Eligible Receivers (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 4)

by Lane Hart

  “How about you give me your number, and we go out one night, just you and me?” Nix offers. I’m so surprised by his invitation that I nearly drop the comforter clutched to my chest.

  “I-I don’t know,” I reply as I think about it. Do I really want to get involved with another football player who’ll break my heart? No, Lathan didn’t do it on purpose, but I apparently go through life with naïve goggles on, seeing shit that’s not there. If I go out with Nixon, won’t it end the same? Me thinking we’re great together and him abruptly ending it before I even see it coming? And how would Cameron feel about that? Would he care?

  “Fine. How about I leave you my number instead?” Nixon suggests when I hesitate and don’t respond.

  “No thanks,” I tell him; because if I have his number, I’ll definitely call him. And then I won’t know if he actually wanted me to or not, or if he’s with some other girl… I really can’t handle all that uncertainty.

  “Wow,” Nixon says while rubbing a hand over his scruffy jaw. “Okay.”

  “Sorry,” I tell him, “I’m just not trying to get…attached to anyone right now.” And by anyone, I mean professional heartbreakers like him and Cameron.

  “Me either,” he says when he gets to his feet and starts for the door. “See ya, Kelsey.”

  He shuts it with more force than is necessary and I start to think guiltily that I may have just hurt his feelings.

  Hell no.

  How the hell did I end up being the bad guy here when sex is all those two men ever wanted from me? I thought they would be happy that I told them to leave rather than get all clingy like I usually do and ask them to stay and cuddle. I gave them an out. And instead of being grateful, Cameron and Nixon were both pissed off at me.

  Men.

  Tonight was unexpected but so great, yet even I’m not delusional enough to think there was more to it. I let loose and enjoyed myself for once in my life. And while it was somewhat freeing, now it feels awfully lonely. But again, what else is new? Instead of trudging through the heartache to get to the same goal, I just fast-forwarded right to it. Done and over. Wham, bam, thank you, Cam. And Nixon.

  Taking a deep breath, I finally throw back the comforter and pick my dress up off the floor to pull it on again. Just as I go over to open the door, I see the pile of tiny shreds of green paper sprinkled all over the carpet and kneel down to pick them up with a grin on my face, remembering Cameron on his knees…

  Me and two sexy football players? Who would’ve thought that was possible in a million years?

  Once I have all the pieces of the hundred-dollar bill cupped in my hand, I get up and take them to my jewelry box where I dump them inside, a souvenir of an unforgettable night that I’ll tape together later.

  Chapter Eight

  Nixon

  I’m lined up on the right side of the line of scrimmage during practice, waiting for Quinton, our quarterback, to call the snap. I’ve been off, unfocused ever since Kelsey blew me off a few days ago, right before Christmas. Now I can’t figure out if that night is playing over and over again like a broken record in my mind because she turned me down or because I really wanted to take her out on a date.

  A motherfucking date.

  The one time in my life I ask a woman out on a legit date with dinner and shit without even having the promise of fucking at the end of the night and she flat out refused.

  So how have I dealt with the blow to my ego?

  I’ve completely blamed my former best friend. If it weren’t for that bastard, maybe that night with Kelsey would’ve been different, one-on-one that turned into something…more, like the fuck buddy plan I had where I got to take out and sleep with the same woman more than once without having to worry she would rob me in my sleep.

  Stupid fucking Cam and his need to win at any cost. And fuck Quinton too for deciding to settle down with one woman for the rest of his life, having babies and starting a family that makes him look happier than a kid on Christmas morning. His joy makes me realize just how unhappy I am. Which is stupid.

  I’m a professional football player making a gazillion dollars to play the sport I love, but where have I been living? With my best friend, because my big ass house that I bought with all that cash I make is lonely as fuck with just me running around in it. Then, right before Christmas, which he knows is always hard on me, the asshole kicked me out, adding insult to injury after I was turned down and shit by Kelsey.

  “Blue forty-two! Blue forty-two! Set! Hut!” Quinton yells, snapping me out of my inner monologue. I take off running my route down the field, cutting inside at the twenty-yard line as I get my hands up and look to our QB to throw the pass. He launches a perfect spiral, and it’s a high ball, so I leap up to grab it out of the air….and my fucking helmet collides at full speed with a fucking brick wall, also known as another player’s helmet I realize as I flail backward and slam into the hard, frozen ground. The ache of the impact leaves me monetarily stunned before I’m finally able to sit up, the world spinning like a top around me.

  Glancing over, I see fucking unlucky number thirteen on the douchbag’s jersey before he sits up too.

  “What the fuck?” I yell at Cameron as I pull my helmet off and toss it down on the ground beside me.

  “Me what the fuck? How about you tell me what the fuck since you screwed up your route,” Cam mutters. “You were supposed to cut inside at the ten. I cut in at the twenty, dickhead.”

  “Right, should’ve known you would jump in front of me,” I grumble.

  “That’s the way the play is designed!” he shouts as he rips his helmet off.

  “You two okay?” Quinton asks when he and several trainers run over to check on us. Quinton offers each of his hands to us, helping us to our feet at the same time.

  “Yeah, fine,” I tell him.

  “Nix is just trying to steal my fucking ball like he does everything else,” Cam tells him.

  “Huh?” Quinton asks.

  “Ignore him. He’s a fucking sore loser,” I explain. “I got mixed up on the play. Sorry.”

  “Mixed up my ass,” Cam says as he gets in my face and shoves my chest, backing me up a step since I wasn’t expecting it. “Bastard is always trying to take what’s mine.”

  Shoving him back so hard that he staggers into Lathan, who came over to see what’s going on, I say, “That ball isn’t yours, no more than she was, so what the fuck is your problem?”

  “You’re my problem,” he says with an even harder push that has me on my ass, which is when I lose my shit. Grabbing Cam’s legs, I bring him down to the ground with me, MMA style right before my fist connects with his face.

  And yeah, the fucker hits me back, just as angry and pissed at me as I am at him. I get clocked upside my head several times before the guys pull me off of Cam by my shoulder pads and then get between us.

  I hear the whistle blowing before Coach Griffin jogs over with a scowl on his face and asks, “What the hell has gotten into you two?”

  When neither of us responds, me because I’m too busy trying to catch my breath, Coach says, “Whatever it is, run it off, and neither of you better stop until I blow the whistle. Now go!” he orders.

  Turning around, I start jogging toward the sideline when Cam rams his shoulder into mine, knocking me to the side when he runs past me. I catch up to him and return the favor.

  “Jesus Christ!” Coach yells. “Grow the fuck up and keep your body parts to yourselves!”

  “You hear him?” Cam asks, speeding up when I match his pace. “Keep your dick to yourself.”

  “Tell your tongue to stay away from my dick,” I tell him with a chuckle. When I hear his teeth actually grinding together, I add, “That’s right. I felt it. At least twice.”

  “So fucking childish,” Cam mutters under his breath. “Kiss my ass and eat my dirt,” he declares before taking off in a sprint.

  Of course, I won’t allow him to beat me at anything, so I push my legs into high gear to catch up and pass
him. Cam edges ahead of me, and the two of us continue the battle to see who can run faster until my lungs are burning so badly that I’m pretty sure they’re melting inside my chest. There’s also a cramp in my side, and I can’t feel my legs anymore.

  Finally, thank fuck, Coach blows the whistle, and I drop to the grass right where I was standing, gasping for breath.

  Cam makes it a step further than me just for spite before he’s on his knees ralphing up his lunch because he pushed himself too hard to keep up with me.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a lone figure walking across the now empty field toward us since everyone else has hit the showers. My vision blurs in and out, so I can’t see the person’s face; but based on the red jersey, I’ll take a guess and say it’s our quarterback.

  “I don’t know what the fuck happened between you two, but whatever it is better not make another appearance on this field or Coach is gonna bench your asses. And as team captain, I’ll support him one hundred percent.”

  There is no fucking way I’m gonna get benched. Football is my life, and I’ll be damned if I let some petty bullshit with Cam get in the way.

  But by no means do I plan on us ever being friends again.

  Chapter Nine

  Kelsey

  I’m hanging out in the living room watching television with Callie and Brady when Quinton comes through the door.

  “Hey, hon,” Callie says in greeting when he comes straight over, kisses Brady on top of his sleeping head in her arms and then lifts them both to put them in his lap.

  “Hey, baby. How’s it going, Kelsey?” he says in acknowledgment before leaning his head against Callie’s. “I’m beat.”

  “Rough practice?” she asks.

  “Brutal and filled with drama,” Quinton tells her.

  “Drama?” Callie turns her head to look at him and ask. “Football players have drama?”

  “Oh yeah,” he answers, and I go back to watching the rerun of Friends on the flat screen. “Not often, but I swear these boys are worse than chicks sometimes.”

  “Who was causing drama?” Callie asks.

  “Cameron and Nixon, of all people,” Quinton says, causing my ears to perk up. “Those two are, like, tight as hell, so I don’t know what happened. They’ve always been competitive as shit but good sports about it. Today, they damn near knocked each other unconscious going for the same ball and then started brawling, throwing punches at each other right there on the practice field!”

  “Oh my God,” I mutter before slapping a hand over my mouth, hating that those two were fighting.

  Wait.

  It couldn’t be about me, could it? Nah, no way. I’m probably nothing more to either of them than a long-forgotten hookup by now. It’s been a few days, so I bet they’ve already had another one-night stand.

  “There’s only one thing that could make two best friends go at each other like that,” Callie says.

  “What?” Quinton asks.

  Grinning, she tells him, “A girl.”

  “Nuh-uh. Very doubtful,” Quinton replies, echoing my sentiments. “You don’t know those two like I do. There’s never one girl, singular, when it comes to either of them. Girls are always plural, several a week like a revolving door for both of their beds.”

  Ugh, I don’t like hearing that I was one of those girls passing through, even if I know it’s true.

  “It has to be a girl. What else could come between them?” Callie asks Quinton. “How long have they been best friends?”

  “Five, maybe six years,” he answers with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “As long as I’ve known them they’ve been close, so I hate seeing them fight like this. Plus, it’s bad news for the team. If those two can’t get their shit together, we’ll lose on Sunday for sure.”

  “Maybe you should call both of them over here for dinner, you know, let them meet on neutral ground to try and talk it out with you serving as the mediator,” Callie suggests, making my heart race at the thought of seeing one or both men again so soon after the other night.

  “Good idea,” Quinton agrees. “Kelsey, would you mind cooking enough dinner for two more?”

  “Ah, no, not at all,” I reply in a rush as I get to my feet. “I’ll go start it now,” I say when I take off toward the kitchen.

  And oh, my God. I can’t believe that in a few hours the two men I had sex with, pretty much at the same time, will be right here under this roof eating dinner. I had hoped to get at least a few weeks or months in between seeing them again to let the embarrassment of how slutty I was fade from their memories.

  Will my memories of being with Cameron and Nixon ever fade? Doubtful. Very, very doubtful. Just thinking about that night makes my heart race and my face heat up right along with my panties. It was like I was a different person, completely carefree. And, oddly enough, I felt sexy for the first time in my life. Both incredibly hot men wanted me, which was flattering as all get out. In fact, they flattered my pants, or dress, as the case may be, right off.

  Tonight, I need to make something quick for dinner and then hide in my room until Nixon and Cameron leave. What I really need is a place of my own, but I quit my job to be a nanny for a football player, who immediately had Callie move in, so he no longer needed me full time. Then I moved out of my apartment because I couldn’t afford it anyway and Lathan needed me to move in with him as part of our fake marriage before he kicked me out. So, now I’m broke and homeless because of football players. That’s why there’s no way I’m ever getting involved with another one, much less two.

  …

  Cameron

  “I know what you’re doing,” I tell Quinton when he opens his front door. “And the only reason I came over is for the free homemade meal.” And because I knew there was a chance I might get to see Kelsey.

  “At least you’re here,” he says with a crooked grin. “Come on in. Although, I may need to hide your car down the street so Nixon will actually come inside.”

  “He’ll come inside,” I grumble since I know how my former best friend thinks — the same way as me. He’ll want to try and see Kelsey, maybe one up me by flirting with her and shit. Fuck that.

  “Dinner’s ready, so we’ll eat as soon as he gets here,” Quinton informs me.

  “Smells good,” I say as I follow him to the living room.

  “Yeah, and I’m starving,” he tells me.

  “Me too,” Callie agrees when she appears from the hallway with a hand on her lower belly.

  “She’s eating for two,” Quinton reminds me before going over to give Callie a kiss on the lips and run his palm over her stomach. “Your baby bump’s definitely getting bigger.”

  “Hey, now,” Callie warns through narrowed eyes, but her smile ruins the wanted effect.

  “I want you huge so I can finally feel the baby,” Quinton tells her with another kiss. And yeah, the intimacy between the two makes me a little uncomfortable. I’ve never had that before or been exposed to it. My parents separated when I was five, so I bounced from one single parent house to the other, and neither ever remarried after the split. Instead, my mother swore off men altogether, deciding to live the life of a nun. And at forty-eight, my father still fucks every girl my age that he can get into his bed. Maybe that’s why I’ve never even imagined myself in an actual relationship with a woman. I have no fucking clue what that is or what it even looks like.

  The doorbell rings, separating the lovebirds.

  “I’ll get it since I may have to drag him in by his collar,” Quinton says.

  “You’re such a good team captain,” Callie tells him with a smile. “Come on, Cameron, let’s sit down so we can eat.”

  “Sure thing,” I agree as my stomach lets out a rumble. “After running my ass off at practice and then tossing my cookies, I’m fucking famished.”

  “Yuck,” Callie says as I follow her to the dining room. “But I’m glad you’re hungry. Kelsey made plenty.”

  “Kelsey?” I repeat in surprise. “Is she gonn
a eat with us?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant about her presence.

  “Nah, she offered to listen for Brady for us in case he wakes up. I guess she wanted to avoid getting in the middle of the cross-fire,” Callie says which is damn ironic since sweet, innocent Kelsey is the source of our contention.

  “I caught him before he could escape,” Quinton says when he walks into the room with his hand on Nixon’s shoulder.

  “Hey, Callie,” Nix says to Quinton’s fiancée, while refusing to even look in my direction.

  “Let’s eat. Then you two are gonna hash this out,” Quinton tells us.

  The four of us sit down, Quinton at the head of the table, Callie next to him with me on her other side and Nixon alone across from us, then dig into the big pan of pasta.

  “Mmm,” I moan when I taste the first wonderful mouthful. “Tell Kelsey that I said this chicken fettuccine is almost better than sex.”

  Nixon freezes with his fork in mid-air at my comment for a long moment before he finally shoves it in his mouth.

  The rest of the meal Quinton takes turns trying to converse with me or Nixon, but neither of us says much in response.

  “Well, let me get the plates out of the way, and then you boys can talk,” Callie offers when she stands up and stacks the dinnerware. “Good luck,” she says to Quinton.

  “Thanks, baby,” he says when he slaps her ass as she walks past.

  “So, who wants to start?” he asks, looking between me and Nix. I ate so much that my gut is swollen, so I’m slouched in my chair with a hand on my food baby.

  “Fine,” Quinton mutters when we stay silent. “Is this about some girl?”

  Quinton and I may be friends, but there’s no way I’m gonna tell him that I was going down on Kelsey when Nix started fucking her.

  “It is, isn’t it?” our team captain prods. “Callie said it had to be, but I thought that was impossible. I didn’t think either of you could pick just one girl.”