a brick wall. Like usual, Jaxon said very little, his eyes alert and focused as he scanned the restaurant.

  “Chill, Rambo,” I whispered. “There’s no one dangerous here.”

  He shot me a look telling me how naive I was and opened his menu.

  I shook off Hannah’s coolness and looked around the restaurant. It was busy but not slammed, a pretty typical Thursday night. I set my menu to the side while Shannon looked at hers. I’d worked there long enough to know I’d be ordering the southwestern burger with an extra side of onion rings.

  They were my favorite.

  Hannah came back, chatting with us just enough to do her job, and the longer we sat there, having a couple beers and waiting for our food to arrive, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling I’d seriously pissed her off.

  And I felt like crap for it.

  She wasn’t a close friend, but until Melanie and Beaux and everyone who came with him fell into my lap, she’d pretty much been all I had.

  Beaux’s interview was just starting to come on, Curt Banner introducing him when she returned with our food.

  Sliding everything onto the table, she looked at the television that held our focus. On it, was a split screen shot of Curt and Beaux.

  “You know,” Hannah said, “It’s funny. You put their two faces next to each other like that and they look really similar. Don’t you think?”

  I was already looking at the images, but I was more focused on Beaux. Because how could you not be? The man wasn’t just sexy as sin, he was all mine.

  “I don’t know,” I said, at the same time Shannon did. “But their face shape, maybe.”

  “I think it’s the eyes,” Hannah said. “They both have the same blue eyes. And sexy lips.”

  That was the Hannah I knew.

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “He does have some sexy lips.”

  She rolled her eyes but lost her smile. Not even a comeback or innuendo to tease me. Strange. “Well, I should get moving. Just shout if y’all need anything.”

  She turned in a huff and I went back to the television screen.

  We watched the interview, me mostly gazing at Beaux’s smile as he talked about the team, the season, and everything in between. We sat through a few commercial breaks, and I was shoving an onion ring into my mouth when an image of Beaux and I outside their practice field popped onto the screen.

  I’d met him there a few times when he was done working out or after practices so we could go out, and there were usually reporters there. It didn’t surprise me they’d taken our photo at some point.

  Curt smiled, asking Beaux a question, and Beaux’s lips pulled into a thin line.

  “Told you, Curt. My personal life is just that.”

  “Yeah, man, we all know. But come on. Give us something about this girl you’ve been with. Nobody’s ever seen you tied to someone so many times.”

  “She’s special to me,” Beaux said, “And that’s all you’re getting.”

  The camera flashed back to Beaux. I was a mixture of nerves, glancing around the restaurant, seeing if anyone had recognized me, knew I was there, and cold needles pricked down my spine.

  I turned and saw Hannah watching the television. Her eyes narrowed into a glare and then a little smirk as she turned and waved at me, flashing me a thumbs up.

  I laughed and turned back to the table.

  No one in the restaurant cared at all we were there. To make sure, I turned to Jaxon. “Everything okay?”

  “Be bet
ter when you’re out of this place. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “It’s probably all that hot sauce you used.”

  He glared at me. I was used to it. “Eat your food.”

  “Aye-aye, Rambo.”

  He shook his head. He didn’t think his nickname was nearly as cute as Melanie and I did.

  Whatever.

  We finished our dinner, Hannah still keeping her distance, and it only made me want to clear the air.

  “Hey, girl,” I said when she brought us our check. “Do you get off soon? I was hoping we could hang out and have a drink when you’re off and catch up.”

  “Sure. That’d be great if you’re not too busy.”

  “Never,” I said, softening my voice. “Never for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you think that lately.”

  “Okay then. I’m off in twenty minutes.”

  Shannon took the check before I could protest and slid a credit card into the slot. “And I’m ready to pay for this, Hannah.”

  Hannah took the folder and went to ring us out. Once she returned, Shannon slid out of the booth and we said our goodbyes. I was going to stay with Jaxon at the bar until Hannah was done, but there was no reason for Shannon to stick around.

  “Thanks again for your help with my flowers today,” she said. “And thanks for loving my brother.”

  “Both easy things to manage, Shannon. I’ll see you soon.”

  She waved goodbye and once she was gone, I pointed at Jaxon. “You stay by the door, or the other side of the bar while I’m with Hannah. We have girl stuff to talk about.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He pointed to a spot by the front door where he could stand like a centurion guard. I already knew why he’d picked the spot. He could see almost the whole restaurant along with the hallway to the bathrooms, but he could keep an eye on me at the bar at the same time.

  “Aye-aye, Rambo.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Go, but don’t get too drunk.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  PAIGE

  We were on drink number two, sitting at the bar with Joey serving us. For a few minutes, it’d felt like old times. Hannah came over as soon as she was done, changed out of her Ride’Em Rough uniform and into a slinky, sexy black tank top and scalloped pale pink shorts before she took a seat next to me.