Auction Time: Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County BK3

by Gray, Khardine

  Eric Declan…

  Even if I were blind, I’d still know who he was, and not because my father owned the team he played for.

  The gorgeous linebacker for The Centaurs wasn’t just famous on the field, but also for being a known playboy.

  “Mia Cartwright.” He beamed as he looked me over.

  “In the flesh,” I answered.

  This was the first time we’d spoken even though we’d seen each other many times.

  He was my sister’s best friend’s friend, so I’d definitely seen this guy a few times. Always with a woman on his arm.

  He jumped out of his truck and walked around to me displaying the rest of the masterpiece that made him, him. He was tall, tall and had the kind of muscle most would kill for. In his tight white T-shirt and Levi’s hung low on his hips, every ounce of perfection was on show.

  “What happened here?” he asked, motioning to my car.

  “It’s a piece of junk,” I scoffed.

  “You calling a Porsche a piece of junk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, is this just today’s car or something, and you have more tucked away in your garage?” He chuckled, and his eyes sparkled.

  “I do not. This is my car, and it’s totally a piece of junk because it keeps breaking down.”

  “Did you call recovery?”

  “Yes, there’s a two-hour wait.”

  He looked at all the fixtures under the hood and bit the inside of his lip.

  “I could fix it, but I don’t have my tools. If you want, I could give you a lift home in an hour. I know a quick way.” He gave me a mischievous smile.

  “A quick way?” I wasn’t aware of anything of the sort.

  “Yes, just on the outskirts and back in, so we’ll miss the traffic.”

  Well, an hour did sound better than two or three. But an hour with him, then some to get home?

  I tended to avoid athletes as much as I could. It was like that after Tim. Couldn’t help myself and I didn’t really want to. My mind had been set and I’d been given no reason to change it.

  The waiting here for the breakdown services was almost better.

  Almost. He flashed me a smile that made me melt.

  I took a quick breath in to clear my head. I’d learned that when dealing with any kind of athlete, the worst thing you could do was allow them to see you swooning over them. You had to treat them like they didn’t affect you one way or the other.

  “So, what do you say?” he asked.

  “Where are we going for an hour? If it’s to see some woman or a groupie and I have to sit and wait, I think I’ll pass.” I raised my brows and gave him a pointed stare.

  He laughed. “Miss Mia Cartwright, I can assure you we won’t be seeing any women or groupies. I have a thing I do on Thursdays.”

  “A thing?” Sounded mysterious.

  “A thing.” He tilted his head to the side, and a lock of his black hair fell over his eye.

  “What is it?”

  He started walking back to his truck and glanced back at me over his shoulder. “You’ll have to come with me to find out.”

  I couldn’t resist the little smile that pulled on the corners of my lips.

  Much as I was wary of athletes, I had a soft spot for a guy who could blend mystery and play together.

  He got in his truck, looked back at me, and I decided I’d go with him.

  I grabbed my purse from the car and hopped in the passenger seat of his truck.

  He revved the engine and set off.

  “So, where was Mia Cartwright off to on this fine afternoon? I was under the impression that you’d be off pampering yourself somewhere like Switzerland.”

  “Is that what you really think I do?” I had to ask because he’d made that car comment too.

  “Well, you are filthy rich. Your father owns me. I reckon if he can own people, then Switzerland must be like an afternoon trip for a girl like you.”

  I shook my head at him. “He does not own you.”

  “Right, I’ll remember that the next time he tells us he owns us.”

  “He actually said that to you?” That didn’t sound like Dad, but then Taylor was always talking about how Dad was with her at work. Just before he handed the PR company over to her and she got with Dylan, she told me Dad was the boss from hell. Sounded like he might be like that with his teams too.

  “He did. Those words came right from the horse’s mouth. It’s the Super Bowl in two weeks. He practically threatened to skin us alive if we didn’t win.”

  I didn’t know all that much, but I’d heard they had a shot.

  “Well, I hope you win.”

  “Thank you. I hope so too.”

  I continued to stare at him, and when he glanced at me, I looked ahead to the open road.

  “I was going to the ballet with my mom. That’s a thing we do.” I borrowed his word.

  “The ballet?” he clarified.

  I nodded and fully expected him to say some off-key thing about ballets because they weren’t for everyone, but he shocked me with his next question.

  “Which one?”

  I had to look at him. I doubted he’d know the different ballets showing at the opera house. Most people tended to know Swan Lake and The Nutcracker. Anything else was a mystery. The one I was going to see was like that.

  “I don’t think you’ll know it.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s called Mariana. It’s being put on by a small dance company, so they aren’t really known.”

  “That’s cool. Is it like the poem?” he asked, and I narrowed my gaze.

  It was like the poem, but there was no way he’d know which poem it would be about and… he said poem.

  Most jocks I knew didn’t read poetry. They didn’t even know what poems were.

  “Yes, it’s based on a poem. An old one.”

  “Tennyson old?” he asked, and when my lips parted, he chuckled, deep and hearty, smooth yet masculine.

  “You know who that is?” I was shocked that he would, for a guy people called The Dog.

  “I do. Alfred Tennyson, brilliant Post-Romantic poet. Wrote a ton of lyrical narratives and dramatic monologues. I like him. He definitely had the whole escapism thing going on. Reminds me of Shakespeare. Different writers, but I get a similar feel from their work. People think that escaping means running away. Sometimes you can be doing nothing, but your mind can take you anywhere.”

  I was listening. Listening in shock, albeit, but listening.

  “I think that too. I’m just surprised you know all that.”

  “Don’t be. I did English Literature back in college instead of the business degree I signed up for. I’ll let you in on a little secret. My Dad doesn’t know that.”

  I laughed. “How come?”

  “Well, I was supposed to follow in his footsteps and run the family company. But all I wanted to do was play pro ball like my uncle. He got a bad injury that took him out of the career but he was a legend. He taught me about poems. It helps with focusing. I figured if I have to go to college, then I’ll do something that would help me in some kind of way. So, I switched up my degree without anyone knowing.”

  He definitely had me hooked. “That’s cool. College wasn’t really for me. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I did business for a year and called it quits. I’ve worked for my dad ever since.”

  “Oh God, you work for him?”

  “In marketing. I don’t do much. I just…” What could I say that didn’t make me sound like a complete ditz? In reality, I just turned up for work, but I didn’t really do anything. “My job doesn’t really involve all that much.”

  “Well, that’s not always a bad thing. It gives you time to think,” he surmised.

  I guess I did do some thinking, but most days saw me finishing up early so I could get ready for my dates. At one point, I’d had a date every night with a different guy. That had been fun, and it still was, but after a while, it kind of got redundant. Goi
ng out every night was nice, but it was getting to that stage where it felt like a drag to get to know a guy for a few days and then that would be it. I’d never really been in a serious relationship.

  I’d just dated and I went for the military types not just because they were buff with perfect bodies. I knew it was because the majority of them wouldn’t be looking for anything serious. Just like me. The fun girl.

  I still liked fun, but it would be nice to have something a little more and connect with a guy on a deeper level. I’d seen Taylor do it with Dylan, and it was beautiful. She had the kind of romance a girl could swoon over and get lost in, not to mention that he treated her like a queen.

  It would be nice to have someone treat me like that.

  Ten minutes later, we took the turning that led to downtown L.A and instantly, the scenery changed. There was a lot of traffic going the way we’d come, backup from the accident, not much though going our way.

  I usually didn’t come down here. There were a few cool night clubs, but the area was a known for trouble. Especially where we were driving through.

  “Okay, I’m super curious now. Where are you going?’” I asked.

  “Just here.” He pointed to the entrance of James Porter High. We drove in and parked in the parking lot. There weren’t many students around, or anyone much for the matter. It was after six, so that didn’t surprise me.

  “So, now I’m very curious,” I stated when he reached for a duffle bag in the back that looked like it contained some football gear.

  “I work with a bunch of kids who like football. It’s like a club. We play for an hour every week. They don’t have a lot of funds here, so a bunch of guys and I decided we’d start a program.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing.” I could honestly say this guy was definitely impressing me in more ways than one.

  We got out of the truck and headed across the field where there were about twenty teenaged boys and who looked like the bunch of guys Eric was talking about. Except they weren’t any run of the mill bunch of guys.

  There was Josh Mancini, Gage Montgomery, and Scott Emmerson, ex-Gladiator players who were now all coaches. Scott coached the college team at UCLA while Josh and Gage currently coached the Gladiators. Gladiators, as in the other team Dad owned.

  I may have had my dislike for jocks, but even I knew who these guys were. To me, they were what I called the sexiest men alive.

  “Hey, princess, what took you so long?” Josh barked when he saw Eric.

  They wouldn’t have recognized me. They’d know who I was if I told them my name, but they wouldn’t have recognized me in person.

  “Helping damsels in distress,” Eric said, glancing back to me.

  Gage rolled his eyes at him. “Women are a distraction, Eric.”

  “Maybe I needed the distraction,” he answered and glanced at me.

  I shook my head at him.

  “I’ll just go over to the bleachers,” I told him and made my way over to sit.

  I was practically out of sight, out of mind while they played what Dad would call a mean game of football.

  It was nice to watch them with the kids. What they were doing was nice. One hour of game play for kids who were clearly talented with the best football players this side of the planet.

  It was the longest I’d ever watched any game, and I found myself watching Eric. The time flew by and felt like a blink by the time he jogged back to me.

  Sweat dripped down the side of his face and made his hair look damp.

  “Wow, you guys were amazing,” I beamed.

  “Glad you think so. I seemed to play a lot better tonight than I ever have. Maybe my distraction turned out to be a lucky charm.” He looked me over with a sexy smile.

  “I really doubt that.”

  “It’s true.”

  I pressed my lips together, then smiled. “Well, it certainly was a lot better than waiting by my car.”

  “Glad I could oblige. Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  We got back in his truck, and he was right; we drove out to the outskirts and got to my place heaps quicker than I would have on a normal day.

  While he drove, we talked. He told me about his training, then we talked about the ballet I’d missed and the poem it was inspired from.

  “So, you coming to the game?” he asked as he pulled up on my drive.

  “No,” I answered simply, shocking him.

  “You’re kidding, right? You’re not coming to the Super Bowl?”

  I sighed. “This will probably surprise you given that I sat through an hour of football, but I’m not really a fan.” I felt it was best to leave out the part about me hating athletes.

  “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “Well, how am I going to see you again?” There was a twinkle in his eyes that scattered my nerves and warmed my insides.

  “You want to see me again?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other around. Abby and Gilly are always doing some sort of thing.”

  “That’s different. What if I wanted to see you by yourself?”

  He held my gaze, and I realized I was going to have to tell him that I didn’t go out with jocks.

  “I don’t hang out with athletes, ever. Today was as rare as seeing a leprechaun.” Now I was borrowing my grandpa’s words. He was Irish and always talking about how rare leprechauns were, as if they actually existed.

  “What about Gilly? You hang out with him.”

  “He’s family. He’s like the brother we never had.” I nodded.

  “Okay, so what if I asked you out?”

  “I don’t date athletes.”

  His mouth dropped, and I laughed. “So, you’re saying you’d tell me no?”

  “Not used to hearing that word?” If he said otherwise, I’d know he was lying through his teeth.

  “I confess I have not heard that word in many moons. So, that’s a straight-up no?”

  “I’m afraid so, Eric Declan.” I giggled and opened the door to jump out. “Thanks for today and the lift. I’m grateful.”

  He got out too and walked around to me. “What if we went to the ballet? You missed it with your mom. I could take you.”

  I stared at him. “Really? You’re going to take me to a ballet?”

  “Of course, if you let me.”

  “That might not be a good idea. I’m being serious about the whole athlete thing. No offence but most of them are a bunch of Neanderthals.”

  He held up his hand like he just got an idea. “What if we plan to go to the ballet but not together, and we just happen to both be there at the same time? Not on a date, not hanging out, but there, and we talk like we did today?”

  I chuckled, and damn it, he was melting my resolve with his efforts. If Abby or Taylor knew I’d turned this man down so many times, they would have thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. He did seem quite unlike the standard jock.

  “So, we could be there but not really together?” I asked, playing along.

  “Yeah. I could just happen to run into you on Saturday evening at six. We watch the ballet as we’re there at the same time, and then we’d have something more to talk about. Maybe I might surprise you, and you’ll see I’m not a Neanderthal. You might actually like me.” He gave me a cunning smile. “What do you say, Mia Cartwright?” He said my name in a purposely slow seductive way that dissolved the rest of my will.

  “Okay… I could do that.”

  His smile widened. “Great, see you then.”

  I gave him my trademark one-shoulder sassy shrug and walked up the drive to the door.

  God, I’d just basically arranged a date with a jock. But maybe Eric Declan might indeed surprise me.

  It would be kind of nice.

  Chapter 5

  Eric

  * * *

  Present day…

  Mia: Can you let me know when you’re free to meet? I have some ideas. Kind Regards, Mia Cartwright.


  Jeez, she really was doing her best to sound all business like.

  Kind Regards…

  I didn’t even sign my letters like that, or emails. I just about closed off with my name.

  I had a PA like all the other players, so she got the task of worrying about appropriate salutations.

  Yesterday was not good when I spoke to Mia. It all still felt like a lost cause, and while I could be free now, I was having a late lunch with my parents.

  The chef had just served the meal, and Mom was giving me that look of disapproval because I had my phone out. She hated it at the table.

  “Business,” I told her. She frowned, but her forehead had so much Botox in it her face looked weird.

  “Can it wait?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll just respond quick.”

  Eric: Tomorrow. Can you meet me at the stadium at five?

  The blue dots jumped almost instantly.

  Mia: Sure, see you then.

  That was it, just business, and tomorrow would be business too.

  Dad gave me a pointed stare, and I put my phone away.

  It wasn’t often that he called these lunches. In fact, I hardly ever saw my parents more than once in any one month.

  It was more so after Rory’s imprisonment. I just had too much on my mind to be around Mom or Dad for too long. Mom in particular because there was an anger that rose in me every time I really thought of the situation and what she’d done. She’d been with Rory and cast me off as Dad’s child. An affair, obviously, because my parents had been together for thirty-five years.

  “I know you picked Rory up from prison,” Dad suddenly said.

  The chef who’d been serving the food tensed on hearing that. I noticed how quickly he set down the tray of roasted spring vegetables near Mom and departed from the dining room.

  God knew what must have been said within these walls because Dad had all but disowned Rory after that whole stint.

  “I did,” I answered.

  “Why? You know how I feel about the whole thing.”

  “Dad, I have no problems with him. He made a mistake, and now he’s okay.” I knew Rory wasn’t okay. Far from it. He was just going through the motions and doing his best with what he had. Working through the situation.