Jasmine places her hand on her chest and sighs. “You are so sweet.”
See what I mean?
“I couldn’t possibly want to spend time with anyone but you,” she adds a beat later.
“Aren’t I the luckiest guy?” he says and winks at her. “Can I buy you dinner, sweet pea?”
Jasmine melts. “Oh, my God. You are so adorable.”
“Take care, guys.” I walk away, making sure to stop by Aiden’s table on the way out. He’s not alone, but he’s not with a jersey chaser either. Doesn’t mean he won’t have his pick of women tonight, only that he hasn’t decided on who gets the honor.
Yeah, sometimes he’s a real douche, even more than I’ve ever been accused of being back when I was trying to get my player reputation just right.
I rap my knuckles on the table. “Don’t forget the bus to the airport leaves bright and early tomorrow morning, girls, so make sure you get lots of beauty sleep.”
Aiden, Colin, and Fred all flip me off.
“Oh, and Aiden, you’re losing, so I suggest you start upholding your end of the bargain,” I remind him.
“Soon as you find the girl and let me meet her, I’ll start spending quality time with Junior,” he says before finishing off his glass of scotch.
“Consider it done. Next time, don’t be a dick to a woman simply because you want to win.”
Aiden smirks. “Says the guy who’s going to use a woman so he can win.”
I don’t have a response to that, because he’s technically right. I do plan to do that… Except it occurs to me that neither of us said our challenge had to be a secret.
“Hey, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. Am I right?” I high five Colin and Fred, purposefully leaving Aiden out. “Night, fellas.”
* * *
Once I’m back in Raleigh, I drive straight home from the stadium. After I change out of my suit and into semi-dressy clothes, I shoot off a text to Sam.
Me: Need to go by the library. Wanna come?
Sam: Yup.
Me: I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.
Sam: Ok.
Just as I get in my Escalade, my phone buzzes and I hit my Bluetooth.
“Hello?”
“Drake, get your ass down to the library and book the event space before someone else does. Layton and Paige will help you with whatever you or your party planner needs.”
I grin. “You must have read my mind because I’m on my way there now.” I don’t tell her I’m picking up Sam on the way so he can run interference with Nolan if I need it. I love my fans, but I can’t get distracted by him again, or let Paige pretend to be on hold until I have to leave.
“Good. As soon as you have firm dates, I’ll get some buzz going for the event. I think this could become a huge thing in Raleigh, if we advertise it right.”
“It’s a charity event with world-class food, amazing music, and NFL players. What more do people want?”
“A silent auction, maybe a bachelor auction… make it more about them and less about you,” she suggests.
“It’s the Dallas Drake Foundation. How in the hell isn’t it about me? It’s not, but you know what I mean,” I bite out.
“Of course I know what you mean, but do you want to make a lot of money or not?” she asks.
What kind of question is that? “Yeah.”
“Then make the event a celebration about the people who are willingly giving thousands of dollars to your foundation. It’s your privilege to host them, not the other way around.”
“You have a point,” I admit grudgingly. “I’ll try it your way. If it goes well, then we’ll do it your way each year after that.”
There’s silence on the line. After a beat, I ask, “You there?”
Finley clears her throat. “I’m here… only a bit shocked you agreed with me.”
I should be offended, but I’m not. I’ve made Finley earn her money over the years with some of the stunts I’ve pulled. Yes, they’ve been good-natured and no baby-momma dramas or ex-girlfriends burning down my house, my car, or my jersey, but that being said, I know she’s tired of my partying ways, of constantly worrying I will have those dramas and burnings.
“My foundation means more to me than my career, and almost as much as my family.” I don’t go into the reasons why. Don’t want to because it brings up so many sad memories of my brother, Denver. “I’m willing to try another way of doing things if it means more money to help sick kids and their families.”
“That’s… that’s good to know,” Finley says softly, as if she’s apologizing for assuming the worst about me. “Anyway, I’ll text Layton to let her know you’re on your way.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asks.
Because if your sister knows I’m coming, she’ll find a way to avoid talking to me. “I don’t want any special treatment. If I have to wait because someone got there before me, then I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure I’m talking to Dallas Drake?”
“Pretty sure,” I joke.
“Well, if this is the new you you’ve been promising me, I’m liking it. Maybe you can find a nice girl to date, too.”
If she only knew. Actually, if she knew who I had in mind, she’d serve me my balls for breakfast.
“Just don’t get any ideas about my sister or her friend Layton—she’s engaged.”
No way I’ll agree to not having ideas about Paige… Her friend, however… “Have you ever known me to go after any woman who wasn’t available?”
“No, but there’s always the first time.” She ends our call.
“Aggravating as hell,” I mutter as I exit 540 and take a left onto old Falls of Neuse Road. I crank up my favorite station, focusing on the music and the drive. In less than fifteen minutes, I’m pulling into a parking spot near the back. It’s not until I’m almost to the entrance that I realize I forgot to pick up Sam.
“Son of a bitch.” I grab my phone from my pocket and send an apology text.
Sam: No problem. I can work on my passes instead. I’ll catch you next time.
Nothing bothers that kid. Ever.
Me: How did things go with Jasmine? I don’t want the dirty deets and Sam’s not the type to share them, but I, at least, want to know I did him a solid so I feel less like shit for blowing him off—unintentionally or not.
Sam: We had a great time. Thanks for introducing us.
Excellent.
Me: Glad to hear it. Later.
Sam: Yup
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I open the door with my free hand and step inside. The library is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Based on the bit of research I did, I know it used to be a mansion and the event space is on the third floor, where the ballroom used to be. It’s privately owned by an anonymous, but prominent family living in the eastern part of North Carolina. That’s as far as I got before the theme of Sports Center filled the speakers and I put away the laptop.
Right away, I spot Paige, her honey-colored hair like a beacon in the softly lit room. Today, she’s wearing a dress with a thin belt around her waist. It makes her tits look great and her hips look like they need to be grabbed… by me.
Even better, she’s climbing on a short ladder to put up books. It gives me a magnificent view of her amazing legs. The heels aren’t too bad either, although I prefer them a little higher.
She turns slightly, hair sliding over her shoulder to cascade down her back. The first time we met, she wore her hair up, exposing her neck and making me wonder what she’d taste like if I nibbled on her. But this time… all that hair makes me think of dirty, sweaty sex while I grip those long strands in my fist.
I move cautiously closer, keeping my eyes peeled for any of her coworkers. Sam’s not here to run interference, so I have to be extra-vigilant. The kid in me wonders if I have to use my spidey-senses to creep up on her while the adult in me is urging me to walk up to her like a man and ask her out again. I think the adult me is right. The kid in me m
ight be mistaken for a straight-up pervy stalker.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say as soon as I get behind her.
Paige screams, releases the shelf, and falls backward, arms flailing.
I surge forward. Instead of executing the perfect catch, like in a Hollywood movie, her elbow nails me in the kisser, one of her heels just misses puncturing my junk, and the back of her head slams against my windpipe.
Wheezing for air, I stagger back. It’s by sheer force of will alone that I don’t drop Paige on her head. I’ve been hit by harder but then again, I had safety gear on and I was expecting it. Libraries aren’t exactly known for contact sports.
My body connects with the hardwood and my head cracks against the floor.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan as stars burst behind my eyes.
Paige starts to shake.
Oh, shit. She’s hurt. “Tell me where it hurts, sweetheart,” I urge, rolling her so I’m on top but my weight is on my forearms. Doesn’t matter that she’s soft and firm in all the right places, or that her dress is hiked up to almost her waist. It sure as hell doesn’t matter that my lip, head, and thigh throb like hell… all that matters is that Paige is okay. That I didn’t somehow hurt her by accident.
I scan her face, just as tears start to run down her cheeks. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she looks like she’s going to…
Laughter bursts from Paige’s mouth. “That was the funniest thing ever.”
“You got to be kidding me,” I rasp.
CHAPTER 5
Paige
The one good piece of advice my mom gave me concerning men is that their egos are huge yet fragile and it takes the delicate, yet strong touch of a woman to handle them.
Leave it to a man I know only by reputation to drive that point home.
Dallas sits in my office, an ice pack on his lip and the back of his head. To be nice, and since it was my fault he’s in pain in the first place, I’m holding the one on his head, so he can have at least one hand free.
“Sorry,” I say for what has to be the tenth time in the past twenty minutes. “I didn’t get to explain myself before, but I wasn’t laughing at you…well, it was at you, but not your pain. Pain is not funny. When I fell out of a tree and broke my wrist at the growth plate, I laughed the whole way to the emergency room because that’s the only way I could deal with the pain. Finley didn’t order me to stop either.”
Dallas glances at me, his normally warm eyes icy. “Not sure how that helps.”
“Hopefully, it lets you know that I’m not laughing all willy-nilly.”
“Willy-nilly,” he mutters. “Who says willy-nilly?”
“I do, and to be honest, you’re not that soft. It actually hurt to fall on you.”
He arches a brow. “You weren’t exactly a pile of feathers.”
“Yeah… that’s not helping either.” I take the ice pack away and gently inspect the back of his head. “There’s a tiny,” he hisses, “bump here, but um, I’m sure if you go to the doctor that you’ll get fixed up in time for your next game.”
“You do realize that if I have a concussion, I can’t play this week.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “I didn’t know that.” Now I feel even worse for freaking out when I fell off the ladder. The dang thing is only three feet off the ground. I wasn’t falling to my death or into a pit of snakes.
I shiver.
Pushing away the thoughts of snakes and pits, I focus on Dallas. Although, I plan on making it up to him, I do need to say something about his sneaky ways.
“This could have been avoided altogether if you hadn’t sneaked up on me.”
His jaw works. “I spoke to let you know I was there, so I wasn’t sneaking up on you.”
This time, I’m the one arching a brow. “Next time, do you mind waiting until you’re standing on the ladder with me, or I don’t know… wait until I’m done with said ladder before scaring me to death?”
Dallas tosses the ice pack on my desk. “I guess you have a point.”
He’s agreeing with me? From my Google snooping, or Snoogling as I like to call it, everything about Dallas screams he is a cocky, confident man who has been known to argue with a referee a time or two. Then again, according to the article I read, Dallas argued with the ref over not throwing a flag for unnecessary roughness due to a player being tackled after the whistle was blown. That kind of behavior, the other player’s, I mean, is considered very poor sportsmanship and worth some sort of penalization.
So maybe he was right to argue… and maybe I’m wrong to assume the worst about him. Even Finley says he’s not that bad, which for her is practically an endorsement.
But not for us to date—I’m not that stupid.
Or am I…?
“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” I ask. Yes, that is a hopeful tone in my voice. I do want to go out with him, try something new, and see what happens. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to ask me out again. That ship has sailed based on his grumpiness.
“Have drinks with me tonight at 451,” he says.
The ice pack I’m holding plops onto his head, and he grunts. “Sorry. Dang it.” I grab the pack and toss it onto my desk, where it slides precariously close to the edge. “Yes, I’d love to have drinks with you. My treat, of course, since I’m the cause of your injury and… you can send me any outstanding bills.”
“Why would I do that? You didn’t make me try to save you, and I sure as hell could have finessed my approach better.”
“Drinks only, then?”
“Appetizers, too. My treat.” His infamous grin curves his lips. “Don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you due to an empty stomach.”
So smooth. I eye him. “You might want to get your head looked at first because I’m pretty sure that alcohol and concussions don’t play nice together.”
He salutes me. “Will do.”
I fist my hands on my hips. “Did you come by here to see me, or to see the event space?”
He bites the unbruised side of his lip. “Would it bother you if I said both?”
My stomach flips at his answer. “No. I like honesty.”
“Then you’re going to love this,” he says with a serious look in his eyes that is in direct opposition of his tone, “because I need you to help me win a bet so a fellow teammate can get some mentoring.”
Intrigued, I reach across my desk and drag my office chair around. The floor is smooth and the feet have wheels, so it’s relatively easy to do. Plus, I’m pretty sure Dallas is checking out my ass right now and I kind of like it.
Plopping down, I cross my legs and lean forward. “Tell me.”
“You might not like it.”
“Do we have to kill anyone?”
His brows shoot up to his hairline. “No, but it’s kind of scary and insulting that you’d go there first.”
“Had to be asked.” I shrug. “Does it involve snakes… or pits?”
“No animals or holes in the ground.”
Oh, thank God. “Do we have to rob a bank?”
He stares at me for a beat before saying, “We don’t have to do anything illegal.”
“Gotcha.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and wink. Why? Because I’m a dork, that’s why. “Do we have to clean a house or a car… cook dinner… find a book or a ring to rule them all? Wear matching t-shirts?”
“Dinner is on the menu, but the rest… no.” He shakes his head, as if he’s trying to clear it of my suggestive questions. “I need to go out with a nice girl so my teammate can get mentoring from our quarterback.”
My stomach drops to the floor. Well, I did say I like honesty. “Is that why you asked me out the first time?”
“Hell no.” He sounds so offended I can’t help but believe him. “I asked you out because I liked the way those pink stickers looked on your tits and the fact you allowed a complete stranger to talk you into being cuffed. Seemed at odds with your blushes and conservative outfit, which
meant you were… are the perfect naughty librarian for me.”
My eyes widen and my mouth falls open, then I start laughing. I can’t help it. It’s my nervous reaction go-to. “I did ask.” I exhale. “Okay, so we got that out of the way. What makes you think I’d help you?”
That cocky grin of his returns in full force. “Because you’re interested, no matter what your sister says about dating a guy like me.”
“Who told you I was Finley’s sister?” I ask, perplexed.
“Sam Riley.”
“Who?”
“He’s the guy who needs my—our help.”
“No clue who he is.”
Dallas fixes his green gaze on me. “He sure knew who you were—light hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet of him.”
“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
I tap my chin. “Maybe he saw a picture of us in Finley’s office. Last year on Mother’s Day, I gave her a framed picture of us. It has the word sisters etched at the top.”
“That makes sense. Sam’s a pretty observant guy.”
“You’re not? Because if I recall correctly, you were the one to find my missing stickers.”
“They were in my favorite spots.” He winks at me, and my face gets all hot. “Anyway, I avoid your sister’s office at all costs. To be called in is like getting sent to the principal’s office. No offense.”
“None taken.” I can’t deny that my sister is a stickler for the rules and has almost unattainable standards. “Why does Sam need mentoring from your team’s quarterback?”
“He’s second string and needs the field time. Aiden won’t admit it, but I’m pretty damn sure he’s close to retiring.”
“He wants to leave at the top of his game,” I muse. “He’s always been like that.”
Dallas’ brows crash together. “You know him?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
“More context please.”
“Aiden’s from my hometown. He and Finley dated in college,” I explain. “They both majored in Sports Management, and they broke up their sophomore year. It’s old news, which is probably why you didn’t know. Most people don’t. Might be in his management contract to never mention it. Let’s just say it wasn’t the best of breakups and the saga continues.”
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