Ballbuster (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 1)

by Lane Hart

  On Monday, I’m back on the field first thing. No rehab, just practice for the first time all season.

  Instead of sitting idly by while watching Roxy, I’m right there with her, warming up with a quick jog, stretching out on the ground beside her. And then, we’re lining up at the thirty-three-yard line to practice extra-point kicks.

  She nails her first one, and I…miss, the ball going wide left.

  Huh.

  Maybe I just haven’t warmed up enough. It was my left knee that was fucked up, so I didn’t expect to have any real problems making it through the uprights using my kicking leg, the right one, once I was cleared for play.

  I lay down while Jon comes over and stretches me out a little more, watching as Roxy moves back five yards at a time, making every ball our equipment guys give her.

  “How did your left leg feel?” Jon asks while pushing my left knee to my chest.

  “Fine,” I tell him.

  “You work your leg over the summer?”

  “Of course,” I tell him. Not only did I run a few miles almost every day, but I spent at least an hour in my home gym doing leg lifts, squats and the whole drill. At least twice a week I went out to the local college field and practiced kicking from near and far. Just a few days before the accident I made a sixty-five yarder, so my leg was in perfect condition.

  Once I’m back on my feet, I practice a few air kicks and then set up the metal tripod holder to try once more from the thirty-three. Again, the ball careens to the left, but thankfully slips through the goal post.

  I make the forty-yard try but miss again at the forty-five.

  “Are you planting your left leg enough when you kick?” Roxy comes over and asks.

  “Yes,” I mutter in frustration.

  “Well, you’ve got all week, so don’t rush and overdo it today,” she says. “Maybe you just need a little more time to recover.”

  “I’ll be ready on Sunday,” I tell her, even if there is a shred of doubt that five days isn’t enough time to get back to where I was before she hit me. And, yeah, the accident is still a nagging thought I can’t seem to get rid of.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kohen

  We’ve just finished dinner Friday night when my cell phone suddenly starts pinging with new messages. I haven’t looked at it in a few hours, so I grab it off the kitchen counter to check emails and shit while Roxy does the dishes --- manually, since she’s still not confident enough to use the dishwasher.

  As soon as I open up my text messages from Lathan, I see a photo of Roxy and me kissing on the front deck of the boat. It had to have been from just the other morning when she made me breakfast and right after she gave me a blowjob in the kitchen.

  It takes a few seconds before the panic sets in.

  Someone took our photo.

  Who the hell was it? And how the fuck did Lathan get a copy?

  I scroll back up to the beginning of his messages to read through them. I see “holy shit” and “gossip rag” before “Kohen, you are so fucked.”

  Just when I was about to get back on the field, this shit comes out? Ruining me. It’s only a matter of time before the team’s management calls and tells me I’ve been cut for violating that fucking contract about not touching Roxy.

  “You okay?” Roxy asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.

  That’s when everything starts making sense. Since the very first day I met her…

  “Did you do this?” I ask.

  “Do what?” she asks, grabbing the dish towel to dry her hands before turning around to face me. God, with her hair up in her pajamas, she’s so damn beautiful. Even now. And I’m a fucking idiot. All over again.

  “You fucked me over, that’s what!” I exclaim, barely refraining from throwing my phone that’s clutched in my fist.

  Roxy reels back from my harsh words. “Kohen, what’s going on?”

  “Did you hire a photographer? Is that why you insisted we have breakfast outside that day?”

  “A photographer?” she repeats with a scrunched forehead. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, so please just calm down–”

  “Bullshit!” I yell. “That’s why you freaked out. In the hotel room, after you fucked me the first time and then found out I hadn’t signed the contract. You were planning to screw me over the whole time! And like a complete dumbass, I signed that shit and then fucked you again anyway!”

  “No, I didn’t –” she starts, but I interrupt.

  “Shut up, get your shit, and get the fuck out of my house!” I tell her.

  Roxy gasps before her shoulders slump forward and big green eyes glisten, breaking out her killer acting skills.

  “Kohen, wait. Just talk to me! You-you can’t mean that –” she says as she starts to come closer to me.

  “Yes, I do,” I assure her, holding my hands up to ward her off while seeing red. “You better stay the fuck away from me,” I warn.

  Chest heaving, I find my keys and get the hell off the boat, so angry I don’t even trust myself around her, another woman I thought I loved, but she was only playing me.

  Now, because of her, I’ve lost everything.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Roxy

  After kicking every black marked football in my box through the uprights, I slump onto the grass at the twenty-yard line, not caring if it’s wet. My face is too, so now my ass can match.

  Hugging my knees to my chest, I can’t stop thinking about the photos of Kohen and me. The ones that have been popping up all over the Internet. Who the fuck took them? Sure, the marina isn’t private property, but only Kohen’s teammates and family know his houseboat is there.

  “Room for one more in your pity party?”

  I squint into the early morning sun up at Quinton, wondering what he’s doing out here so early.

  “Yeah, sure. But you better have brought your own tissues. I’m all out.”

  Chuckling softly, Quinton takes a seat next to me on the grass. “So you and Kohen are more than roommates? I had wondered…”

  I stay silent, figuring there’s no reason to spread more rumors.

  “You worried they’re gonna boot him?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I answer. That’s why I didn’t sleep at all in the hotel room bed last night. “And Kohen, of course, thinks this was all part of my evil plan to screw him over.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Ditto,” I agree with a sniffle.

  “So then just talk to management and try to convince them to keep him. And find out who the fuck took the photos to clear things up with Kohen.”

  “Sounds easy,” I mutter sarcastically. “I’ll get right on that.”

  “You won’t know unless you try, right?” he asks.

  “He signed the contract,” I tell him. “Actually, he didn’t. Not at first. After we started…being more than roommates, he told me that by some oversight he never signed one. So, the bitch that I am, I got another copy and forced his signature on it.”

  “Hmm. That’s not good,” Quinton offers helpfully, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “So, why would you have him sign it if you two were more than roommates?” he asks.

  “I was…it’s stupid,” I admit, pulling up a blade of grass and sniffing it. The oniony smell has always comforted me, reminded me of home and made me happy. “I didn’t want Kohen to tell anyone about us. With the contract hanging over his head…”

  “He would have an incentive to keep his mouth shut,” Quinton finishes.

  “Yeah. But now Kohen thinks it was just me plotting to bring him down, like Dane. Like when I ran him over.”

  “One of those was an accident, and the other was completely different. Dane threatened you and tried to force himself on you. He had to go. Maybe they won’t kick Kohen off the team.”

  “I never wanted to take his job from him,” I say. “When I came here, I thought I would sit on the bench and learn from him unti
l he decided to retire or go to another team. He should have the starting spot because he’s better. That’s the truth, but he’ll never believe me.”

  “He doesn’t trust you.”

  “Definitely not,” I agree, tossing the blade of grass and plucking a new one.

  “You ever wonder why that is?” Quinton asks.

  “Because I ran him over the first day we met?” I offer.

  “No, maybe his trust issue doesn’t have anything to do with you. What if that’s been his hold up for a while now?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, turning to face him. His jet-black hair is growing out but still taking the shape of a rooster’s comb.

  “Kohen ever tell you about Lola?”

  “Ah, no. Lola? Why? Who the fuck is she?” I ask, unable to help the surge of jealousy at the unknown woman.

  “Kohen’s ex-fiancée.”

  Oh my God. He was engaged to marry some woman?

  “When was that?”

  “A few years ago,” Quinton answers. “They broke up my first season actually. Because of me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was new to the team, didn’t even know all my teammates’ names yet. Kohen threw a party to celebrate buying his new houseboat. That night I met a beautiful woman, one who flirted with me, and things got heated pretty quickly. We fucked, and then I found out she was Kohen’s fiancée.”

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim.

  “Yeah. Kohen went apeshit on me, thought I knew about them and screwed her anyway. I may be a player, but I also have morals and had no fucking idea they were seeing each other. Of course, I wouldn’t have touched her if I had known…”

  “Wow.”

  “I felt bad and never even thought about her again. But she didn’t disappear after stomping on Kohen’s heart.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She married Coach Powers a few months later.”

  “No shit? The team’s defensive coordinator?”

  “Yep. They just had a baby together, a girl, I think. So, now can you see why Kohen may have trouble trusting women?”

  “After that sort of past, yeah,” I agree. “Poor Kohen. What a bitch!”

  Quinton reaches over and grabs one of the discarded balls. “Manipulative bitch,” he reads from it. “Bingo. We have a match.”

  Kohen and I both have been screwed over by people we cared about and who were supposed to give a shit about us. But this time, he’s wrong about me. I just have to figure out a way to show him that I care about him.

  Pulling out my phone from my coat’s zipper pocket, I call up Winona. “Hey, girl. How are you holding up?” she answers.

  “I need your help,” I tell her.

  “Anything.”

  “Can you find out who took the photos? And, more importantly, how they knew which one out of all the dozen or so marinas in town was Kohen’s?”

  “I’ll try my best,” she says. “You still laying low?”

  “As low as I can go,” I assure her.

  “Good. I’ll call if I have any updates.”

  “Thanks, Winona,” I tell her before ending the call. “Will you go with me to try and meet with management?” I ask Quinton.

  “Lead the way,” he says, getting to his feet.

  Luckily, the owner, manager, coaches and PR team were already gathered in a conference room discussing the situation when I showed up. I went in and stood before them as confidently as possible even though most of them were in expensive suits and I was in a ragged pair of shorts and pink jacket with grass all over me. Had I even showered before I left the hotel room? Nope, don’t believe so.

  “Thanks for giving me a moment of your time,” I tell them. Someone offers me their chair, but I decline, wanting to stand up, take responsibility and get this over with. “I’m sure you’ve all seen the photos of Kohen and me together. And I know he signed the same agreement as everyone else, but he shouldn’t have. He and I have been…romantically involved for several weeks. I should’ve brought it to the team’s attention or quit or something, I’m not sure what. Well, I shouldn’t have started anything with another teammate…”

  “Miss Benson –” one of the men start, but I interrupt him, knowing he’s going to say it’s too late. That I can’t change their minds.

  “Please don’t punish Kohen for something that was entirely my fault. I-I’m the one who made the first move on him. It was stupid, I know. But have you ever just cared about someone so much that nothing else mattered? I guess what I’m trying to say is that he was more important to me than this chance of a lifetime. So, I’m the one who should be released from the team, not him…”

  “Miss Benson –”

  “No, please,” I beg, blinking back tears. “He’s much better than I am, and maybe he’s not back to where he was last season, but he will be. And again, it’s my fault for hitting him with my Jeep. I have done nothing but hurt him since I got here, and I’ll do anything it takes to keep him from losing his job as the team’s starting kicker.”

  “Miss Benson?”

  “Yes?” I ask, sighing in defeat.

  “Could you please sign a written statement declaring that you and Mr. Hendricks were having a consensual relationship?” one of the lawyers asks.

  “No!” I exclaim, gritting my teeth in anger and crossing my arms over my chest. “I won’t sign anything for you to use to get rid of him. Did you hear anything I said?”

  “Miss Benson,” the owner, Mr. Wright, starts. “As long as you and Mr. Hendricks were having a consensual relationship, he won’t be going anywhere. This document is just to protect him and the team from possible future lawsuits if the relationship were to…end badly.”

  “Huh?” I mutter in confusion.

  “No part of your contract or his says that romantic relationships between teammates are not allowed. The same would have applied even if you had been male,” Mr. Wright clarifies.

  “But the contract addendum…”

  “Was for your protection in cases of unwanted misconduct like that of Dane Adams.”

  “Oh.”

  “So will you wait in the lobby until the document is drafted to go ahead and sign it today?” one of the lawyers asks. “You can call in your manager too since she’ll need to sign off on it as well.”

  “Sure. Absolutely,” I say. “I’ll get her in here right now.”

  “Great, so glad that’s settled,” Mr. Wright says. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to make plans for our first home game of the regular season.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry for all the trouble,” I tell them, quickly slipping out the door.

  “So?” Quinton asks when he stands up from the waiting room chair.

  “There’s no problem,” I tell him with a smile. “Kohen gets to stay, and everything is fine. I just need to sign a statement assuring everyone that it’s consensual.”

  “Wow, that’s great. See, I told you everything would work out,” he says, offering me a hug.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Now if I can just figure out a way to convince Kohen to trust me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kohen

  The end is upon me.

  Saturday afternoon, I’m sitting in the team’s administrative office lobby, waiting for them to give me the axe.

  This moment is a long time coming. It’s almost as if I knew from the second I saw Roxy’s face on the projector screen that first day that she was gonna be my downfall. Even knowing that I couldn’t resist her. Sure, I’m angry at her for screwing me over, breaking my heart and taking away my career, but it’s my own damn fault.

  “Come on in, Mr. Hendricks,” a guy in a suit I don’t recognize says to me when he opens the conference room door.

  I get to my feet, aware that my left knee seems to shift a little to the right under my weight before I walk into the room, a death march of sorts.

  “Have a seat,” the same guy says, motioning to an empty chair. I glance around as I lowe
r myself down, seeing the team’s manager, owner, Coach Griffin, Coach Bradley and two men in suits are present.

  “I’m sure you know why you’re here,” the owner, Mr. Wright, starts.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So, the only question we have for you is whether or not you were in a consensual, romantic relationship with Miss Benson.”

  “I know what it looks like,” I tell them, remembering every single last detail from the four photos that the press got their hands on thanks to Roxy. One was of me leaning down to kiss her in her chair on the deck, one of the two of us standing while lip-locked, and two dark photos from the night we had sex outside on the deck. In the first of those, Roxy is still dressed, in another, her naked skin glows in the darkness, her breasts and ass blurred out. Knowing someone was watching such a private, intimate moment makes me want to break shit. And then thinking that the moment wasn’t even real makes me want to destroy everything in my sight. “I know what it looks like,” I say again. “But honestly I don’t know what we were. It wasn’t a relationship…”

  “It wasn’t?” Mr. Wright asked, confusion wrinkling his brow.

  “No. It was a lie. She made me sign the contract addendum, and then she…coerced me outside so that someone she set up could photograph us, making it look like we were together.”

  “Huh. That’s not what Miss Benson said,” Mr. Wright replies, leaning back thoughtfully in his leather chair.

  “Then she’s lying. And it’s complete bullshit that none of you can see the manipulator she is. She wanted me gone so she could have my spot, and it worked! That’s why I’m here, right? For you to give me my walking papers?” I ask in annoyance, fists clenched so tightly my fingers may break.

  “You think Miss Benson wants you kicked off the team? That she set you up trying to get rid of you?” Mr. Wright asks calmly, which irritates the fuck out of me even more.

  “Yes! That’s exactly what she did!” I assure him.

  “Then why do you think she came to us earlier today and begged us to keep you and release her from the team instead?”

  “Because that’s what she does! She manipulates…Wait, what?” I ask, my words drying up as his statement begins to sink in. Was that a trick question?