Game For Love: Gridiron Heartbreaker (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Gridiron Bad Boys Book 2)

by Melissa Blue

  She nodded and offered up her keys. “Would you...take a look for me? I don't know what's wrong.”

  She stepped forward and closed her a hand around one of his impressive biceps then squeezed. A thrill ran up her spine and made her scalp tingle. His skin was tight and warm.

  It wasn't hard to add a little breathy note to her voice. “You’re so big and strong. I bet you know a lot about cars.”

  He blinked then laughed. “I know a little, but you tell me what happened?”

  She leaned into him. “Don't you want to check it yourself?”

  “Your word is good enough for me.”

  Oh. That was interesting...and she liked it. She toned down the coyness in her voice. “It's dead. No lights, not even a wheezing gasp when I turn on the ignition.”

  He nodded and she could see his thoughts flickering over his expression. “So do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

  A nervous energy buzzed along her skin. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me help you or...the hard way.”

  She dropped her hand from his skin. It was too warm and appealing to keep touching him. Soon she'd start petting him and there would be no turning back.

  “I want you to...” Then she remembered—open and available and marriage. “I want the easy way. The way where you sweep me off my feet.”

  He laughed again, his eyes bright with humor. “Okay, Alyssa.”

  Before she could truly understand what his tacit agreement meant, he bent slightly...and well, swept her off her feet. A little yelp escaped before a laugh followed.

  “To my carriage?” he asked as though he wasn't the most ridiculous man to walk the planet.

  “Will you put me down?” She tried to say in a serious tone but the laugh refused to die.

  He brought his gaze down to meet hers. “If only you'll stop lying to me. I liked your honesty. This little fluttery act is not the woman I met in your kitchen.”

  Her hand, with its own mind, reached up to cup his cheek. Stubble tickled her palm. A frisson at the simple touch kicked her heart into a solo race. A second later she dropped her hand down to press against her stomach—butterflies. When was the last time a man had created that kind of reaction? Her teens? She sighed, and knew there was only one real answer. Fighting it was pointless, but she tried.

  “You don't know me,” she said.

  “I've become a pretty good judge of character over the years.”

  She believed him. He probably met more people in a year than she would in her entire lifetime. Probably had to make tough judgment calls on every single one. She couldn't imagine living like that. What could living like that could do to a person? She looked at him. The smile was gone replaced by a somber expression.

  “So you want me to be honest?” she asked.

  “Even when it hurts.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm bored.”

  She tilted her head and fought the urge to cuss. “I'm entertainment for you?”

  He shifted her in his arms but otherwise seemed un-bothered by holding her and all her considerable taste-testing weight.

  “You've barreled into my life and I find you interesting.” He was quiet for a moment. “Or I've barreled into yours. Can't quite decide yet. Either way, everything else but you, right now, bores the fuck out of me. And it makes sense to not let you walk out of my life yet.”

  She couldn't decide if that was a compliment or not. “You burst into mine and now I'm being held like a cranky baby. Put me down.”

  “Are you sure? I can get used to this. My forearm is very close...”

  His arm cradled right under her ass. “Put. Me. Down.”

  There was his laugh again, so fluid and masculine, but he slowly lowered her so she could stand. The shoes and socks she wore seemed to scrape along the bottoms of her feet. There would be blisters if she didn't shuck them off and elevate her ankles. The slacks and the starch white shirt seemed tighter and more uncomfortable than they had been hours ago when she'd first put them on.

  The thought of waiting another hour, if not more, before she could fall face first into her bed, made tears of exhaustion and frustration spring to her eyes. She'd worked doubly hard to impress her boss and to make the night seamless. It was both a point of pride and a necessity to make the move from Florida work.

  Her options were simple—let him take her home or let him take her home and invite him to stay for a while—and neither choice made her happy. Nervous, yes. Desperate for more...maybe.

  Knowing more or less about him could help....maybe. “What else happens with the easy way?” she asked.

  “I take you home. You thank me like you mean it and in the morning your car is in your driveway. Your fixed car.”

  The proposition sounded too simple for a man who could smile and make a woman's panties disappear. “Straight home?”

  “If that's what you want.”

  There it was—the unspoken but oh-so-tempting invitation. She almost swayed from the seduction of the offer. But she'd been swayed before, had listened to her head instead of her heart. By the time her gut had offered an opinion it was too late. Getting into a car, with a cute guy who had an easy, playful manner could spell disaster—again.

  “Do you really want honesty?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “My feet hurt. I smell weird. My car's busted. My boss is probably doing unspeakable things with her fiancé—which makes knocking on the door a problem, but the thing you should really listen to is that I'm not looking for a relationship, much less a hook-up.”

  A shadow passed over his gaze, and his broad shoulders seemed to lock in place. “Who broke your heart?”

  She flinched at the accuracy of his guess. “A man I thought I should spend the rest of my life with.”

  His brows worked their way into a furrowed line. “'Should spend is an interesting way to explain a broken engagement. Huh.” And then his gaze somehow intensified. “Do you want honesty back?”

  Alyssa pursed her lips, a little surprised by the offer, but he sounded sincere—seemed sincere even when he was being ridiculous. She flicked her wrist as though to say go for it. “Seems fair.”

  Only the slightest twitch of his lips warned her. “The best way to get over someone is to find someone else.”

  “Really?” She was so proud the laugh didn't spill out. “Any ideas for my replacement?”

  “I might be the best cure to a broken heart. Not to brag.”

  “Of course, never to brag.” And then she thought about that. “Why?”

  “Do you really want to know? Or do you want me to show you?”

  Why did her skin tighten at the question? It was just words put together. In his deep voice. Delivered with an intense gaze, and a seriousness that made her think there was so much more to Blaine that made her ache to know.

  But her gut was telling her to wait, find out more before she made a decision. “I want to go home and shower.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “All right.” He gestured to his car.

  Wary, she strode over to the passenger door and waited for him to unlock the door.

  “It's open,” he told her.

  “Oh.”

  The moment she opened the door the scent of expensive leather hit her. She'd expected something sleek on the inside, but the car had plenty of leg room—not that she needed the extra space. Alyssa settled in and almost moaned at the way the leather molded to her. The subtle throb in her arches quieted. He slid in behind the wheel, pushed a button that made the engine roar to life. She...well, she tried not to drop off into a coma on the butter-soft leather.

  Blaine glanced at her, an amused expression brushing away the furrow along his brow line. “This would go faster if you told me where you lived.”

  “Oh.” And she had wondered why they hadn't left yet. “Sorry.”

  “I'm a little offended my car's seat is getting more play from you. It's never even tasted your food.”
<
br />   She tried not to preen at the not-so-subtle compliment about her cooking. “Instead of flirting or using innuendo, you should have offered a foot rub.”

  “Noted. Now your address.”

  She told him and tried to keep her eyes open as they hit the road, but even at the speed they were going, the ride was smooth.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Curious question, Alyssa.”

  She glanced at him and his attention was fixed on the street. No smile came with the request so she considered the offer of conversation with the same level of seriousness, and lots of caution.

  She asked, “What question?”

  “What happened with your ex?”

  Five months and there was still a pinch in her heart at the thought of Andrew. “That's a hefty question for a ride home.”

  “It's nosy, but it's either that or I turn on the radio to fill the awkward silence.”

  She crossed her arms. “Tell me about your last ex.”

  He seemed to chew on that. “As in I was exclusive and the world knew we were a couple?”

  She sat up a little. “The fact you need to have that kind of definition...”

  His mouth quirked at the insult. “You wanted honesty. I date. Not many women want the real football experience for the rest of their lives.”

  She'd never really thought past the glitz of a profession like his. Often she worked in sprawling houses with maids and blue blood drama. After clean up, she left and went back to her life that was grounded in lazy Sundays cooking and experimenting with recipes.

  And sports...she had no real clue about it behind the sweat and football pads other than sometimes catching the end of a game or the buzz of an athlete. Professional sports was a different world, and he was very much a part of it.

  More than curious, she turned a bit more in her seat to face him. “And what's that like?”

  “A lot of days when I'm not home and all the frustration and insecurities that can follow.”

  Sounded lonely for him. “So you keep things...superficial?”

  “Light,” he corrected her, his gaze steady on the road ahead.

  “Semantics.”

  A glance her way then, “And you and your ex?”

  She laughed at how he'd primed the ground for a confession. “I should hate how you're so good at this.”

  “I told you, I'm the best man to cure a heart break.”

  She didn't doubt it. She uncrossed her arms then placed her hands between her thighs to warm them and maybe keep them to herself. “And revealing things about yourself is of no consequence?”

  “No,” he answered hard and fast. He pushed out a breath then added, “It's the truth and I don't feel shame about the reality of my situation. It is what it is.”

  A pang of sympathy pulsed through her. “Andrew and I met in college.”

  “College sweethearts, how cute.”

  “No. Study buddies.” She looked at him and added, “We actually studied and no one groped each other in the library late at night.”

  “Full scholarship to Michigan State. My teammates were a mix of Caucasian and African American students. We were all smart, had some kind of scholarship to pay for school and we were all corn-fed bulky. I know what studying is.”

  The ability to charm didn't come from stupidity, but it also came from practice. “And partying?”

  He grinned and notched his head in agreement. “That, too.”

  Despite herself, a smile crept out. “Anyway, we went our separate ways after graduation. Then met again at culinary school when our degrees didn't get us far.”

  “What did you study?”

  “He was pre-med and I was history. We fell in love over feta and truffles.”

  He gave her a small chuckle. “How quaint.”

  Not offended at all, she snorted. “You're supposed to be listening, not judging.”

  “Feta and truffles? If I said I fell in love on the fifty-yard line?”

  “I would have mocked you mercilessly.” A laugh bubbled up. “And I know, but we clicked.” She sighed, her mind wandering over the years she'd spent with Andrew. Not all bad, but definitely not all good. At least now she'd stopped regretting the time she'd wasted on him.

  “But he was always more of a snob,” she said. “I feel horrible saying that, because I loved him. He must have had some redeemable qualities and he did. But...I don't know. He never got the appeal of a taco shack on the corner. It was high end meals or nothing. After a while I felt like I had to be perfect for him to love me. I could never be the taco shack—as good and filling but no starched-white napkins.”

  The small confession was met with silence, so tense she turned her head to look at him. The streetlights whipped by highlighting his face in fractured flashes. He still appeared handsome, breathtaking, but the charming bad boy was gone. This was a man sifting through every word she said and didn't say.

  Alyssa held her breath and waited for his reply. When did his opinion matter? She'd literally met him hours ago.

  Finally he said, “If you didn't feel like you could be yourself, then he wasn't the right guy.”

  True, but late at night she'd wondered if she made a mistake by walking away. By now she'd be married, well on her way to having children—a family. Her sisters had that bliss. She'd listened to them complain and it wasn't all swoons and roses. Had she given up? Would she ever find true happiness?

  Her life now and the choices she made felt so...serious. Taking the job with Charlotte had to work, because failing at something, anything else was not an option. It was illogical to put so much pressure on a job and a home in a new place, but she did, every morning she woke up.

  Alyssa glanced out the window and recognized the mom and pop stores, the neighborhood—hers. At the rate they were going, she'd be home in less than two minutes. Relief should have flooded her veins, but tension climbed up her spine.

  Alyssa had to know. “How often do you help women suffering from the end of a bad relationship?”

  “The real question is what fantasy do I somehow fulfill that a women will feel more confident after being with me? But I'm sure that's too deep for a man with dimples and an easy smile.”

  His words didn't sound bitter but thoughtful. And now she wanted to know everything about him. Was his confession, that flash of vulnerability, a part of the game he played or honesty? “Blaine, you're interesting.”

  “A high compliment from the Nut Chopper.”

  She laughed. It was so easy to do that with him. “You're welcome.”

  He slowed to a stop in front of her house. Their time had come to an end. Maybe she'd see him on the wedding day since Charlotte had tasked Alyssa to be head chef for the reception.

  But they were done. He'd be gone from her life—this time for good. She'd never know what his tongue felt like anywhere else on her body. Her heart stuttered at the thought. Despite his over-the-top charm, he'd interested her. There was more to him than a smile, and a wicked streak.

  And she was...Alyssa hadn't flirted or looked too hard at any man in over five months.

  “I...” she said, with the intent to invite him into her home.

  What was she doing? Welcoming him into her little condo was rash and she didn't do crazy impulsive, but he sat there quietly, waiting for her to come to a final decision.

  Her mind happily offered up the memory of his mouth trailing along the shell of her ear. Her nipples tingled and would harden if she let herself linger over what else his mouth could do to her.

  Brushing aside the lust for a moment, she let her mind work through all the possible complications. The thing that swayed her the most was that he sat there, not pushing or getting impatient with her indecision. He could have used charm or other means to shift her to the...easy way, but he hadn't.

  With a deep inhalation, she let the question spill out, “Do you want a night cap before...heading to wherever home is for you tonight?�
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  “Alyssa, I would really like that.”

  Unsure and anxious, she climbed out of the car. With her feet screaming the whole way, she shuffled to her door. He followed behind her, so silent. Wasn't he supposed to put her at ease? Wasn't he supposed to outrageously charm her until serious thought lay by the wayside?

  Instead, he was a steady presence behind her as she unlocked the door to her home. Worry didn't skittered over her nerves as she stepped inside her place. The house was clean mostly because she hadn't spent much time in the condo since moving in. She also kept a hamper near the door for when she stripped down. That kept clothes from being strewn everywhere.

  Her steps halted after a second. He was the first visitor, the first man in her home since she'd moved in half a year ago. Seven months ago she would have decorated with warm browns, neon greens and purple. Her décor was post-engagement though and there were tans, golds and dark greens.

  Her couch was comfortable, but not a single throw pillow brightened the place. No art decorated the walls and there was barely a handful of family photos. She'd taken exactly what she went into the relationship with Andrew—her TV, her books and her clothes. And that's what decorated her condo.

  How...depressing.

  Likely not expecting her to have stopped at the threshold, Blaine bumped into her from behind. He closed his hands around her hips and for two heartbeats they stood like that. His fingers pressed into her hips, and with the slightest tug, her ass pressed into his cock. The thick, hard ridge forced her to suck in a breath.

  Alyssa might have stood there for the rest of her life with the warmth and strength in his fingers holding her tight, but he dropped his hands.

  She exhaled and stepped toward the kitchen. “You can have a seat. I'm pretty sure the remote is somewhere in the couch cushions.”

  When alone in the kitchen, she leaned against the counter. Her head didn't feel like it was attached to her neck as the world spun a little. His cock pressed into her had done that. She scrubbed a hand over her mouth and tried to remember what she was doing—hell, her name. Didn't take her long to fill two glasses with ice, soda and a splash of whiskey.

  He took the offering without comment as he flipped through the channels. No surprise, he stopped on ESPN. But that would work to her benefit. She had to get out of her socks and shoes. Not another movement until she was freed.