Linebacker's Second Chance (Bad Boy Ballers)

by Imani King

  Or like she’s play-acting it is.

  Either way, I don’t give a shit. The most beautiful woman in possibly the entire state at this given time is letting me walk her out to my Range Rover, and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel like the luckiest man alive.

  “You’re immature, Rowan. You’ve been with a hundred women, but you act like a geeky high school boy when you ask me out. For a man with so much money, you shouldn’t be acting quite like that...”

  Joanna had said that shit with a smile on her face when I first took her out. Back then, I didn’t take in the significance of her words. I didn’t see the red flag for what it was.

  I look next to me and see the woman sitting beside me, really see her. She’s sitting there, craning her neck out of the open window to see the stars, completely without pretense, clutching her scarf so it won’t fly out of the window. The air is cold and bitter, swirling around both of us, but I don’t give a damn.

  “The stars are amazing out here,” she shouts and looks over at me, her eyes bright. We roll down a steep hill and she clutches at the seat, but she’s still smiling. “I can’t quite get the color right on the mural, so we’re adding a bunch of different colors and mixing them together.” She looks out the window again and back up at the stars. “But I think we can afford to add more purple. That’s what it really needs. More. Purple.”

  “It’s looking damn good. I’ll be sad when you’re done with it.”

  “Why? Don’t you want to see what it looks like?”

  “Hell yes, woman. But I’m not keen on seeing you go back to that damn city.” The words are out before I know what I’m saying, and Cadence rolls up the window and looks at me. I keep my eyes on the road. The lights of Ruidoso are spreading out before us, and soon we’ll be pulling into the Coming Home Foundation.

  Cadence turns her eyes back to the road and pretends to ignore what I’ve just said. I can feel her thinking beside me, thinking instead of saying what’s on her mind. I clear my throat and drive on, but the pressure inside of the car makes me feel a little like I’m going to explode. Cadence isn’t saying anything, and the ten minutes remaining for our drive to Ruidoso seems like it’s dragging on into eternity.

  “There are a lot of men in the world who think it makes them a pansy to say something like that to a woman. But to me, that means they aren’t real men. They don’t know what they want, but I do.”

  I hear her sniff and move around in the silken dress like she’s thinking about what to say. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

  Dammit woman, how do I get through to you?

  Not for the first time, I think about that sad distance I see sometimes in her eyes. This is a woman who moves between confidence and doubt on a daily basis. But it seems to me like the confident woman is the real Cadence. It could be that I don’t know her all that well, but hell, I got a good feeling about that woman the moment I saw her, and I’ll be damned if I let the night go by without telling her what’s what.

  “You’re beautiful, Cadence--“

  “No.” The word is soft and futile as it slips out of her mouth. That distance is taking her over again, and I’m not sure what to think, except that I’m mad at whatever part of her past is haunting her, making her think that she’s not worth anyone’s time. “Or--thank you, I think.” I feel her eyes on me again. “But hell, Rowan, this isn’t the kind of relationship we entered into. I’m happy to go with you to this thing tonight--“

  “Good, because we’re already over the mountain, city girl, and we’re pulling into the Foundation in less than five minutes now.” She laughs, and the sound of it breaks the tension in the car, even if only for a moment. “And I’m going to roll in there with the most beautiful woman in the state of New Mexico on my arm, and I’m going to tell everyone what a talented artist you are. And if anyone asks me if you’re my date, I’ll tell them that hell yes you are, even if you think you didn’t have a choice about the whole damn matter.”

  “Rowan, you don’t even know me--“

  “I know you enough. I know you’re hardworking, and you’ve got ideas that knock me to the ground about art. I know that you like good food, and you wake up and walk around the front of the house each morning, watching the sun rise. And I know that you laugh at my jokes, and you’re a fucking knockout. And that’s all I need to know, Cadence. The other stuff can come later--“

  “There won’t be a later. I live in New York. My life is there.”

  “I’ve got a plane, and I’ve been known to drive across the country for the hell of it. Even if it’s just for a date, I’d do it to sit across from you and share good conversation.”

  “That’s... excessive.” She laughs just a little bit, even though I know what she’s saying is true. But hell, I don’t mind being an excessive man. Not if it means I get a chance with a woman like her.

  “Well, darling, the thing about being an oil billionaire is that it doesn’t matter one damn bit if I’m excessive. I can do what I want, when I want. And if I want to date a woman in New York--“

  “No one said anything about dating!”

  “I just did, sweetheart. This right here is our first date. And I hope it won’t be the last. Snow’s starting tomorrow morning, so we won’t even be able to get into Ruidoso for a few days. I hear it’s going to drop a couple of feet on us before it’s all over with. Not real common this time of year, but it’s good for sitting around by the fire and getting to know a woman.”

  “Snow! I didn’t even know it snowed in New Mexico. Oh dear God, I should have gotten out to that guest house. Should I—can I—oh God, Rowan. This is all a mess. If only you knew what a mess I am.”

  “That’s damn good, because I don’t like a woman who’s neat and tidy and has everything all figured out.” I pull into a parking space by the Foundation and turn off the car. The cool air already starts to seep in, despite the solid doors of the Range Rover. It’s that chill that seeps into everything, that chill that makes me want to take this warm, real woman in my arms and remind her that there’s a beauty in her so deep that she should never forget it, not for one moment.

  “I’m not that, not that at all.”

  “Good, then. I like a woman with messy hair and paint under her fingernails. Maybe I didn’t know I liked that before, but I do now.”

  She laughs again. “You got me pegged, then. I am that girl, to a tee. And I don’t have a damn thing to get my hair under control--“

  “I like it that way. Like to see you wild and gorgeous and painting in those big grand gestures that you use. It’s fucking sexy.” I look to her with those last words and then get out of the car and walk over to let her out. When she gets out, she looks up at me, her eyes curious and searching. I brush one of the curly locks away from her forehead, but it springs back--a far cry from the straightened out style she had when she first arrived.

  “Rowan, this can’t go anywhere serious. I like you too, but—”

  “You like me too? Well, hot damn, woman, why didn’t you say so?” My twang starts to come out in full force, and I take Cadence by the shoulders, feeling her skin as goosebumps rise and she starts to shiver. “As for the serious thing, let’s hold off on deciding that for a little while, Cadence. This can go any way we want it to. And maybe we can figure that out after our first date. Or the third, you know, whatever.”

  She smiles, big and bright. Acting on impulse, I pull her towards me and hold her tight, tilting her head up and kissing her on the lips.

  There’s a long pause, but I just let my words rest. I’ve said it now, so there’s no reason for her to doubt my intentions, no reason for her to think I’m a man that’s just trying to play her, or a boss toying with her emotions.

  ***

  When I step into the Foundation with Cadence by my side, I grip her waist and pull her close to me. There’s warmth spreading through my body, electricity sparking between us. It occurs to me that it’s nothing like I ever felt with Joanna. Hell, I couldn’t even com
pare what I felt for Joanna to what I feel for Cadence.

  I look to the woman next to me, the light blue contrasting against her dark skin, a spark in her deep golden-brown eyes, a dark red blush rising in her cheeks that she thinks I can’t see. She smiles, lips turning up at the corners, and she turns to me. It looks like she’s about to say something, some kind of protest against the kiss, some kind of question about me dragging her here as my date. I can almost feel those damn words forming on her lips.

  “What will people think, Rowan? We’re so different.”

  Yes, we are. But dammit woman, there’s not a woman in the world that’s sexier than you right now.

  I let the words rest in my mind, don’t risk saying them even though I think maybe I should. Instead, I draw her into me and kiss her on the lips again, biting the lower one just enough to make her squirm. Just enough to let her know that I mean business, and I’m serious that she’s my damn date. She pulls away, her lips parted, deep red from whatever gloss or lipstick she’s wearing. The color stays there through some magic of modern womanhood, and it looks hot as shit. There are a few people looking over at us, probably because I’m the president of this damn thing and they all know I was with a bored, rich-looking blond toothpick four months ago at the last fundraiser.

  But they keep their mouths zipped. That’s the thing about being a billionaire. No one’s planning to come up to me and ask why I’ve got a different woman on my arm. She might be sweating the load about us showing up together. But by the end of the night, she won’t give a damn about anything but me.

  She leans into me and whispers in my ear. “Rowan, you can’t just--“

  “What?” I whisper back, nodding at some of the government officials and shaking hands with donors as I walk through the lobby. Everything is decked out in Christmas lights, and the caterers have really gone all out with the food. It smells like a damn five-star restaurant, and I’m proud to be the man with the best-looking woman on my arm. “What can’t I do? I can’t kiss you again? You don’t want me to? I just want to make sure I’m not crossing a line--“

  “People will think--“

  I turn to her and put her hand in mine. “Cadence,” I start, and then look around to make sure that no one is listening to us. “People will think you’re my date. Are you okay with that?”

  She nods and purses her lip. Even though she’s continuing to nod, there’s a worried expression in her eyes. I know she’s thinking about all the things she’s told me--her bills, her apartment back in New York, her position as the resident artist for the month. And the thing she won’t mention, the thing that she thinks makes her different from me.

  “Yes--like I said, I like you too, Rowan. But--“

  “No buts then. It’s settled.”

  Cadence smiles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, looking down for a moment before turning and smiling at me again. A shock runs straight through my body, and I feel like scooping her up, dragging her to the back room, and unzipping that gorgeous dress, letting it fall to the floor. But there’s a petite woman in a blue suit walking my way, so I just grip Cadence’s hand and walk with her, head held high, toward the governor of New Mexico.

  “Governor Martinez, this is our new artist. And my date to the first annual Coming Home Foundation fundraiser,” I say. Cadence’s jaw drops for a second, but then she’s shaking hands and walking through the crowd like she’s an old pro at the fundraising game. She laughs and throws her head back at the mayor’s jokes, and she chats with the families who live here. Her laughter is infectious, and after a while, I just stand back and watch her as she walks through the crowd and glances back at me every once in a while. Once she’s had a few glasses of wine, she’s completely at ease, talking about her mural and joking about living at the house with a billionaire. I watch her ass sway back and forth as she talks with one of the members of the State Senate about the Coming Home Foundation and her plans for the art she’s creating. Star joins her and takes her arm, leading her like an old girlfriend over to some of her friends from the reservation. Several times, I try to make my way over to Cadence so I can touch her, feel her hot, sweet skin touching mine. I still have half a mind to throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to my office. But instead, I keep getting caught up with donors whose names I don’t remember--and once a man who doesn’t know jack shit about the foundation. Usually I’m happy to talk about business, but now there’s something else on my mind. There’s a woman distracting me more than my chosen profession ever could. As the party starts to wind down, I take a place near the door, sipping on a fine old whiskey that I asked the bartender to have on hand. No one is bothering me now, and I watch Cadence as she dances in the center of the floor with star, twirling and laughing, the blue skirt of her dress swirling in time with her rhythm.

  “She’s a natural at this,” I mutter into my glass. With the hint of whiskey running through my veins, my cock stirs as I watch her. I want to take her home tonight and do all the things I’ve been thinking about, but I won’t push her farther than she needs to be pushed. There’s loneliness and hurt in both of our stories. I don’t know what hers is, but tonight is the first time I haven’t seen it since I met her. I stare into my glass for a moment. When I look up, Cadence is in front of me, taking my glass from my hands and swilling the rest of the whiskey.

  “Come on, wallflower,” she says, pulling me into the middle of the lobby. There’s not really a dance floor, but a few of the drunker politicians are slow dancing to some Christmas song I haven’t heard before. I laugh, and Cadence pulls me to the center of the floor where she was dancing with Star. I let her, as the warmth expands through my body again.

  “I’m no wallflower, woman. But this isn’t exactly a dance floor.”

  “It is now,” she whispers. I take her hand in mine and twirl her around as the song builds. She’s breathless when I pull her back into my arms. People are leaving now, and I pull her close and kiss her again, my own breath coming in a shorter rhythm. Unlike the other kisses this evening, this one is more urgent. In this kiss, I taste her, taking in her scent, the feeling of her body, dress crumpled against my tuxedo. Her eyes are wide, her heart beating fast, and I can almost feel the sparks forming between us, like static electricity on a cool, dry winter’s night before Christmas.

  She pulls away and puts her hands on my forearms. I’m still gripping her by the waist, and for a moment, I feel like we’re trapped in time. I want to stay like this, because here, there are no expectations put upon us. Here, there’s no mention of the distance between our homes, the distance between our lives. As the people file out past us, there’s only her and me. My hand slips lower and rests on the curved shelf of her ass. I want to let it travel lower still, but I think that particular activity might be frowned upon.

  “Rowan, I--“ She stops before she starts protesting at me. I can tell that she’s going to say we can’t do something, or that the kiss was too much, not appropriate. But here we are still, and she’s saying nothing else. So I kiss her again, covering her lips with mine, tracing my fingers over the soft, tender skin of her neck. Gooseflesh forms behind my fingers as they move over her skin. Star and her husband wave to us as they leave, and I barely notice them pass by us. The caterers are the only people left, and I’m vaguely aware that they’re cleaning up my event and leaving too, one by one.

  “Let me take you home, city girl. I want to show you just how good I think you look.” Her eyelashes flutter, and everything about her expression is girlish and alluring. In my younger days, I would have taken her outside and pushed her up against the car. Maybe I’d kneel down and lift her skirt so I could taste her. Or maybe I’d part her legs and take her against the car until she was begging for me to let her come. But we’re adults now, and I’m planning to take her back home and keep her up all damn night.

  As the thoughts of what I’m planning to do to this woman form in my head, she grabs me and pulls me outside. Even as I’m thinking about taking it
slow, she’s got her hands trailing up my suit jacket, and she’s feeling me up like we’re teenagers after prom. That’s when I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist and haul her out to the car while she giggles the whole way.