The Lie : a bad boy sports romance

by Karla Sorensen

  Silence from my dad had me wincing. “Where’d they go?”

  “I took them out because I had all those buckets from the car wash event. I think they’re sitting on my kitchen counter.”

  “Faith.” He sighed. “This is one of my family rules. Always keep—”

  “Jumper cables in the car,” I finished. “I know. I’ll go in and see if Keisha has some. I just wanted to let you know I might need a new battery since this happened last week too.”

  “You sure you don’t need me to come get you?”

  “No, I just didn’t want you to freak out if I’m late for that meeting about the foundation dinner. Kim said you’d be there.”

  My dad sighed again, a sound that had me grinning because I heard it all the time. Between me and my twenty-year-old sister Lydia, it was the thing we heard most, actually. And if I was the do-gooder princess (according to one cranky football player) then my younger sister was the one who would actually cause my parents to lose their minds. She lived to cause trouble.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind about the help.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” he answered gruffly.

  Just as I was tucking my phone back into my pants pockets to go ask Keisha for a jump, the familiar sound of a loud truck had me pausing. Because I’d heard that truck leave the community center parking lot not that long ago. Shading my eyes from the sun, I watched Dominic Walker pull back into the lot.

  His eyes were covered by black aviator shades, and when he slowed next to my car, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t tell where he was looking because I felt his gaze like he trailed a finger down my spine.

  How had I described him earlier? A dangerous animal.

  When he shut off the engine and got out of his truck, he didn’t say a word as he approached even though he removed the sunglasses.

  Because he was so much taller than me, I had to tilt my chin to look up at him. Dominic was so big, everywhere. His shoulders, the length of his arms, the span of his chest, and his hands. He was just … impressive.

  “Forget something?” I asked. Why was it hard to get those words out? My lungs felt sucked clean of air, nothing to support my ability to speak easily.

  He still didn’t respond, but I saw his eyes snag on the gold chain that laid flat on my chest, the pendant tucked against my skin.

  His chest expanded silently, and I found myself holding my breath. My shoulders were bare because I’d taken off my blazer and pulled my hair back.

  “Need a jump?” he said in a rough rumbling voice.

  My heart skipped at the implication. I hadn’t been … jumped in a good long while. It wasn’t even a good jump at that. And my palms went a little sweaty when I tried to imagine us. Doing that. Except I didn’t date football players because … rules. Important rules for important reasons that I tried very hard to remember when he looked at me like that.

  “What?” I asked, voice breathy.

  He raised one eyebrow sardonically. “The car?”

  I blinked. “Yes. I think I do.”

  Dominic gestured to my vehicle. “Cables?”

  “On my kitchen counter,” I said sheepishly.

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. When he ambled to the back of his truck and opened the silver lockbox in the bed, I rubbed the back of my neck. He still hadn’t said why he came back.

  And suddenly, I found myself quite desperate to figure out why.

  Dominic

  Being near her, with almost a hundred percent certainty that she was Turbo, my hands could hardly stop shaking as I pulled the jumper cables from the lockbox in my truck.

  Tell her, tell her! the angel on my shoulder screamed.

  Briefly, I glanced at where she was waiting by the hood of her car, but keeping that glance brief took all the discipline I’d honed as an athlete. I didn’t want to look at her in short windows and small glances. I wanted to devour every inch of her with thorough study, this woman who’d become one of my closest friends in the past few years.

  It all made sense. Every piece of it.

  Faith Pierson was a helper. She wanted hands-on ways to give, to do, to serve. And it reminded me of the very first conversation we’d had, where she replied to a comment I’d left on the Woodland Park Zoo social media account, asking about the koala. She wasn’t even an official volunteer if I remembered correctly, but her friend worked there, and she helped out on occasion.

  This woman, who organized flag football games for little kids, when she probably should’ve been sitting behind her fancy desk, had a heart the size of Mt. Rainier.

  My eyes pinched shut as I thought about all the things I’d said to her and the ways I’d sneered. My fist curled around the jumper cables as I braced myself to walk back in her direction.

  If she was Turbo, I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. So many levels separated us, and it wasn’t even just her upbringing versus mine. Faith was a good person, and I was the guy who always listened to the dude with the pitchforks and horns as he whispered to my subconscious. Tear down all those good things around me before I could possibly get hurt.

  At that moment, the embarrassment was just as potent as it had been in the Washington locker room. It made my tongue freeze instantly, words cramming up in my throat like a traffic jam. What could I even say?

  She was waiting, hands on her hips, hair up-swept and her eyes shrewd with study.

  “Why did you come back again?” she asked.

  My lips tightened into a line. “I, uh, needed to check if I forgot something.”

  The lie was … sort of not a lie.

  I did want to come back to check on something. On her. Sitting in my truck, two minutes down the road, I’d hardly thought it through when her reply came through that she’d spent the morning playing football.

  In no less time than it took me to take a breath, I’d peeled out of the parking lot and turned my truck back toward the community center.

  It’s her.

  It’s her.

  It’s her.

  And the second I saw her, still as beautiful as she’d been earlier, but somehow more beautiful because she was also the other version of her that I knew, my heart kick-started in a way I’d never experienced.

  For the first time in my life, I imagined how I’d greet her if she actually felt happiness at the sight of me instead of immediate wariness. I’d slide my hands into her silky, dark hair. I’d tip her face up to mine, crowd her against the hood of her car, and slide my lips across hers. I’d taste the line of her pink mouth until she opened wide, and I could use my tongue and feel her hands on my back.

  But the second she gave me that look, that Little Miss Sunshine look of oh shit, now what, the image dissipated like smoke. Because Faith Pierson wasn’t excited to see me. She might’ve been my type before I knew who she was, but I was clearly not hers.

  Because I’d been the world’s biggest asshole to her. For no reason other than the family she was born into.

  While she watched, I hooked the jumper cables up to her car, and thought about what I should—or could—say.

  There was no way to tell her who I was, not yet. And as I caught a whiff of her bright, fruity shampoo as she leaned in closer, I knew I didn’t want to be done with this interaction. It was too fast.

  I straightened, removing the clips from her battery.

  She looked at the engine and then back at me. “I think those work better when they’re attached.”

  Swallowing my impulse to laugh, I lifted my chin at her driver’s seat. “I want you to try starting it again. Let’s make sure it’s the battery, not the starter.”

  Faith pinned me into place with those big eyes of hers, and the questioning look in them had my throat going as dry as the fucking desert. Not just questioning what I was doing but also questioning me. And I couldn’t blame her.

  So far, I’d given her absolutely no reason to trust me.

  “My battery h
ad issues last week too,” she said, making no move to get into the car.

  “Can you just try?” When her lips twitched, I added, “Please.”

  “Well, look who found some manners today,” she mumbled. As she climbed into her car, which probably cost more than my parents’ house when they bought it, I caught the edge of a smile on her pretty face.

  Again, the sight of that smile did insane things to me. It was the kind of rush I only usually got playing football. Making a great catch. Scoring a touchdown. And now, I could add making Faith Pierson smile to the list.

  While I waited, she turned the key in the ignition, but there wasn’t even an attempt for the engine to turn over. She lifted her hands.

  “Did you hear the click?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “It’s your starter, not your battery.”

  Her face scrunched up in an adorable grimace, and holy fuck, I was thinking words like adorable grimace.

  How quickly the tides had turned.

  “Well, I guess I didn’t want to go to my meeting this afternoon anyway,” she said, climbing out of the car and joining me as I closed the hood.

  “I can take you to work.”

  Her dark eyebrows, somehow just as expressive as her big eyes, popped up in surprise.

  “You’d drive me across town?” she asked, clearly skeptical.

  Leaning my hip against the front of her car, I gave her a slight grin. “Thought about making you walk, but… I think your mom would really hunt me down after that.”

  Faith tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, a gesture I’d seen her do a few times now.

  Her hair looked so soft. If I rubbed that piece between my fingers, it would feel like silk. And just like that, all I wanted to do was bury my nose in it, pull her scent into my lungs, and stand next to her car in the afternoon sun and listen to her talk about all the things we normally messaged about.

  Already, I knew so much about her.

  She loved her parents and was still getting used to her promotion at work.

  Given a choice, she’d work with animals or kids, getting dirty and sweaty every single day because it brought her joy.

  She hated french fries—which was a crime in my mind—but she loved eating cereal for dinner, which we had in common. And none of those things could help me right now when she still couldn’t understand why I’d want to be nice to her.

  Like I could tell her the truth. That she was the only bright spot in my life after Ivy died. That she was the only woman with whom I’d shared anything real with.

  Every other woman in my life had been there for a meaningless interaction, one they’d move on from just as quickly as I had. And in front of me was the one person who understood who I was underneath all of that.

  And she had no fucking idea it was me.

  The end of her hair snagged on her necklace as she pulled her hand away, and she winced.

  I couldn’t help myself as my fingers started tingling with the need to touch her. I stood and faced her. “I’ve got it,” I said quietly. “You don’t want to break the chain.”

  Faith stilled as my finger brushed the side of her neck. Carefully, I slid my finger underneath the dainty gold links, pulling gently until the charm was free from underneath her shirt.

  My heart thrashed behind my ribs as my gaze caught on the delicate curl of the top of the snail’s shell.

  It was her. Unequivocally.

  I’d found her without even trying. Without even really wanting to risk finding her, of ruining that one perfect friendship in my life.

  And when her chest rose and fell on a shaky inhale, I realized that I wasn’t the only one affected by this. Faith was staring at my throat, not even attempting eye contact. As I gently untangled her hair from the chain, I allowed myself one moment to enjoy the cool, slippery softness of it against my skin.

  “There,” I said quietly.

  Faith stared up at me, her mouth slightly open, confusion stamped all over her pretty features. “Thank you.”

  I hummed, studying the charm again. If I risked anything else, it would be nothing as bold as what I’d just done.

  Child’s play, considering what I wanted to do to her.

  It wouldn’t take mere hours in a bed with her because it was so much bigger than sex. Days. I’d need days or weeks of undivided time with Faith. To see her wake up, know what she looked like when she got out of the shower, to feel the texture of her skin against my tongue and wind my fingers through hers as I held her down, to curl my body around hers to see how we fit together as sleep took us.

  Maybe I should have been scared at how quickly my feelings toward her could shift from disdain to unfettered desire. But there we were. And even if Faith was confused by the shift in my actions, she felt it too.

  Something palpable existed between us, something strong enough that I felt like I might be able to grab onto it with both hands. She opened her mouth to say something, and I found myself holding my breath to hear what it might be.

  “You guys are still here?” Keisha’s voice broke between us, and Faith blinked rapidly.

  In my head, I cursed at the intrusion, but maybe it was for the better.

  “My car won’t start,” Faith said. “Dominic was checking it for me, but I’m going to need to have a tow come get it later.”

  “I’m heading back toward Kirkland,” Keisha said. “I’ve got a meeting in about an hour. Want me to drop you off somewhere?”

  I held my breath as Faith gave me a quick glance under her lashes. “Yeah, thank you, Keisha. That would be great.”

  “I guess I’d want to ride with someone besides me too,” I said dryly.

  And I couldn’t blame her. Not really.

  Faith gave me a small smile. “I appreciate your help, though. Thank you for offering.”

  “Anytime,” I told her. The way her cheeks flushed a sweet pink color, I knew she heard the double meaning.

  The two women walked back to Keisha’s car, and with my hands in my pockets, I watched them get in.

  Something dark and powerful filled me, something that made the devil on my shoulder whisper into my ear. Could I win her like this? Could I win her over as me? With the bad attitude and awful start, with the tattoos and the way I’d stormed out of her mom’s office.

  Faith gave me one last curious look through the windshield, and when the sun glinted off the golden chain laying against her neck, I knew which voice I’d listen to.

  Faith

  “What do you mean you don’t want to go watch? We always watch the first few days of these mini camps together.” My dad, standing across the kitchen island, crossed his arms and gave me that look that he was so good at, that I hated so much. “It’s tradition.”

  I fidgeted with my necklace. “I just … can’t I skip this year? I’ve got so much to do at the office today.”

  His eyes narrowed. Allie walked out of their bedroom, and he softened long enough for her to give him a soft kiss. She gave me a look of her own. “You’re not coming to camp? It’s tradition.”

  Oh, what could I tell them that wouldn’t be a blatant, full of shit lie?

  Any truthful answer would send my dad into orbit. Well, Dad, I imagined myself saying, there’s this asshole player who got in trouble on day one, and everyone hates him. He was a total jackass to me the moment we met, but something happened yesterday in that parking lot, and that something different was sexier than about eighty percent of the times I’d actually slept with someone. And now I don’t want to be faced with him again because I caught myself dreaming about him last night. It was definitely an NC-17 rated dream, involving a truck bed and jumper cables and a thin gold chain in his big, big hands.

  So no, I didn’t want to go watch the mini training camp.

  I didn’t want to stand on the sidelines while he did physically impressive things that made me want to break my rules about dating football players.

  Which was why, for the first time in like, ever, I want
ed nothing to do with the Washington Wolves.

  When Allie cleared her throat, I had to blink my thoughts away from my face because my parents were staring at me expectantly.

  “You know I love going to the first couple of mini camps,” I told them, speaking slowly, so I didn’t tell any bald-faced lies. And it was true—I’d been at every one since the age of like six. Maybe even younger. Back when I’d sit on the sides, watch my dad line up against the new players for some friendly scrimmages. It was Washington tradition, and I loved it.

  The team had been in my blood even before Allie came into our lives.

  But not once had a player wearing one of those red and black jerseys ever made me feel the way Dominic did in that parking lot. Guys in Camp One—who wanted in Lydia’s and my pants simply because of who we were—were the easiest to overlook. They were the reason it was one of my family rules. I’d made the rule because of a guy like that. Players in Camp Two—the ones who saw us as asexual beings that they’d never touch in a million years—never even attempted to get a reaction out of us.

  But I knew now, Dominic didn’t fit into either of those.

  Dominic Walker had not looked at me like I was asexual anything. No, he looked down at me like I was the juiciest, most delicious thing he’d ever seen, something sweet he wanted to devour.

  If Keisha hadn’t walked out, I would have taken him up on his offer. I would’ve broken my rule, and there was no way for me to lie about it, even to myself. It was the most un-Faith-like thing I could have done, and something was really freaking scary about that.

  My dad spoke, and yet again, I had to yank myself from the horrible, horrible direction of my brain.

  “We talked about this last week, and you said you cleared off your morning at work.” The stubborn set of his jaw had Allie smiling slightly. We both recognized it.

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” I hedged. The hem of my T-shirt was wound tightly around my finger, another nervous gesture I hadn’t even realized I was doing. I focused my energy on that one small spot of white cotton. We all wore our Wolves gear, my dad in a long-sleeve T-shirt with dark jeans, Allie in a tank and black blazer, skinny black pants and red shoes, and I was in my white fitted T-shirt and jeans with holes at the knees. Wardrobe alone, they should have called me on my bullshit when I’d shown up for our traditional pancake breakfast before heading over to the practice facility.