Football Dick (Big Girls, Bad Boys, and Babies)

by Violet Blaze

  “You're going to wait for that NFL charity thing to do it? That's … an interesting choice.”

  I raise my brows at her.

  “I suppose you have another suggestion?” Hal just stares at me and drums her freshly manicured nails on the table.

  “I figured something was really wrong when you didn't show up to watch the game.”

  “Yeah,” I say, feeling a sort of pit growing inside me. “I haven't exactly been in the mood for football lately.”

  “Did the asshole say something to you?” she asks, immediately going into guard dog mode. My little sister might be a twenty year old brat, but she's fiercely protective of me.

  “Not really,” I say because it's true. All he said was that we couldn't be together. Big deal. He's a stranger; I don't even know the guy. Aaaaaand yet I'm carrying his baby. Fantastic.

  “If you want to see him sooner, I know where he's gonna be tonight,” she tells me, waggling her eyebrows and leaning in close. I pretend not to give a crap, but I'm suddenly very interested.

  “Where?”

  “At a charity event for Double Dare Dog and Cat Rescue.” I almost choke because that's kind of funny … and sort of cute, too. “They're auctioning off dinner dates with some of the players.”

  I groan and lean forward, putting my forehead against the wood of the table.

  “Don't you think winning one date with the guy is enough?” I ask, but Hal is shaking her head vigorously at me, pointing at the glass surface of my table with a single finger. She looks like a schoolteacher in her long, black dress. Must be one of my stepmother's picks. The woman has no issue selling her daughter's nude shots to the highest paying magazine, but when it comes to wearing leggings around? Oh, hell no. Fucking racist, homophobic, bigoted hypocrite.

  “You're waiting too long to tell Rhoden. Clearly, you like him.”

  “Clearly, I've spent three short … outings with the guy. That doesn't equate to liking him, Hal.” Only I do like him. A lot. Which is silly and stupid.

  “So, you got pregnant when?”

  “At the masquerade party,” I tell her, wishing I'd never agreed to go to that stupid thing in the first place. Then I wouldn't have to deal with Rhoden Richards for the rest of my life, see his gorgeous lips and masculine face and smell that bourbon-oak-vanilla smell all over my baby when he's done holding it.

  Ech.

  If, if, if he holds it. If he's a part of his kid's life. But I am going to offer him the chance. It's only fair.

  “Come to the charity thing and we'll buy you a dinner date. As soon as the auction's over, the player sits with you at one of the tables. Everything's paid for and settled, no planning required. It's in, out, over in one night,” Hal says with a big grin. I think that's supposed to be a sex joke, but I don't laugh.

  “Hal, I appreciate the offer of help. Seriously.” I pause and give her a look. “Wait, why are you going to an animal rescue charity event?”

  Hal blushes profusely which is soooo unlike her that I'm immediately worried.

  “Well, partially because the after-party's going to be crank, but …” A long pause. “I have a crush on the tight end.” She snickers.

  Oooooh. The guy she was dancing with at the party, Deshaun Green. Hmm. Wonder how the Evil Stepbitch likes that?

  “I'm going to buy a date with him using my mother's credit card. She seems to be rolling in the dough lately.”

  I purse my lips hard. Rolling in money, why? Because of Walter? What is this, like some kind of reverse dowry or something? The whole thing makes me sick.

  “Anyway, are you sure you don't want to come?”

  “I'm positive.”

  Hal talks for a while longer about some of her upcoming photoshoots and then leaves to head off to the auction by herself.

  I don't go, so she decides to send somebody to me.

  Two hours later, when my doorbell rings, I open it to find Rhoden Richards standing in the hallway.

  “What-are-you-doing-here?” The words tumble from my mouth in a gigantic bundle as I take a startled step back and Rhoden smiles at me, lifting up a bag of takeout in one hand. In the other, there's a bouquet of flowers. My heart skips a beat before I realize there's a ribbon attached to the flowers that says Double Dare Dog and Cat Rescue. Oh. This stuff is all from the auction. He is from the auction. “Did my sister buy you?” I ask and Rhoden laughs, the sound like chocolate flecked with gold.

  Yes, dramatic, but that is what he sounds like.

  “She overpaid,” he says as he holds out the flowers, a fresh bunch of white carnations. At least they're not roses. “But then, she also requested an extra special service: home delivery.” Rhoden lifts up his arm and gestures to himself. “I am your very own personal NFL player for the next two hours. I can cook, clean, walk the dog, whatever you want.”

  I notice Billy prancing up and down the hall behind him and step back to let him in. There's a moment there where I consider passing on this whole thing and sending him home. But … I just can't do it. That smile, it's like a slash of sex on his face. I want him here, just so I can look at him.

  “Sorry,” he says as Billy bounds into my apartment and straight down the steps to the living room, crashing into Little Dick with a play growl. “It was a rescue thing, so I brought my rescue dog.”

  Rhoden grins as he steps inside and watches the dogs go at it like crazy.

  “Although she sure as shit seems happy to be here.”

  “She's cool,” I say as I move into the L-shaped kitchen to look for a vase. Rhoden watches me and I realize with a sudden burst of shock that I'm wearing the worst possible outfit EVER. I've got on Rhoden's shirt, the one he lent me at the beach, and a pair of black exercise shorts that I've never bothered to actually use for exercising. They're just comfy as hell.

  Oh. And rainbow toe socks.

  I know, I know, nobody in their right mind wears toe socks anymore, but I'm not exactly in my right mind right now, okay?

  “Jesus,” I snap as I toss the flowers on the counter and run my fingers through my hair. “I've just … it's been kind of a crappy few weeks for me. Mind if I change?”

  “Why? Because you're wearing my shirt?” Rhoden asks as he moves into the kitchen and shrugs out of his black suit jacket. Underneath this one is a proper tie and white button-up, so much more dressy than he was at that fancy party. Guess he cares more about homeless animals than billionaires selling NFL teams to each other.

  It makes me like him more.

  Rhoden loosens his red tie and gives me one of those delectable once-overs, the ones I can feel, like he's scanning my body with a heated laser beam. The look makes my toes curl. In their rainbow socks. Yep, time to change.

  “I … it's laundry day and …” I grab the brown fabric of the shirt and pinch it, letting it drop as I suck in a breath. “Anyway, thanks for bringing this over.” I tap the bag of food on the counter as Rhoden takes his tie off and sets it next to his jacket. Then he unbuttons the first few buttons on his shirt, revealing a sexy swath of chest.

  Great.

  “You don't have to stay, really. I'm glad my sister's spending money at a charity auction instead of on clothes for once, but this isn't necessary.”

  Rhoden just smiles at me and winks—which is, of course, adorable. He kicks his loafers off like he owns the place and saunters into the living room, pausing at the side of Wisdom's cage.

  “Do you have a pussy?” Rhoden asks as he glances over his shoulder and smiles sharply at me. My knees feel weak. “I mean, since you've got a bunny and a dog, I thought you might have a cat.”

  “Real cute,” I say as I move down to stand beside him, his warmth bleeding into me even from a full foot away. “You want to hold her? I know most guys don't like rabbits.”

  Rhoden snorts and shakes his head.

  “I don't trust men who don't like animals,” he says and I laugh. “What? It's true. What kind of fucking asshole doesn't want to pet a soft, little fuzzy something?” H
e winks at me again and I blush. “Anyway, yeah, I do want to hold the bunny if that's alright.”

  “She kind of hates dogs,” I warn him as I open the cage and reach in, stroking my hand over the rabbit's glossy black ears before picking her up. I hand the bunny to Rhoden, setting her in his big sexy hands and looooooving the way he holds her with this gentle fierceness, this control of strength. There's a softness to the way he cradles the rabbit, completely at odds with his movements on the field, that predatory shuffle that gets the ball where it needs to go.

  God.

  God, God, God.

  “My mom had a lot of animals when I was a kid,” Rhoden starts as he moves over to the couch and sits down with Wisdom pressed against his chest. “She taught me respect and appreciation, kindness.” Rhoden flashes me a grin as he looks up from the bunny. “And she taught me to take my aggression out on pieces of shit who don't know how to respect animals. There's nothing cute about a man who beats up on kittens and puppies. That's just … it's wrong in so many ways.”

  I move over to the couch and push the dogs away, sitting down a full two feet away from Rhoden Richards. Not getting any closer than that, sorry. We've literally only interacted on five separate occasions and three of those ended in sex, so …

  “Where's Jasmine tonight?” I ask as Rhoden's gaze snaps up and captures mine.

  “Where's Walter?” he asks, an edge to his voice.

  “I asked you first,” I tell him as he soothes Wisdom with his hand, stroking her the way I wish he was stroking me … ahhhhh. Rhoden keeps eye contact with me which I appreciate. My dad and Walter do not hold my gaze, like ever.

  “I have no idea where Jasmine is, to be honest with you.”

  “She said you guys were dating?” I ask but Rhoden just shrugs his big shoulders and looks down at Wisdom again.

  “Yeah, well. She's full of shit, Della.” He looks up at me again, and I feel the intensity in that gaze like it's all the hell over me. “She got pissed when she found your panties in my pocket.”

  “Ooooooh,” I whisper as Rhoden smiles at me. I love the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, clean but not coated in product like Walt's. His facial hair is groomed, but not plucked and primped and manicured to high hell. And that mouth, oh, that mouth.

  “That's okay. I wasn't planning on seeing her anyway. We went on one date.”

  “Yeah, well, I know how your dates go. Maybe she got the wrong idea?” Rhoden laughs at me again, like that's one of the funniest things he's ever heard. As annoying as that is, I like the sound. His laugh is fresh and open and real, wild, free.

  “I didn't sleep with Jasmine.”

  “Seriously? I have a hard time believing that.”

  “I have a hard time believing a guy like Walter Virgil proposed to you without wanting to see what you were like in bed first. How's that?”

  “Rude.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I'm not saying I haven't slept with a lot of women. I'm just saying that I didn't sleep with Jasmine. I'm kind of in deep shit with the NFL if you haven't noticed, so I'm trying not to piss the league off anymore than I already have. I've been keeping it cool the last few weeks.”

  “Except for the few times you screwed the new owner's fiancée?” As soon as I say those words, I regret them. Rhoden's lips purse tight and the muscles in his arms get tense; he takes none of that out on the rabbit.

  “How'd the breakup go?” he asks me in a faux, casual tone. I look away, watch his dog bounce on her hind legs like a kangaroo as she invites the puppy for play again. My lonely living room looks so much better with all of us in it.

  The thought makes my heart hurt.

  “It …” How do I tell Rhoden about what happened with Walter? Can I? Do I? Should I? “It's a work in progress.” I sigh and put my hand up to my forehead, trying on a smile to toss Rhoden's way. “Should we dig into that food? I'm starving.”

  “I ditched the food from the event and grabbed Chinese on my way over here. I gave the rescue director and her wife our dinner instead.”

  “Stop being so altruistic,” I say. “What's wrong with you? I thought you were an a-hole.”

  “A-hole?” he asks, blinking up at me with lashes that are way too pretty for a man to have. “I've heard that I'm an asshole before, but not an a-hole. Nope. That's definitely a new one.”

  “Shut up,” I say as I stand and make my way into the kitchen. “All this charity stuff, like the art thing you agreed to for our date, is that to help shine up your image with the league?”

  “Sort of,” Rhoden says as he stands and puts Wisdom carefully back in her cage, coming over to the sink to wash his hands and watching me dig into my food. Oddly enough, he's picked most of Ariana's and my favorites up. Another coincidence? Or fate? “Your sister gave me food tips. Can't take credit for all of this,” he says as he gestures at the sea of white containers. Ah, so it was Hal—a girl who only thinks her middle name is fate.

  “This is great. I'm already having awful cravings.”

  I pause with my hand on the container. SHIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!

  “Cravings?” Rhoden asks, leaning against the counter next to me.

  “For kung pao. It's, like, been running through my brain all day, obliterating all my other thoughts. Maybe I'm addicted? I've been eating this stuff like five times a week.” I throw a grin at Rhoden and surreptitiously put some space between us, stealing some of Ariana's lines. That's one of her signature moves, to continuously and constantly complain about kung pao chicken. I have no idea why. Just another weird Ariana-ism, I guess.

  “Well, dig in. I bought three boxes. Hope you don't mind, but I need to get my weight up a little. I'm going to pig out like crazy tonight.”

  “Do you what you gotta do,” I say as I pop the top on my container and grab a fork to dig in. I can't stand people who put Chinese takeout on plates. It's like, why? No. This stuff was meant to be eaten in the box. I watch carefully as Rhoden does the same, joining me on the couch with his food. “If you lose that game against the Titans, I swear to God …” I point my fork at Rhoden as he grins at me again. “Don't ruin my Thanksgiving.”

  Rhoden snorts.

  “Trust me, we're not going to lose against the Titans. Not a snowball's chance in hell. The only player they have that's worth shit is Mariota, but I'm not worried about him.”

  “Cocky, much?” I ask as I take a bite of spicy, peanut-y goodness. My tummy rumbles happily as I let my head fall back.

  “Just a little. Hey, what's your super awesome surprise about anyway?” Rhoden looks up at me and then sticks his long, muscular legs out on my couch, the toes of his white socks touching my rainbow ones.

  “My … what?” I ask, feeling like my eyeballs are about to pop out of my face.

  “Yeah, from your blog post. You said you had a super awesome surprise to share. What is is?”

  I snort.

  “Like I'm gonna tell you. You'll just have to wait like … everybody else.” My heart starts to thunder inside my chest and I feel like I'm about to keel over from a coronary. Rhoden isn't everybody else. He's the freaking dad.

  “Craparoni and cheese,” I say and then groan when I realize I've said it aloud. Rhoden laughs his ass off at that and shakes his head.

  “You're one interesting girl, you know that, Della?”

  “I guess,” I say as I pretend to be super excited about my chicken, staring into the container like it contains all the answers in the universe. Are you there, Cheap Box of Kung Pao Chicken? It's me, Della. I think I got my first period today. Sorry, no more Judy Blume jokes.

  I look up from the container to find Rhoden already halfway into his second. I like the way he eats. He pokes a piece of chicken with his fork and then lifts it up for examination, sliding it into his mouth and then smiling with tightly closed lips as he chews. It's like he's savoring every single bite, enjoying the moment.

  “I could get us some wine?” I say and then realize he's probably planning to get smashed at th
e after-party when he leaves. “Or not if you've got plans after.”

  “Hit me,” he says and I raise a brow. “I can walk home later, so no big deal if I get slobbering drunk and start break dancing on your floor, right?”

  “Yeah, sure. If you do, I'm filming it with my phone and posting it all the hell over social media.”

  Rhoden laughs as I stand up.

  “Fair enough,” he says as I get us each a glass and drag a bottle of white wine into the living room to polish off our evening. Because I imagine that as soon as his paid two hours are up, he's out of here. I pour Rhoden a glass first, passing it over to him and trying not to shiver when our fingers brush together. He meets my gaze as he takes the wine, his smile this curved wicked thing on his face, like he's promising naughtiness with every bite.

  I am not going to last two whole hours with this guy in my house.

  I curl my rainbow toe socks beneath me, pour myself a glass of wine and set the bottle on the sofa table. It's only as I'm lifting the drink up to my mouth that I realize it: I shouldn't be having this. Right? Oh crap. I have no idea what, exactly, the pregnancy-alcohol rules are. It's, like, an across the board no, isn't it? My fingers twitch with the desperate need to Google it, but not with Rhoden staring at me across the couch like that.

  “Cheers?” he says, lifting his glass and saluting the space between us.

  “Cheers,” I say with a false smile, pretending to drink the wine, but letting it slosh against my lips instead. When I bring the glass down, I notice that Rhoden's damn near polished his off. “You know,” I say as I swirl my finger around the rim of the glass, “I've always kind of hated you.”

  “Oh?” Rhoden asks as he sets his glass on the sofa table and undoes the rest of the buttons on his shirt. I watch his fingers hungrily as the fabric parts and … reveals a white tank underneath. Damn, I think as he slides the shirt off his arms. But then … daaaaaaamn. Rhoden's tattoos are just … criminal. His biceps are so big and hard, the ink so crisp and dark, tracing the lines of his muscles and emphasizing how strong he is.

  My nostrils flare and I suck in a deep breath.