CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1

by Chance, Jacob

  “Really?” he asks, letting out a quick laugh, and I nod. “What about me says five star dining?”

  “I don't know, exactly. I guess I assumed you like attention and would eat at places where you’d be treated like a celebrity.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a five star dining experience from time to time, but more often than not, I grab takeout from here or a couple of other local places.”

  “Thank you for introducing me to this shop. It’s close enough to my office that I can add it to our list of places to grab lunch from.”

  “You seemed to enjoy your sandwich.” He tips his chin toward my empty plate.

  “Ya think?” I ask. “I pretty much inhaled it.”

  “Excuse me.” A couple of college-age girls stop beside our table. “Would you mind if I took a picture of you guys?” one of them asks.

  “Sure,” Flynn readily agrees. He takes hold of my hand, reminding me of our agreement that I seemed to have forgotten about for the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Our eyes meet and he smiles at me.

  “Aw, that was a great picture,” the girl says, reminding me we’re mid photo op here. She takes a few more with both of us smiling her way.

  “Would you like me to take a picture of you girls with Flynn?” I ask.

  “Oh my God. Yes, please.” They both giggle with excitement. Pushing back my chair, I stand and take the phone from her. Flynn springs to his feet, moving between the girls but keeping his distance. He places a hand on each girl’s shoulder, and I capture the moment for them.

  Handing over the phone, I settle onto my chair once more. They call out a thank you as they walk off, and Flynn lowers to his seat across the table.

  “Mr. Superstar, everyone wants a piece of you,” I say.

  “Nah, it’s not always like this.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “Okay, it’s not always so many in one day. It just depends on the luck of the draw. Some days there may only be one or two.”

  Propping my elbow on the table, I rest my cheek on my fist. “I can’t even imagine that. No one has ever asked me for my autograph. And no one ever will.”

  “It happens here more than when I’m back in Massachusetts. I’m kind of invisible there.”

  I doubt what he’s saying is true. He may think he’s invisible, but this man is noticed everywhere he goes. Even with shorts, a faded t-shirt, and a cap spun backward, he still has an air about him that makes him stand out. He has that “it factor” that sets him apart from everyone else.

  “How often do you make it back home for a visit?” I may have known Flynn since he graduated college, but I don’t know all the ins and outs of his life. In the off season, we only talk when we need to for business purposes.

  “I spend a lot of my time in Boston in the off season. But this time of year, I don’t have a chance to visit. Unless there’s a specific reason for me to head up there.”

  “Do you miss it much?” I ask.

  “Not really. Kendra is down here, so I see her all the time. Hell, my best friend is on the same team as me. That’s something we used to dream about back in our days at Boston University. And we have you to thank for facilitating that.”

  “I bet the two of you raised some hell in college,” I say.

  He grins, a quick flash of his straight, white teeth. “We had a lot of fun, for sure. Our frat was made up of some great guys. We still keep in touch with them. You’ve no doubt heard of a couple of them—Trevor Lincoln and Owen Dawson.”

  “The players on the Patriots?” I ask, a little in awe that they all went to the same college and lived together.

  “Yep, that’s them. Clancy Wilde lived in our frat too,” he tells me.

  “Wow, was there something in the drinking water that gave you guys an athletic advantage?” I jest.

  “Back then, we drank beer more than anything else.” He smiles.

  “When’s the last time you saw your frat brothers?”

  “I see Trevor and Owen more than anyone else because we play them twice each season. But every summer, all of us spend a weekend together in the Hamptons at Trevor’s family’s house.”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun. It’s like a yearly reunion.”

  “Exactly. It’s always a great time, and their wives and kids come too.”

  “Are most of your friends married with kids?”

  “Most of them are. Darren and I are holding out as long as we can.” He laughs.

  “Are you afraid of that kind of commitment?” I question, wondering if he’ll answer.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of it, I’m just not sure I’ll ever find someone I want to spend that much time with.”

  “Your parents are still married,” I point out.

  “I don’t think my parents are the best example.”

  “Why not?” I press.

  He tugs on his earlobe as he thinks it over. “They might be a good example of loving each other and being faithful, but when it came to parenting, they didn’t do such a great job.”

  “I always got the impression you weren’t particularly close with them, but I never knew why.”

  “They didn’t beat us or anything, and we were always provided with whatever we needed.” He takes a sip of water and I watch the muscles in his neck flex as he swallows.

  Who knew drinking water could be sexy?

  “I’m not sure how to explain the way my parents are without sounding ungrateful, and I’m not. They gave me the tools I needed to get to this point, so they did a lot of things right.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I offer, hoping to make this easier on him.

  “No, we’re mid-conversation and I want to finish explaining.” He inhales as if he’s trying to prepare himself for the truths he’s about to spill. “My parents are ridiculously in love, to the point of excluding others. As their son, it felt like they didn’t have much love left for their kids.” He watches his fingers spin the plastic bottle cap on the table.

  I remain silent, thinking over his words. This confident, successful man didn’t feel loved growing up?

  “Flynn,” I call his name, drawing his gaze to mine. Pain swirls in his blue depths before he steels his gaze once more. “It’s okay to talk about this. You’re not disrespecting your parents.”

  He clears his throat. “It’s not that. Thinking about this stuff and speaking about it makes me feel weak, and I don’t like that.”

  “Opening up about your past makes you strong, not weak. Have you spoken about this with Kendra?”

  “I have, and she feels the same.”

  “Does it help that she had the same experience?” I ask.

  “Yes and no. Yes, because I didn’t imagine it all. But at the same time, I’d feel better if she hadn’t. I don’t want her to think she’s not worthy of their love.”

  “The Kendra I know is a strong, capable young woman. I don’t think you have any reason to be concerned.”

  He shrugs. “As her older brother, it’s my job to worry about her.”

  This loving, protective older brother is a new side of Flynn I’ve never been exposed to before. It’s endearing to find out this bad boy athlete, who has access to millions of dollars and the world is pretty much at his disposal, worries about his little sister so much. It’s sweet enough to give me a cavity. I find myself smiling at him.

  His brows draw together. “What?”

  “You’re a good brother. Kendra is lucky to have you.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know that she’d agree with you. I think she’s sick of putting up with my bullshit.”

  I snort. “Aren’t we all? But that’s on a business level, not a personal one.”

  “Yeah, I guess she’s going to enjoy the next couple of months then.”

  “Because she’ll get a break from the PR nightmare that you are?”

  “Yep. What will she do to stay busy with all the free time she’ll have?”
/>   “Don’t worry, she’ll have her hands full answering questions about us,” I say.

  “Speaking of, when’s our next outing?”

  I pull out my phone and bring up his schedule. “Looks like we’ll be attending a miniature golf event for Hope House tomorrow night.”

  “Tell me a little about what they do,” he says.

  “They oversee housing for adults with special needs. The funds raised will be spread amongst all the houses that are run by that agency.”

  “Sounds like a great cause, and I don’t need to dress up.” He winks.

  “This will be the perfect opportunity for you to wear a pair of your new khakis,” I tell him.

  “I can do that, but the sweater isn't happening.”

  “Flynn, you looked really good in them.” I try to change his mind.

  “I can’t golf in a sweater, Nadia. It’ll restrict my movement and throw off my skills. Plus, it will be too hot. I’m from Boston. If it’s fifty degrees, I want to wear shorts.”

  “No shorts allowed. We’re going for a new look. You can wear a collared shirt.”

  “Okay. I’ll wear a short-sleeved shirt that’s not a t-shirt, and my khakis.”

  I break into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  “You said car keys instead of khakis.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I said khakis.”

  I giggle some more. “You misunderstood. Your accent sounds like you’re saying car keys every time you say khakis.”

  He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here. If we’re golfing tomorrow night, I need to study game film tonight.”

  We walk to his truck with our hands joined, and he opens my door for me just like a real boyfriend should.

  He may not have felt his parents’ love growing up, but he sure learned how to treat a lady. I’m feeling less worried about our ability to pull this charade off. And mini golfing will give us another opportunity to spend time together in a smaller setting with fewer eyes on us.

  9

  Flynn

  Practice was backbreaking today and every inch of me hurts. All I want to do is shovel steak and potatoes into my mouth and lie on my couch watching TV for the rest of the night. Instead, I took a scalding hot shower, inhaled a protein bar, and picked up Nadia from her place.

  Now, we’re in a decent sized crowd made up of professional athletes, city officials, and local television personalities. I can’t show how exhausted I am, or that I’m weak with hunger. Events like this always seem to run when I normally eat dinner, and they have plenty of alcohol but no food to speak of. It’s like they’re trying to encourage outrageous behavior, and I’m embarrassed by how many times I provided the entertainment. Hell, if Nadia wasn’t by my side I’d probably fall into the same old trap all over again.

  It’s amazing what a calming presence she is for me. What is it about her that instantly settles the storm residing within me?

  Glancing down at her beside me, her small waist enfolded in my one-armed embrace, a sense of pride hits me. She’s a stunning, successful woman, and I’m fortunate to have her with me. Glancing around, I take in all the attention she’s garnering from males and females alike. Everyone can appreciate her natural beauty, especially me.

  She turns, gazing up at me. Her dark brown orbs calmly study my face, and it hits me like a three-hundred-pound defensive lineman. No matter what crazy shit I’ve done, I’ve never felt judged by Nadia. I’ve given her many opportunities where she could have. And I’m finally coming to understand how much she’s been my rock all along. I just didn’t realize it.

  She leans her head against my chest, still watching me. “By the way, you look very nice in your khakis.”

  “Thanks to you.” Smiling down at her, I press a soft kiss to her forehead. Her eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture before she straightens up once more, placing distance between us.

  “The black polo was a good choice,” she says.

  “Flynn,” a local news reporter calls my name, letting me know it’s my turn to play.

  “Looks like I’m up. How about a kiss for luck?” Tapping my cheek, I lean down closer to her. I figure there’s a chance this could go either way, but having her kiss my cheek is a lot more probable than my lips.

  Nadia rises to her toes and gently presses her warm lips to my skin. The simple contact sends a pleasant hum of awareness traveling through my body.

  Nadia backs away, and a hand on my arm pulls me away before I can see her expression.

  I’m handed a putter and led to an area where I’m photographed with the local city officials before being sent to the first hole on the mini course.

  The cheap putter I’m using is about a foot too short for me and has me missing the custom one sitting in my golf bag at home. I’m forced to bend way over, folding myself up like a beach chair, just to keep it at ground level.

  The first putt is a straight shot and it disappears inside the hole. Off to a good start, I move to the next part of the course. This time, the golf ball has to go through an archway half the distance to the hole.

  As I set up my shot, it occurs to me that I’m taking this way too seriously. You don’t make it in professional football if you’re not a competitive person by nature. That side of me isn’t something I can turn on and off. No matter what I’m doing, I want to crush it. I want the lowest score on this course and I’m going to do my best to make sure it happens.

  The second hole goes as well as the first, and I find my gaze wandering over to Nadia to see if she’s watching. She is. Our eyes meet and we both smile. Just as I’m about to look away, I notice Levi sidling up to her. Seeing him standing next to her and talking with her irks me. I step away and the wolves move in.

  Still feeling annoyed, I flub my next putt. Anger hits and it’s all I can do not to chuck the piece of shit putter skyward. Or break it over Levi’s hard head. It’s only Nadia’s encouraging smile directed my way that soothes the brewing storm stirring inside of me.

  Taking a calming breath, I remind myself to focus on what I’m doing. I’m able to make it through the next few more complicated holes, only adding six more strokes.

  Glancing over at the scoreboard, I notice I’m in good shape as long as I can keep my focus.

  Maybe I should avoid looking in Nadia’s direction until I’m finished with my game. It’s not that she’s a distraction for me, but watching other guys flirt with her will be. I know she’s completely on board with being my fake girlfriend, and that means she wouldn’t disrespect me by flirting back. So why did I get so bothered that Levi was talking to her?

  My eyes sweep over and find him still talking with her. A spark of anger flares. My chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe, like a vise is squeezing my lungs. I force myself to look away and drag air in through my nose. Get a grip. This is ridiculous.

  My brief self pep talk works, and the rest of the holes go better than I expected. I win by seven strokes and I’m given a gold cup to hold while more pictures are taken, but I’m not allowed to take it home. My competitors congratulate me and more photos are taken. My mouth is dry and stiff from smiling so much.

  Nadia appears at my side and throws her arms around me, pleasantly surprising me. “You were awesome.”

  I hug her back, savoring the sensation of having her in my arms. “Thank you. That was fun.”

  “You looked like you were having a good time,” she says.

  If she only knew that Levi almost had a golf club permanently attached to his head, she wouldn’t be saying this.

  “Can I get a picture of you both?” a photographer asks as he takes a continuous stream of pictures of us.

  I laugh. “Aren’t you already?”

  His shoulders twitch with an almost indiscernible shrug. “Yeah, it goes with the job, and pictures are money. But I’d like to get one of you posed.”

  I look to Nadia for her approval and she nods. Slipping my arm around her, I curl my fingers aro
und her hip. Feeling proprietary, I tug her closer, until we’re connected with the curve of her hip against my outer thigh. Placing her hand on my chest, she curls her torso into mine. I’m hyper aware of the side of her breast resting against the top of my rib cage. Judging by her stuttered exhale, she is too.

  Knowing I’m not the only one affected by our close proximity is screwing with my head. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be, like what it would be like to kiss the fullness of her bow shaped mouth. Or what her naked tit would feel like cupped in my hand.

  As soon as the photographer finishes snapping a slew of pics, I drop my arm from around Nadia. Looking troubled by my abrupt release of her, she steps back until we’re no longer connected.

  Catching hold of her hand, I lead her from the mini golf facility to my truck. We’re both silent as I pull from the parking lot onto the main road. I’m not sure why Nadia’s being quiet, but I know my reason. My body’s reaction to her, and the troubling thoughts that ensued as a result, shook me to my core.

  She’s my agent and someone I care about platonically. I can’t let our fake relationship, or the time we’re forced to spend together, cloud things. Even though we need to hold hands in public and act interested in one another, I won’t lose sight of why we’re doing this in the first place.

  I must not cross the line between a business relationship and a personal one, no matter how attractive Nadia is. Boundaries and limits have never been my strong suit, but in this case, they need to be. I’ll do anything to save my career, and having Nadia as my agent is more important to me than scratching a sudden itch with her.

  She’s not the type to sleep with someone and not let her emotions get involved. While I’m the opposite. I lead with my dick—not my heart.

  When this night began, I envisioned taking her out for a late dinner, but here I am, pulling my truck into her driveway. Neither of us had spoken a word the entire drive. Whenever I’d swing a glance her way, she seemed just as lost in her thoughts as I am in mine. Nothing good can come from either of us talking about the tough situation we’re in.

  Shifting into park, I don’t shut the engine off. I don’t even get out to walk her to the door like I have been. My manners have flown out the window, and I’m afraid my restraint will be next if I don’t keep my distance from her.