Big Man's Second Chance

by Penny Wylder

  Still, it hadn’t stopped me from trying. I still wanted her, I still wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. I tried harder in school, got tutors so I’d place at the top of all my classes. Even with all that effort I never managed to get more than a C average. I felt every bit of the dumb jock she thought I was. I just wasn’t any good at school. What I did know how to do was run and dodge, how to tell exactly where a football would land as soon as it left the quarterback’s hands. As soon as I saw the threads on the ball spinning, I became a walking, breathing machine. I could see numbers and angles and trajectories. On that field I was superhuman. It’s why I was the best. It’s why I have more money than I know what to do with. And that made me happy for a time. It made me happy to buy a beach house for my mom out in California. It made me happy to send my little sister off to culinary school and buy her the food truck she wanted so desperately after she graduated. It made me happy to start the Hope Center as well as the other numerous charities I’ve started. I loved going to all of the events and visiting schools when I could. All of that made me happy. Mostly.

  But there was always something missing.

  The Hope Center brings me immense joy, and not just because I’m able to get Claire back in my life—though that is definitely part of it. A large part of me wants her to see that her “big dumb fuck” is more than just that, of course, but I also want to give back to Chicago. It’s a city that has cheered me on and supported me for the past eight years. I’m coming to the end of my career. I know this. My age and the mild, yet persistent pain in my left knee is a constant reminder of that. It’s time to take more of my money and put it to good use. Getting slight revenge on the woman who haunted my most erotic dreams is a byproduct. The only problem is that her light floral scent still lingers. Her memory is a poltergeist. No matter how hard I work out in the gym, how hard I go at practice, or how fast I sprint the track, I can’t outrun the thought of her.

  I had my assistant dig into Claire’s life. I guess some might call that internet stalking. I consider it smart business. I would have done the same for any candidate I had in mind to run a major clinic like the Hope Center. The only difference is that each time my assistant came to me with new information on Claire, I held my breath and shook with anticipation.

  I learned that she’s not married and never has been. Social media didn’t reveal any long term relationships or anything serious. After a few months, specific guys sort of dropped out of her pictures. She’s currently single. In fact, being new in town, she’s hardly had the time to socialize and meet new friends. Like me, her job has been her entire life. Everywhere she’s worked she’s received honors and accolades. I guess that’s how people like us get to where we are. She thinks we’re so different. At least I know she thought of us that way in college, but we’re really not different. We’re both driven and passionate and successful.

  I go into the bathroom and take a shower. As I let the warm water wash over my shoulders, I decide it’s time to stop pining over Claire Alverez. I’m going to do something about it.

  3

  Claire

  It’s been a month since I started my job at the Hope Center. An incredible month at that. I’ve never managed such a large staff before, and I was worried about how they’d react to me. I am pretty young to hold such an important position. The doctors are young, but they’re at the top of their field. I’ve worked in a lot of hospitals and clinics, and the nursing staff here are some of the best. They’re experts in patient care and have a proactive approach to their jobs. I’m finally in the swing of things and couldn’t be happier. In the short time the center has been open, we’ve helped hundreds of patients from earaches to an emergency appendectomy. The only thing that has shaken my confidence in the last month is the appearance of AJ Hargrove.

  It’s been weeks since the blue ribbon cutting ceremony. It took me longer than I hoped to get my shit together after seeing him, but I think I’m finally feeling like myself again. With every (relatively) smooth day that passes, I gain just a little more confidence. Running such a major medical center is no joke. It’s a lot like managing a company, but the choices I make can literally be the difference between life and death. Not to mention being in charge of over a forty nurses’ and doctors’ livelihoods. With all the responsibility, it’s easy to let myself fall into dark thoughts, like I don’t deserve this, or that I’m a fraud. But seeing as I haven’t managed to burn the place down in a month or cause a staff riot, I’m feeling less and less like a charlatan.

  While I’m at work and seeing patients and dealing with staff, I’m in my element, I’m hyper-focused. It’s like I feel completely comfortable in my skin and in my life choices. But as soon as my shift is over and I’ve clocked out, my mind always wanders to the same thing. Him. I think about his hand around mine as I held the scissors to cut the ribbon. I think about how good he looked in that suit, the smell of his cologne, his perfect hair, those gorgeous baby blues, those scars. He has enough money to have a world class plastic surgeon make them disappear, but he’s not vain like that. His scars are just part of him. He chooses to spend his money on the good of his community.

  And when I’m through thinking about every detail about him, I think about my life. The quiet in my home after the constant din at work leaves me anxious. I spend so many hours at the clinic that I’m so lonely when I get home. The extra room on the couch when I watch television and the empty side of the bed at night never used to bother me. But now I feel the cold air beside me as I fall asleep. Have I made too many sacrifices for my career? As much as I love medicine, at night, alone in my bed, I yearn for something else. And as the blanket of sleep falls over me most nights, and I let my defenses down, I can’t help but feel it’s AJ I’m yearning for.

  I also can’t help but think that hiring me as the head of the Hope Center is part of some sort of a personal agenda. What does he want from me? At the ceremony he looked at me like no time had passed since the night of that party after the big game. I know I hurt his pride that night. I was intentionally cruel. That’s just how I get when I fear that feelings might be getting involved. And that was a big fear of mine back in college with AJ. I didn’t want to be distracted by a romance, and I definitely didn’t want to be used and tossed aside by some jock like so many of my friends had been. The moment I realized AJ had the potential to break my heart, I made sure to turn my heart to stone so there was no chance of that happening.

  So what does he want from me now? Revenge? Could he be so callous as to give me this job then rip it away? He’s the major funder on this project, he has the power to do such a thing. Hell, my career right now is in his hands.

  Just as I’m cleaning my office at the Hope Center and getting ready to head home after a long fifteen-hour shift, AJ’s massive frame blocks the light from the door. My heart slams against my ribcage like a trapped animal. My body is a traitor and reacts with lust and want, but my mind is a far more loyal companion. It sends up warning flares, flashing red lights, alarms.

  I breathe deeply and try to keep my voice even when I say, “What are you doing here?”

  I can smell his cologne. What is it? I’m guessing something insanely expensive. It smells like heaven. My mind suddenly turns on me too because all I think about is that giant body rubbing against me until I too smell like his delicious cologne.

  His sly smile and cocksure stance is both irritating and sexy as hell. He runs one of those massive hands through his hair. I’ve never seen hands that big. A football in his hands looks as small as a tennis ball would look in mine. It’s why he’s able to hold onto the ball and never drop it. That’s a big target for a quarterback. Two of those big fingers are like having a regular sized man’s cock inside of me. But AJ’s cock … that thing was a work of art, a national monument.

  I close my eyes and will my mind to shut up.

  “Just here to go over the budget and talk shop,” he says. But the way he says it makes me think that’s not all he’s he
re for.

  When I sit down behind my desk, I sigh with relief because my legs were about to give way at the sight of him. He sits across from me, and to my surprise jumps right into the business end of things.

  And again, to my surprise, he’s smart. Very smart. His plans for the Hope Center, how he plans to get money from donors, how he plans to make sure that no one ever gets turned away from our care no matter their ailment, is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. He’s not just smart, he’s innovative. Why haven’t I ever seen this part of him before?

  I guess I already know the answer to that. I closed my mind to him from the very start. I told myself he was a walking, talking cliché before ever bothering to get to know him. I feel like such an ass. I hurt and humiliated him.

  “Claire?” he says, and I realize he’s said something that I haven’t heard. My mind wandered off at some point in the conversation. Long hours will do that to a person, but that’s not the only thing wrong. His presence does something to my brain. It warps and stretches it. Delays it.

  “Yes?”

  “Go to dinner with me.”

  There is no question mark in his voice. I swallow hard, the request throwing me off guard. He has a way of doing that. No wonder he’s so good on the field.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. It would be unprofessional to have a personal relationship with the clinic’s main financial provider.” Even if I wanted to—of course I want to, but I continue to lie to myself by denying it—I don’t know if I could eat a single thing. It feels like my stomach is on a precariously put-together carnival ride whenever he’s around.

  His smile speaks volumes. With one little smirk, he’s telling me, I know you. I know your secrets. You want me. I feel exposed. Vulnerable.

  He says, “I just want to get to know the woman who is in charge of so much of my money.”

  As hesitant as I am, he’s not wrong. I am in charge of a large sum of money. What I choose to do with it could make or break an entire medical institution. I tell myself it’s just professional. It’s like any other business meal I’ve had. But the excitement my body feels is telling me otherwise.

  I pretend to think about it for a few beats, not wanting to show him how easily I’m willing to jump to his commands. “Okay,” I finally agree.

  “Great. Get your coat. The reservation is in thirty minutes.”

  I stammer. “But I’m in my scrubs … that’s not enough time to get home, get a shower …”

  He’s already walking out the door. “You look great. I’ll meet you in the car.”

  I’m left standing in my office with my mouth open. With a sigh, I gather the rest of my things and follow behind him.

  As I walk out the lobby and through the parking lot, I try to steal glances of myself in the cars’ reflections. I surreptitiously smooth down my hair. It’s impossible to see if my eye makeup is smudged or even if there are any remnants left on my face from my hasty lunch between patients.

  He points his key fob and I hear two quick beeps. I’m surprised to see he’s driving an electric car instead of some million dollar Italian sports thing most famous athletes and celebrities drive. His car is definitely nice, but nothing that I expected. Again, he takes me off guard. I haven’t felt this imbalanced since college.

  As I take in the luxurious interior and sneak peeks of him as he maneuvers out of the parking lot, I wonder how awkward this drive will be. But as we drive down the road, he talks about what his plans are for the clinic. Hearing how passionate he is about helping people stirs up something in me I wasn’t expecting. I expect to be turned on by the memory of his huge hands and cock ravaging me, but this soft, sweet side of him? Why is that part of him making me want to climb over the arm rest and ride him like a mechanical bull?

  Speaking of arm rest, I look down at his hand. It’s so close to my leg. If I move my knee over just a centimeter, he’d be touching me. God, I’m horny. I haven’t been laid in so long. I want him. I want him with every fiber of my being. I want to tear his clothes off and stick that beautiful cock in my mouth and suck him dry like a ravenous vampire. My impulse control is that of a serial killer.

  “We’re here,” he says, and I snap out of it.

  I look at the restaurant. Definitely not what I was expecting. I was afraid I wouldn’t be allowed to enter because I’m wearing scrubs, but I’m suddenly feeling over-dressed.

  I get out of the car and we enter the little hole in the wall greasy spoon.

  “This is … quaint,” I say.

  He laughs. I look around at the floral booths and matching wall paper boarders, at the days’ specials spelled wrong on the sandwich board. Everyone is as grubby as I am at the end of the day and I instantly feel at ease.

  “Best garlic fries in town,” AJ says to me.

  A curvy, older waitress with a bright, lovely face smiles at AJ. “Your booth is all clean,” she says to AJ. I follow him to the private corner of the restaurant. On the way he stops when a little girl, roughly ten-years old, wearing his team jersey with his last name and number on it in pink, stands on her seat and points despite her parents’ desperate attempts to stop her.

  AJ laughs and sits down on the bench seat next to her. The way the child’s father looks at AJ could light up a room in the dark. AJ takes a selfie with the family. I can’t help but smile as AJ politely listens to the father spew off AJ’s stats, and the little girl tells him about her daddy’s man crush. Finally, the mother points at me and tells her husband that AJ is busy. The man reluctantly stops talking and allows AJ to leave. This may have just been a regular encounter for AJ who is used to the attention, but for this family it will be the topic of Thanksgiving and Christmas conversations for years to come.

  AJ and I get to the corner booth and I slide into the bench across from him. “That was kind of you,” I say. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He shrugs. “I’d be nothing without people like them.”

  His humility only drives that tingling feeling between my legs and that urge to pounce on him.

  “So,” I say with an eyebrow raised in question, “this is your reservation?”

  He chuckles, playing with the silverware. “More like a standing open invitation on Tuesdays. They have the best burgers in Chicago. Hands down. And I highly recommend the onion rings with their secret sauce.”

  “And the garlic fries,” I add.

  “That one is a no-brainer.”

  The waitress comes over and I take his recommendation about the burger and garlic fries. Most nights when I’m off work, I’m too tired to eat and end up falling asleep on the couch watching something on Netflix. But seeing AJ tonight has woken me up. I doubt I’ll sleep a wink.

  We get our food and I can see why he loves this place so much. The hamburgers are the size of my head and the fries are to die for. I didn’t realize just how hungry I am and gobble it down.

  “Thank you for giving me the job,” I say between bites.

  He shrugs. “It was an easy choice for the board once I recommended you.”

  “You suggested me?”

  I had a feeling he might have been the final reason I was hired because he knows me—though, with our tumultuous past, I figured he would have been the reason if I hadn’t gotten it.

  “I might have brought up your name when I saw the list of candidates applying for the position. But it was your own qualifications that got you in.”

  “But why me?” I ask. I just don’t get it. After what I did to him at that party he should hate me. If not hate me, then think I’m a total bitch.

  AJ stuffs his mouth, avoiding the question. The waitress comes by to refill our drinks.

  Once she’s gone, AJ changes the subject. “How do you like it at the Hope Center.”

  “It’s great,” I answer, but I’m undeterred by his attempt at distraction. “Why me?” I press harder.

  “Maybe it’s because I just want to fuck you again.”

  I nearly choke on the fry I’m chewing. When
I look up at him, he seems unfazed by the shock he just gave me and continues to eat.

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  He wipes his mouth and takes a drink of his iced tea. Then he looks me straight in the eye, his expression completely serious. “Maybe sex with you that night was so good I needed at least one more chance with you. I had the power and money to get you back into my life, so why not? It was all just an elaborate ruse to get you back into my bed.”

  When his lips quirk up into a smile I realize he’s teasing me and I laugh.

  I shake my head and continue to eat, but I can’t stop thinking about his words. I wish the thought of being with him didn’t turn me on so much.

  4

  AJ

  Claire is here across from me, in my favorite corner booth, in my favorite little dive. My admission shocked her. Good. That was exactly the reaction I wanted. That look on her face told me all I needed to know. She still wants me. I couldn’t be sure before, but now there is no doubt in my mind.

  She didn’t take me serious, and that’s good too. I want her to feel at ease around me. She’s finally starting to relax. She tells me about all the people she’s helped so far at the Hope Center. One story in particular she seems fond of, about a sick child who came in crippled by pain and left the center skipping and jumping. She loves her job and she’s dedicated, which is the real reason I made sure she was the one to run the center, but I will admit, I did want her close to me. I wasn’t entirely unselfish in that decision.

  I throw down a hundred dollar bill onto the table and we stand up to leave. I wave at the little girl who I took selfies with. Claire laughs.