Playing Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Mickey Miller

  He looked at me, his face tight, as though he was trying to hide his emotions from me. And for a second, we stared at each other, the same way we’d stared at each other at dinner, before I’d left him high and dry. I’d felt glued in place as his eyes had looked into mine, like now. But this time, I could tell he felt it too. He looked away, and the moment was gone. But I’d sensed he’d wanted to say something. And again, getting personal was too much for him. I wondered if he’d ever open up to me. I looked out my window, watching his profile reflected against the glass.

  C’mon, say something. Tell me I’m not just a crazy girl with a groupie crush on a baseball player.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” he finally said. He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, giving me nothing to work with. I imagined he would make an expert poker player with how closely he held his cards to his chest.

  “You’ll sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch since my spare bedroom has baseball stuff all over it.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke. He was being coolly polite and distant as he stood on the other side of the elevator, and this subtle shift in his mood put me on instant alert. He was probably just tired, but I couldn’t help but think it was something else. “Do you have clothes for tomorrow?”

  I looked at myself in jeans and an orange t-shirt. “Just these.”

  “I’ll have my agent bring some over tomorrow,” he continued, and the elevator dinged as we arrived at floor 25.

  It was the top apartment of the high-rise building in the Gold Coast neighborhood, close to the lake. Jake had been acting weird since we got out of the parking ramp under the building. He was masking it well, but I could pick up on his anxiety. Even though I was taking his suggestion to try to forget about the robbery, I wasn’t sure if he was taking his own advice. Was someone like Jake scared of anything? It didn’t seem possible, not the way he’d handled himself and controlled the situation.

  I eyed his profile. “Jake, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, too quickly. “Just write down your sizes and what you want, and I’ll send a text.”

  Since I had work bright and early tomorrow, something businesslike, I thought. Then I really processed his words. “Your agent shops for you?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s her job. And I never give her little tasks like this, so she’ll think it’s fun.”

  Her? His agent was a woman? For some reason, that really bothered me. “Oh? None of your other girls have needed dresses?” I asked, now fishing, but he kept his gaze forward. There wasn’t even a hint of his flirty, easy-going charm. I pushed my glasses up on my nose, making sure I saw him as clearly as possible.

  He gave me a funny look. “Other girls, yes. Of course.” We walked to the end of the hall and finally reached his unit. His keys jingled as he took them out. As he inserted the key, I leaned against the door. He smiled. “Congrats. This is the first dress I’ll ever be requesting from her.”

  I didn’t respond to that as he opened the door. Inside, I found a larger-than-average open-concept bachelor pad. The walls were brick with black and white art on them. Every piece featured two human-ish figures, seemingly vying against each other for something. It was shockingly neat and orderly.

  “Wow. I didn’t know you were an art collector.”

  “Check out this one though.” He nodded to a piece on the far end of the wall, which was a black-and-white cut-out of Ted Williams. We walked toward it to get a closer look. “Signed,” he added.

  If I wasn’t a softball player, I would have had no idea who the man was. “Teddy. Fought in World War II, but still somehow managed to be one of the best hitters of all time.”

  “You know who Ted Williams is?”

  I shrugged. “What, why can’t I know who he is? I come from a baseball family.”

  He walked into the main room, which had a few bookshelves, a TV, and a coffee table. “I’ll be sleeping here.” He patted the couch as I followed after him. He walked to a side room and opened a door. “And you will be in here.”

  He put a hand on my lower back as he turned on the lights to his room. It dawned on me how crazy this whole night had been. Stalking a famous ball player, having dinner with him and his cute sidekick, and then almost dying. Well, okay, could have died if Jake hadn’t taken care of business. And now, I was in his bedroom. My friends back home wouldn’t believe it. My mother sure as hell wouldn’t. Heck, Amy might even have a hard time with this one. I imagined the ensuing conversations with my mother, in particular.

  I stayed at Jake Napleton’s house last night. No mother, I didn’t sleep with him. We’re friends.

  Were we? Friends?

  “So…Jake. You’ve been quiet,” I said as I walked further inside his room. I took off my gold cross pendant and put it on his dresser. “I’m just wondering how you’re dealing with…everything that’s happened tonight.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, again, too quickly. “Totally fine. This kind of thing happens in bad parts of Chicago.”

  “Bet you got loads of stories of growing up here, huh?” I asked, hoping he’d take the bait. But he didn’t. Typical. However, he didn’t give me his usual don’t-ask-me-anything-personal look, just a tired, quick smile.

  He passed me on the way to his huge, walk-in closet. From inside, he grabbed a pair of black-and-red flannel PJs and tossed them at me. I barely caught them before he was walking past me.

  “Hope they’ll be comfortable enough for you. Night!” he said as he zoomed out of the room.

  I threw the PJs on the bed and followed him out. “Jake. You don’t seem fine. You seem off. Seriously, you can tell me.” I reached out and grabbed a hold of a spot right between his neck and shoulder. He finally stopped and faced me.

  He had been avoiding my eyes, and finally, he looked straight into mine with those piercing brown irises.

  “Fine. You know what I’ve been thinking about for the past hour? It hit me when we were in the car, and then in the elevator. I kept thinking…how it would have been if you’d died tonight. How pissed I would have been. It’s fucking silly. But I was thinking that you could have died before I—” His hand moved and gripped my arm. I felt so many emotions surge through me. Jake was talking much more intensely than I’d ever seen him before. His hand moved from my elbow up to my shoulder.

  “Before you…what?” I urged and looked at him.

  “I’d have been so pissed if you—if we’d died, and I never did this.”

  Jake dropped both of his arms down around my waist and pulled my body to his.

  I let out a jolt of air, and I couldn’t stop staring up at him. Maybe I was being weak, but I didn’t overthink the moment this time. I let it happen. I pressed my hips into him. He reciprocated by pressing his hips back into mine and lowering his lips down onto my open mouth.

  “Mmmmm,” I groaned, letting my hands roam his body, feeling the muscles under my fingers.

  He pulled away for a split second, and our eyes connected again. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. You make me wanna—”

  In another split second his lips were pressed up against mine again. This time, I was ready for him, and I softened my lips to brace for his. My hands grabbed for his butt and only reached as far as his hips.

  “Fuck, I like you, Andrea,” he said in a throaty growl as our foreheads touched.

  “I like you, too,” I whispered back. He spread my arms out behind me, pushing them toward the sides of the dresser. I leaned my head back and felt his lips move slowly from my cheeks to my neck. He tugged at my orange t-shirt, and I willfully obliged in helping him pull it off.

  My body was pressed back up against the dresser, and my chest was pushed out involuntarily. Jake stepped back from me and stared, his eyes everywhere on my body.

  “What?” I asked. “Is it my birthmark?” I followed his eyes to my chest on my left side, where I had a red birthmark the size of a quarter that I’d alw
ays been self-conscious of.

  Jake just smiled and shook his head ever so slightly. He came closer to hug me.

  His hips gyrated into mine, and I gasped. I felt it again. The same it I had seen in the locker room.

  Back with a vengeance. Dear God.

  He backed his hips off me and worked his kisses down my neck to my chest. He kissed my stomach from side to side. I ran my hand through his thick brown hair, encouraging him further, but that same panic that had come out of nowhere during dinner was suddenly back. I wasn’t one of those girls—like the girls Jake hooked up with—that could keep it casual. And I knew that with this man, I couldn’t just sleep with him and pretend the next day it was nothing.

  I took things personally. Jake didn’t. There was nothing wrong with it, but I needed to remind myself we were operating on different levels. Even though it wouldn’t be fair, I would hate him and blame him for what I felt the day after when it would have been my fault for letting things go too far. Dinner had just been the beginning. And sometimes, you didn’t always get your dessert.

  I savored the moment, though. I savored his touch and the fact that he wanted to be with me—at least for a night.

  His mouth was at my belly, and his big long fingers dipped inside of my jeans. The point of no return. I might regret what I was about to say, but I had to say it.

  “Jake...” I had to repeat myself a couple more times.

  “Yeah?” he whispered, looking up at me.

  The look on his face…I could almost believe he really wanted me, wanted to be with me. That this wasn’t just another night or that I wasn’t some random girl he’d picked up at the bar, but I knew the truth. Reality was rarely pretty.

  “Come up here.” I guided him up.

  “You okay?” he asked. He pushed my hair behind my ear, tweaking the frame of my glasses. The gesture was almost…affectionate.

  “I can’t…I’m sorry.”

  Jake’s lips curved upward into a slight, sad smile. He seemed so understanding that saying no to him was almost painful.

  “If that’s what you really want, Andrea…”

  He waited, searching my face. I nodded. He nodded back.

  “Okay.”

  And then he left, and once again, I wondered, what the hell was I doing?

  “You whaaaat?!” Amy was scolding me the next day, unsurprisingly, for not having hooked up with Jake. And part of me didn’t really blame her. “You didn’t even get his shirt off? Shit, I’m not angry. Sorry for raising my voice there. I mean, you should have at least gotten his shirt off.”

  This whole thing was getting confusing and complicated. For me, anyways. But who knew what Jake thought of the situation. As promised, his agent, Marissa, had dropped off a chic brand name outfit that could have paid for a month’s rent. I’d only emailed her office once, as a courtesy when I started on Jake’s campaign. So I’d had no idea that he had a female agent, one that was a little too easy on the eyes. I hadn’t dallied that morning, and I’d gotten out of there as fast as possible. Jake had acted normal, like getting turned down was nothing new to him. But I had felt an unspoken tension in the air as I slept.

  “I don’t know,” I said, sitting heavily in my seat at the bar of a packed McBanners. It was Friday, and I couldn’t be more thankful that the week was over. While the past week had been action packed, it had taken a lot out of me. “I just couldn’t. We’ve only known each other a week!”

  Amy’s expression said it all, and I hadn’t even told her about the rest of last night’s adventure—not Tate, not even about the robbery. “Andrea! You need to get with the way we do things in the big city! One-night stands are a thing! It’s not a big deal! And also, you need to get his shirt off him. Ask about those tattoos.”

  “Tattoos? What about them?”

  “Supposedly he has backwards tattoos on his chest. The media has asked him about them, and not once has he given a straight answer why he has mirror images of tattoos on him.”

  I scrunched my face. “You seem to know a lot about Jake’s tattoos. You know, seeing as how I was the one who almost had a one-night stand with him.”

  I’d never had a one-night stand, but it didn’t feel very cool to say so. Plus, the last thing I wanted was to be Jake’s one-night stand. If we were together for just one night, that would be a rip off.

  At least a ten-night stand. God, I cannot believe I’d resisted. The fact that Jake had respected my decision without hesitation had been wonderful, and confusing, too. Had he realized he hadn’t wanted to sleep with me? Or was he the nice guy I knew he was under that dirty-playing, beer-guzzling, party persona he didn’t refute?

  “And then there was the whole ‘sleeping with clients’ thing that seemed like it might get me into trouble,” I added.

  “Psssh.” Amy waved her hand in the air like she didn’t care. “I think Jake Napleton is one of those worth the risk situations. You don’t agree? Besides, I bet you could turn this into at least a five-night stand.”

  I started to regret that I’d even told Amy anything. Even though she was my best work friend, I didn’t feel quite like unpacking the real reason for my hesitation that Amy only knew the half of: my ex.

  My phone buzzed. I looked down and saw Mama flash on the screen. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  “Jake?” She arched an eyebrow.

  I shook my head. “I wish.”

  I left the bar, finding an area outside that was quiet enough. I slid my finger across the touchpad to answer.

  “Mother. How are you?”

  “Hi, honey! How’s the big city?”

  My mother would never recover if she knew what I’d been up to. It was like she had an “Andrea got close to hooking up with someone” detector. I pictured her having a stroke listening to Jake and I talk dirty.

  Why was I even thinking of Jake and me talking dirty?

  “It’s so great, Mother. Steve has finally asked me to take on a project that really means something. And I’m out at McBanners right now with my new friend Amy.”

  “That’s…” She took an extra beat before responding. “Grand. Just grand. Well, everybody misses you here.”

  That was passive aggressive code for, You’ll be coming home at the end of the internship, right?

  I kept my poker face for the moment. “Good. I miss everyone too.”

  Then she came in with the really heavy artillery.

  “Mr. Barnes is holding that social media position at Barnes’ Bar. He looks forward to having you.”

  I shuddered. For once in my life, I was starting to enjoy myself, to find myself. Now my mother, well-intentioned though she was, wanted to remove me from this growth period.

  “Mother, a small neighborhood bar doesn’t need a full-time social media person,” I informed her, which was very true.

  “Well honey, he’s holding it just the same. I’m sure you’ll find something to do when you come back here. The softball team needs a coach next spring…”

  My mother kept talking, but I stopped listening. Somewhere in my heart, I knew she wanted the best for me. But after the divorce, there was another, selfish reason that she wanted me back in Sugar Tree: to keep her company. My younger brothers were both in college now, and I was her only daughter. It’s what good Southern daughters did, took care of their parent. Tears welled up in my eyes just thinking how much I loved and respected the woman. She’d wanted the best for me, she really had. But she was born and raised in Sugar Tree and planned to stay there for her whole life. The fact that I had been in a college relationship with Sugar Tree’s homegrown star, Grant Newman, meant to my mother that I needed to return home with him and start making babies, ASAP. She still lived in a world where we would kiss and make up sometime soon.

  Maybe it was partially my fault for never totally filling my mother in on why me and Grant broke up. Still, as much as I loved my mother, I had been realizing lately that I needed to separate myself from home and create my own independent being if I eve
r wanted to be truly happy.

  “Andrea Jane! Did you hear what I just asked? Have you been going to church on Sundays?”

  I had, but clearly that wasn’t the point of this conversation. I couldn’t do this anymore. Not right now. Not on a Friday night when I was already two tequila shots and an appletini into my night.

  “Mother, I’m so sorry. I have to go. My friend is calling me.”

  “Well, all right. You watch out for those city playboys at the bar, though. Find you a nice country boy, like that college boy of yours. And Grant’s in Chicago right now. He texted me. Maybe you two can, you know, rekindle things.”

  I swallowed hard and knew that I’d have to tell her the whole story about Grant soon. Until then, I was doing my best to put him behind me.

  “Mother, did you just say Grant texted you?” I asked, disgusted that he had the audacity to use my mother to get to me. It would just make it even harder to tell her the truth, especially since she still clearly adored him and he still had her wrapped around his little pinky.

  “Yes, and he’s really horribly heartbroken after everything that happened. He wants you back.”

  I stiffened. “Mother. I’m twenty-three. I can handle my own dating life. Please stay out of it.”

  I heard an elongated sigh on the other end of the phone.

  “I just worry about you. You know that.”

  “I love you, Mother. I have to go.”

  “I love you too.”

  I pressed the red button on the touchscreen to end the call and breathed a deep sigh of relief as I walked back to the entrance of the bar. The bouncer with a big beard waved me through the line since he knew I had just stepped outside.

  A drunken call with my mother wasn’t exactly the best way to kick off a Friday, but at the same time, I had been dodging her calls for several days.