Game On (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by Olivia Lancaster

  But who was I kidding? I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fondness for the guy. Despite our rough start, he had proven himself to be a truly wonderful person. He was charming my socks off at every turn, with his witty remarks and easy grin. And dinner last night… I could only imagine how expensive that bill had to have been. Just the wine alone was more than I ever spent on food in a day. But none of that bothered him at all. He had paid the bill, left a generous tip, and walked me back out to my car like a perfect gentleman. He’d even asked me if I was sure I was good enough to drive after having one glass of wine a couple hours earlier. I was floored by his kindness toward me, especially since I was totally unaccustomed to men treating me with respect, much less outright interest.

  It was bizarre. And now I couldn’t get it off my mind.

  Almost as though he’d read my thoughts, my phone suddenly buzzed and I snatched it up so quickly I nearly fell off the bed. My heart did a little leap for joy as I saw Kieran’s name pop up on the screen. I excitedly slid the text open to see:

  Sorry, I know it’s late but I found out some sketchy stuff today. Could you please come over so we can talk about it? I don’t wanna be alone right now. Need a second opinion and I trust yours. I’ll send you my address.

  I bit my lip for a moment, pondering the ethics of going over to my subject’s house at ten o’clock at night to discuss private matters. I assured myself that some of the best reporters in the history of journalism had achieved such success by getting perhaps too close to their subjects, so really it was just in both our best interests for me to go over and see him. It was all for work. Especially if he had some new juicy recon for me to add into my article material. This was what reporting was about anyway, wasn’t it? Chipping away at a subject until the truth is revealed, whether it’s prettier or uglier than the outside image?

  Okay, I texted back. Be there soon.

  He sent back his address and I inhaled sharply. Of course he lived in one of the nicest areas in the Vegas area. I jumped out of bed and threw on some jeans and a flowy tank top and was about to rush out the door when I passed a hallway mirror and noticed that I was still wearing my chamomile face mask. I looked like an actual monstrosity. Definitely would not do for me to show up at Kieran’s house-- or mansion-- looking like the creature from the black lagoon. I dashed back to the bathroom to wash it off, dry my face, and then bolted out to the stairwell to get down to the parking lot of my apartment complex. I turned the engine over and stepped on the gas pedal hard, peeling out down the Vegas streets.

  Neon lights flashed somewhat menacingly overhead, casting my line of sight in in electric pinks and greens. Vegas this time of night was coming alive, the strip glittering with signs beckoning to the restless locals and excitable tourists to come in and find their own shangri-la. I was used to it by now-- the constant noise and color, like every tacky roadside attraction monstrously welded into one bright, overenthusiastic amalgam of everything too shiny and too forward. Vegas was a marvel of mankind’s hubris: a metropolitan oasis in the middle of an unforgiving desert.

  Traffic was wild tonight, even though it was only Thursday, but luckily I was a local. I knew all the back roads and shortcuts to get across town in record time while everyone else was still stalled out in the bumper-to-bumper grind. I navigated my rickety little car up and down the side streets, the surrounding neighborhood increasing in opulence as I approached the part of town Kieran inhabited. He lived in an incredibly exclusive part of town, one that I’d never so much as set foot in before, but I knew the way all the same.

  Sometimes when I was bored or overly stressed, I would a drive to clear my mind. A couple times, these aimless midnight drives led me across town to Kieran’s area. I would gawk at the huge, beautiful houses with their perfectly trimmed hedges and vibrant green lawns, shaking my head at the Mercedes Benzes and Rolls Royces parked in the driveways. It was a lifestyle I had never even touched but through a wistful windowpane, a life that didn’t belong to me and probably never would. It wasn’t like I really craved the money these people had. It was the stability of not having to worry about paying rent or buying food or gas that got me. That, and the possibility of getting to travel the world without much worry. I’d spent my entire life here in Nevada, and while I had done pretty well digging out a life for myself here, I really wanted to expand my horizons and see new places.

  I pulled up to the enormous honey-brown stucco, two-story house and parked in the driveway, gazing up in utter amazement at the building he lived in. There was a cast-iron balcony jutting out of the front and the whole exterior gave off an upscale Spanish villa vibe. I walked up to the elaborately carved front door, feeling very underdressed, even for a late night house call.

  Before I could even knock, the door swung open to reveal Kieran standing there in jeans and a white T-shirt that accentuated every firm ripple of the muscles underneath. I swallowed hard. He looked delicious… and a little sad. His blue eyes had a sorrowful, concerned light to them and I instantly asked what was wrong.

  “Just… come in and we’ll talk about it. I need your advice,” he said softly, guiding me into the house. On the inside, the decor was significantly less opulent. The quality of what was here was still very high, of course, but the house seemed painfully empty. With its high ceilings and wide open spaces, the few pieces of furniture and personal accoutrements seemed pitifully understated. I supposed it made sense, really. Kieran was a single guy living in a veritable castle meant for several family members, not just one.

  “This is beautiful,” I breathed, turning in a slow circle and staring up at the ceilings and intricate wall mouldings. “I can’t believe you live here. Well, actually I can.”

  He laughed and gestured for me to follow him into a living room area. He flopped down on a plushy brown sofa and beckoned for me to sit beside him. I obliged willingly, all the while reminding myself that this was a professional meeting, despite the late hour and casual vibe.

  “Sorry it’s so late, I just couldn’t wait until morning to see you,” he said, shaking his head sadly. He lifted up a little glass tumbler of a brown liquid that smelled like bourbon. “Want a drink?”

  I shook my head, even though my body urged me to say yes. It had been a whirlwind of a week and I could have used some liquid encouragement to keep going, but I had to refuse. For now, at least.

  “So here’s what I found out today…”

  He launched into an explanation of the contract details, how Paul and Janet were, in fact, scheming to cut him out of a huge chunk of profit. They essentially wanted to use him like a prized dog or pony, trotting him out into the spotlight for product endorsements he really didn’t care about at all just for the prize money. He asked me to help him look over future contracts and help him and his lawyer fight the matter at hand. I wasn’t sure how exactly a lowly cub reporter like me could help, but I agreed all the same. I was along for the ride now, for better or for worse. I just hoped his troubles wouldn’t cause him to blow off our interviews.

  “It’s like they just see me as a cash cow. I mean, I should have expected that going into this sport at the national level. But still, I let myself trust them all this time. I can’t believe what a naive idiot I was for thinking they had my best interests in mind. They’re only out to get theirs and they couldn’t care less about screwing me over on the way,” he said, staring down into his nearly-empty glass. Suddenly he glanced up. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

  I bit my lip, considering what might change between us if I broke my number one rule-- again. But then again, I wasn’t really here to interview him anyway, was I? We were just two people discussing a rough patch in his career. No big deal.

  “You know what? Yeah. I think I do,” I replied, sitting up straighter. He gave me the first smile I’d seen on his face all night and I felt a warm tingle in my heart at the sight of it. What was going on here? How could I be so moved by even his slightest word or gesture?

  Kieran hop
ped up and walked over to an old-fashioned, carved cherry-wood bar and poured me a generous glass of the same thing he was drinking. “I guess it’s too late to ask if you even like whiskey,” he commented with a sheepish smile as he handed me the glass.

  “It’ll do,” I assured him, taking a teeny tip. I never drank liquor straight, but when in Rome, I would do as the hot, charming footballer did.

  He sat down next to me, both feet planted on the floor as he swirled the liquid in his glass absentmindedly, staring at the glossy wooden floor. “What’s up?” I asked, frowning. He suddenly looked so downtrodden and confused.

  “I’m thinking of how to word what I need to say next,” he said softly.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling the butterflies flitting around in my stomach. His tone and demeanor had shifted so drastically and now I had no idea where he was going from here.

  Finally he looked over at me askance, his blue eyes luminous in the low lamplight. He looked so handsome I couldn’t even breathe for a moment while I waited for him to continue.

  “You probably already know. I’m not very good at hiding my feelings around you, and I think we both know why. I am starting to really, really like you, Dani.”

  I sat in stunned silence, a million conflicting thoughts ricocheting around in my mind.

  Kieran went on, ruffling his fingers back through his blond waves. “I don’t know if I’m just not used to how different you are or what, but I can’t be suave like I usually am. You’re not like every other woman who just wants my money or my fame. Dani, you’re different, and you make me different from who everyone thinks I am, too.”

  I took a long swig of my drink, scrunching up my face at the bitter taste. Kieran laughed gently. “Sorry to spring that on you like that. I just didn’t know how else to say it.”

  “Oh, you’re fine. It’s just that… Kieran, I--”

  He held up his hand and shook his head. “No, you don’t have to say anything at all. I don’t expect you to. I just needed you to know how I feel because it’s getting too hard to hide it from you,” he explained good-naturedly. “Anyway, last night I never got to answer some of your questions.Wanna pick up where we left off?”

  Too shocked to protest, I simply returned to what I did know how to do. I got out my notebook and pen, tucked my hair behind my ear, and prepared to keep interviewing Kieran as though he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on me. The rest of the night went by easily and quickly, the two of us falling right back into our usual banter. It was nearly two in the morning when he finally walked me back out to my car. To his credit, he only lingered a little, never overstepping my boundaries with physical contact. He simply waved and watched me pull away into the night, my mind running in a million directions.

  CHAPTER 8 – KIERAN

  I wasn’t expecting good news the next day when my phone lit up with Jayda Washington’s number. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but then again, maybe I had just known from the start that anything pitched to Paul and Janet would come back to haunt me one way or another. So I braced myself as I answered the call.

  “Hi, Ms. Washington.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Michaels. Your tone tells me you have a feeling about why I’m calling.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “Well, I’ll be frank with you,” she started, and I could hear the clacking of a computer in the background. “Our counter-offer was rejected. They were rather firm. I won’t share some of the strong language they used in their response, but I sincerely hope you weren’t holding out for some potential for friendly negotiation. I don’t think that was ever in the ballpark for them.”

  I smiled taking a deep breath. It was a good morning to get into a fight with someone, I figured. “None of that’s a surprise, hate to say. Thanks, Ms. Washington. We’ll be in touch, but I’m going to go have a word with them myself.”

  “I can’t recommend that in good conscience, Mr. Michaels,” came her hurried response, sounding somewhat concerned, “that might escalate the situation beyond what you’re capable of.”

  “I know,” I said simply before hanging up the phone and heading for my car.

  I appreciated her dedication to me. I could tell by the way she spoke and wrote in her emails that she seemed to genuinely care for my case and everything at stake in it. Maybe she just had a personal distaste for people like Paul and Janet, and that was something I could appreciate more and more as time passed.

  I pulled up to Janet’s office again, and this time, I didn’t see the secretary’s car in the lot. Instead, I saw Paul’s sports car at a crooked angle next to Janet’s. That wasn’t a good sign.

  I sat in my car for a few moments, thinking about what I was going to say. I wasn’t a fast-talking kind of person like they were. I could take down just about anyone on the football field, and nobody would dare stand toe-to-toe with me in a fight, but this wasn’t the kind of battle I could win with the body I’d spent so long perfecting. I was a football player, and this felt like the kind of thing a lawyer ought to handle. And by all rights, I should have called up Washington again and asked her to accompany me here today.

  But something drove me to go in alone. I had to have a personal word with these people who’d abused so much of my trust and abilities.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, I clambered out of my car and headed inside. I could hear shouting the moment I entered, and as soon as the door clicked, it stopped suddenly. The next moment, Janet opened the door of the back office and stuck her head out. At the sight of me, her eyes narrowed.

  “He’s here,” I heard her say back to the office in a terse voice, and shortly after, Paul pushed past her to strut into the main office, looking me square in the eye.

  “You’ve got a lot of fucking explaining to do, Kieran,” he started with, and from that moment, I knew everything that went down today was going to get ugly.

  “Good morning to you too, Paul,” I said as calmly as I could, but I could already feel my blood heating up.

  “So you’ve decided we’re not good enough for you, is that it?” snapped Janet from behind, striding up to stand next to Paul, and together, I realized how disheveled the two of them looked. “I didn’t realize ‘get a few things checked out’ meant you were going to have some law office waving papers in our faces like we’re some kinds of criminals!”

  You really are, I thought, but I bit it back and tried to keep a level voice. “I just wanted to review a few things with a legal perspective, boss,” I said.

  “Don’t boss me,” she snapped, and I could see a real fire in her eyes. “Especially not with the asinine kind of offer you slung in our face yesterday. Do you know what kind of hell you put us through?”

  “I don’t know how you convinced a lawyer to slap together a ridiculous contract offer like the one you had that hack send us,” Paul said, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow, “but you’re smoking something funny if you think that’s the kind of deal any team this side of the country wouldn’t laugh at.”

  “What kind of charity do you think we’re running?” Janet added, pacing around the room behind Paul. “Do you think running a team is something we can do cheaply? Do you think just because you’ve got a few good runs under your belt that you can try to run us out of house and home making those kinds of demands?”

  Paul nodded, his face red as he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, glaring daggers into me. I wondered if one or both of them had been hitting the blow today to be able to talk to me like this. I was feeling my blood rise to a low boil just under the skin.

  “What you are, Kieran, is ungrateful,” he barked. “Do not think for one goddamn second that everything you have today, every win, every training session, and every day off at that fucking gym you waste so much fucking time at—don’t think for one second that all of it doesn’t come directly from the tireless work of me and Janet. We stuck our necks out for you all these years, putting up with your sorry ass and all its ego. And without us, Kieran, you�
��d be nothing but that—a show-off.”

  I folded my hands in front of me, keeping a stony gaze on him as he squared up with me as if lecturing me. “So what you’re going to do is apologize. You’re going to apologize to me, to Janet, and to that jackass lawyer for wasting her time on what’s nothing more than a power play on your part,” Paul went on, a little bubble of spittle at the corner of his mouth, “and then you’re going to put your signature on that paper and be happy with the generous contract we wrote for you.

  I let him finish before allowing myself a small smile and speaking.

  “I could do that,” I said slowly, and I could practically hear Paul and Janet grinding their teeth. “But if that contract of yours really is so generous, I hope you won’t mind if I bring it up the next time the press interviews me.”

  It took a few moments for that to sink into Paul and Janet’s minds. And when it did, their eyes slowly widened, and I saw a little purple vein pulsing in Paul’s forehead. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

  “Where,” Janet breathed, stepping forward, and for a moment I genuinely thought she was about to grab my arm and try to shake me in barely-restrained fury. “Where in the fuck do you get off trying to blackmail us, you little shit?”