Filthy Player (A Rough Riders Novel Book 2)

by Stacey Lynn

  “Fuck off,” I growled. God, I was strung tight. There was stress pressing down on me from all sides this season, more so than last, and the press conference earlier had cemented everyone’s expectations for us. “Besides, there’s no fun in the victory if there’s no work in the fight.”

  Matthews fist-pumped me and nodded. “That’s right, man.”

  The table erupted in a round of affirmations, but I didn’t need them.

  I didn’t become the best quarterback in the NFL by luck. It was part skill, a whole hell of a lot of effort.

  It helped that my body was built for speed and strength, something I’d worked on honing since I was twelve and had my first taste of a youth football championship.

  I worked my ass off every day for what I wanted, never giving up, never giving in. If our pretty little waitress thought one rebuff would work on me, then she didn’t know who she was talking to.

  “Two pitchers of Freaky Nature.” She stood on the opposite side of the table, as far away from me as she could get, and set down the pitchers. “Do you gentlemen know what you’d like to eat?”

  I was beginning to. On further inspection, she wasn’t only beautiful, she also seemed tired and worn down. Light purple circles were under her eyes, but it was the shining brown hair that swooped across her forehead in chunky bangs I was looking at. Slim fingers brushed them aside and I got the first peek of her eyes.

  Beautiful almond-shaped, hazel eyes, chocolate hair, and shimmering pink lips.

  Oh, yeah. I knew exactly what I wanted to eat.

  “I’m ready,” I crooned, my intent clear in the thickness of my voice.

  Her eyes fluttered up and for a moment, I sat there, stunned at the depth I noticed in her eyes.

  She wasn’t worn out, she wasn’t tired from a hard night’s work. This woman was exhausted. She wore it as clear as my mom used to when I was a kid and she worked three jobs in order to keep a roof over our head and pay for my football fees.

  I suddenly felt like a dick for coming on so strong. I wasn’t the player or the arrogant prick some people thought me to be. I worked damn hard. I played harder. I was also raised by two women who’d kick my ass to hell and back if I treated a woman like trash.

  “Double cheeseburger, hold the fries and a side salad with ranch, please,” I said, tossing my menu to the center of the table.

  I’d been teasing the woman, Paige, I now knew from the stitched-on name just above her left breast on her shirt. I hadn’t seen it before. “And before any of these knuckleheads start arguing about splitting up the check later and making you work six times harder than you need to, it’s all on me tonight.”

  “What the hell?” Kolby guffawed. “You’re too cheap to pay for our crap.”

  “Not cheap. Frugal.”

  We’d had this argument before. Kolby thought I was a tight wad with my money because I didn’t give a shit what I wore, barely ever bought anything new unless it was absolutely necessary. Hell, my entire team gave me crap about my old Ford pickup I’d had since high school.

  Why the hell would I buy something new when the one I had still ran just fine?

  Well, except for the strange sputtering it’d been making lately, but that was beside the point.

  I came from shit, worked myself out of it, and no way in hell was I going back there.

  One wrong hit and my career and endorsements could end before Christmas. I’d set myself up to live easy for the rest of my life. I never saw the point in throwing away millions on mansions and sports cars when if my career went, so did all that crap.

  Kolby got it, despite the fact he did live in a mansion, but he had a daughter to take care of and a mom who lived with them. He needed a home.

  I liked my brownstone just fine.

  “Making it easier on Paige,” I said. “It’s busy and I was trying to help.”

  I glanced at her, saw her mouth drop open and her eyes flutter rapidly before she shook her head.

  Her cheeks bloomed when she did. A pretty faint pink color I wanted to explore at other times, but now wasn’t it.

  I knew where she worked. I’d approach when she wasn’t busting her ass.

  “Order, assholes,” I said, knocking my knuckles on the table. “We’ve got a meeting to get back to.”

  While the rest of the table ordered, I filled their glasses with beer. When they were done, I collected all the menus and handed them to Paige across the table, my arm long enough to reach so she didn’t have to bend much.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes on me, a little bit glassy.

  “Not a problem. Had a mom who waited tables. It’s hard shit.” I grinned intentionally, hoping like hell I looked sincere. I was.

  She took the menus and gave another swipe of the table with her eyes. “Need anything else before I put your order in?”

  Quinten opened his mouth.

  “We’re good,” I said before he could speak. The guy was one of our best running backs. He was also picky as hell. I imagined him requesting six additional things to his order plus making it complicated. He could deal with whatever he got.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back with your food as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Thanks, Paige.”

  She blushed further and looked at her chest where her name was scrawled. She nodded once and walked away.

  When she was gone, Kolby nudged me in the elbow like I’d done to him.

  “The hell?”

  “What?” I drank my beer. Smooth and sweet. Damn, I loved the local beers in Raleigh.

  “You were nice to her.”

  “I want in her pants, dickface, I wasn’t going to be rude.”

  A gasp hit me from behind the table and I cringed. Ah hell.

  I turned and behind me was Paige. There was fury in her tired hazel eyes and a filled pitcher of ice water in her hand.

  Then her hand lifted, and before I could move out of the way, it was dumped all over my head.

  “Shit!” I ducked my head as ice fell down my shirt and all over my body.

  “Never gonna happen, asshole.” She twirled and stomped away.

  “Aww fuck!” I was damn cold, dripping in ice and cold water that ran down my face and beneath my shirt, landing in a pool on my lap.

  Around us, the entire restaurant had gone dead silent.

  All except for my teammates, who were laughing so hard some had tears running down their cheeks.

  “Go suck a bag of dicks,” I said to all of them, shaking my hands in the faces of the men close enough to get wet.

  Then I leaned over the table, shook my hair like a dog, splattering water all over the place and pushed back from the table.

  I had my suit I had to wear earlier in my car. I hated wearing it, but at least it was dry.

  “Mr. Hale, Mr. Hale, I’m so sorry. Please, let me help you.” An overweight man rushed toward me, white towels in his hand that couldn’t hide the jumping of his large gut. “Please excuse my server,” he said, shooting a glare in the direction where Paige had disappeared. “It appears we need more training.”

  I grabbed a towel out of his hand and wiped my face. “No big deal,” I said. “Shit happens. Don’t worry about it.”

  After what she heard me say, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it.

  Hell, I even liked that she doused me. It showed she had guts and the ability to stand up for herself. My kind of woman.

  “I’ll take care of this immediately,” he said, and by the look in his eyes, I knew how he was going to handle it.

  “Honestly, man. It’s not a problem. No harm, no foul. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had an ice bath before.” I laughed it off, using the towel to dry my arms and then I took the rest of the towels from his hand and tossed them on the table.

  “Can you help and get this table cleaned up?” I asked the guys. One would do it. We weren’t all entitled assholes like people wanted to believe. Rich yes, but not entitled. There wasn’t a player I’d met yet who wasn’t
grateful for the opportunity to be playing ball for a living.

  “You got it, Hale,” Quinten said.

  I turned back to the guy I assumed was the manager and lifted my hands. “See? No problem. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get something dry on.”

  “I’ll speak to your server about this while you’re gone.”

  He hurried away before I could stop him.

  My mom had lost more jobs than I could remember for reasons more minor than this.

  Waitressing jobs were a dime and dozen, easy to find, easy to lose.

  Damn.

  I hurried out to my truck, shoved off my now soaking wet jeans and ripped off my shirt. Once re-dressed in the suit pants and dress shirt, I headed back inside.

  I needed to find Paige and her manager before I owed her a hell of a lot more than an apology.

  CHAPTER THREE

  PAIGE

  My hands were shoved into my hair, my eyes closed and I growled at the ceiling in a way that sounded feral and shocking to my own ears.

  Damn him. Stupid men! For a split second when he’d mentioned his mom, I actually thought Beaux Hale might be a decent human being, despite his earlier sexual innuendo and flirting.

  I’d thought he was so nice I’d grabbed the water pitcher from Hannah before I placed the football team’s order.

  It was rare in the service industry that people not only recognized how hard you worked but took steps to make that job a little bit easier. Splitting bills wasn’t rocket science. It certainly wasn’t brain surgery. It was the thought behind his actions that made my stomach flutter and my spine warm in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

  Yeah, I was independent and used to taking care of my dad and myself. But sometimes, occasionally, in the dark of night, what I really wanted was someone to come along, take my hand and say, “Have a seat, honey. You’ve had a long day. I’ve got this.”

  This didn’t have to be a big thing, it could have been unloading the dishwasher, taking out the trash, or grabbing the mail or the newspaper at the end of the driveway I always neglected.

  This could be anything, and with Beaux’s shining blue eyes on me, Hannah’s reminder of my lack of a sex life, for a moment…one small, tiny, barely-there moment, I’d really liked the idea Beaux would be somebody like that for me, even if the small thing he was offering was saving me only a few minutes at my job.

  But then he had to open his mouth. He was just as arrogant, just as cocky and self-serving as most of the men I’d come across in the last few years. More takers than givers, more likely to get off than ensure I did first, more likely to blow their load and begin wondering when I would leave before offering me a glass of water.

  He was like the rest. Actually, he was worse. He knew it and clearly knew how to play the game. Flash a smile and a wink, offer up something nice, and just like all other strings, he tightened the noose and let it swing.

  Ugh.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah asked, rushing into the break room where I’d escaped to regain control of my emotions. “Are you insane? You just doused Beaux Hale of all people! What happened?”

  “He’s an asshole, that’s what happened.”

  “No way.” Her hands landed on her hips, and change jingled in her waist apron. “Not Beaux. Everything I’ve read about the guy says he super sweet. And you’ve read about his relationship with his sister.”

  “Having a sister doesn’t mean he’s not a jerk, Hannah.” Stars in her eyes were shining bright like diamonds. Naive little girl. I swore she still believed in once upon a times and happily ever afters.

  I’d thought I had found mine with Spencer, but I was wrong. We dated for two years and had lived together for one of them. Our relationship crumbled when my dad got sick and I moved home. After only two weeks of trying long-distance, he called and said it was over because I no longer had the time to invest into our relationship.

  It was the first time a guy had left me because I couldn’t give him my full attention due to helping my dad, but he wasn’t the last. I’d tried dating since moving home, but in the end, those men also walked away when I couldn’t give them the time they wanted.

  Sorry, assholes and losers, my dad owned top spot. At least, he would until someone came along and realized that me taking care of him wasn’t a burden, but an honor. How could I not when he’d given me everything he had and made me the woman I was today, busting his ass left and right at his garage so I could have the best of everything?

  I turned to Hannah, hating to blow the light out of her excitement and told her what he said. When I was done, her pale green eyes were in danger of popping right out of their sockets.

  “No way! He didn’t!”

  I nodded. “He most certainly did.”

  Saying it out loud stung worse than the reality that he was like everyone else. How ridiculous of me to think otherwise.

  Good grief, I’d almost lost myself in his manners and charm. Was I really that hard up for a decent guy? I mean, I’d even been considering letting him in my pants if the opportunity presented itself until he told his whole table that was all he wanted from me.

  Sorry, not sorry… I was raised with a small amount of decency. That meant not falling into a guy’s pants just because he crooked two thick, callused fingers.

  I had to stop thinking about it. Problem was, I knew Paulie wasn’t going to let me.

  “So, how bad is Paulie when he’s really pissed?” I asked Hannah.

  Her lips twisted and she made a face. “Well, I’m still here, so.” She shrugged in that innocent, playful way of hers I loved so much. I pulled her to me and gave her a quick hug.

  “Thanks for listening to me.”

  “Anytime, Paige.”

  I grinned. She grinned back.

  “I should probably go find Paulie, huh?”

  “Um. Well, when I saw him he was rushing to help Beaux.”

  “Great.”

  I walked around her and she called my name.

  “What?”

  “Well, I mean… would it really be bad to have him get in your pants anyway?” She smiled and her gaze did that hazy, glossing thing. “He was really sexy in a soaking wet shirt. Imagine how good he’d look out of it.”

  I laughed despite myself. “You’re a nut, Hannah.”

  I opened the door and walked through as she yelled, “Yeah, but I’m a nut who gets laid!”

  That girl. I was still shaking my head and laughing as I went in search of Paulie.

  He was easy to find once I stepped out of the break room just off the hallway that led to the restrooms.

  “What are you thinking girl?” he all but shouted, gaining the attention of several customers walking by us or seated at the nearby tables. “Beaux Hale? Of the Rough Riders? Did you have a brain fart tonight and forget who you were serving when you threw a pitcher of water all over him?”

  “I’m really sorry, Paulie, I really am.” I gave him the most apologetic expression I could muster. “I slipped.”

  “Slipped?” he blustered and repeated himself. “Slipped? You slipped? On what, your brain? You can’t go dumping water on the Rough Rider’s quarterback and not expect that to hit the news! No one will come anymore if the team stops coming.”

  I choked back a laugh and pressed my lips together. Pissed off Paulie was sort of entertaining. Unfortunately, I preferred him when he wasn’t shouting at me, especially when I deserved it.

  “She did,” a deep voice said and all my humor instantly evaporated. “She did slip. Honestly sir, it was my fault.”

  Um. What?

  Paulie turned and his jaw dropped as both of us stood, staring at Beaux. His hands were slid into suit pants and he was now wearing a dry and slightly wrinkled white dress shirt. Huh.

  His hair was still a bit wet, and for a brief second, I almost felt bad for what I did to him. Then I remembered what he said and I glared at him.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Hale?”<
br />
  “Beaux, please.” He lifted a hand and turned his stupid charming smile on Paulie. “She was right behind our table and I had jumped back, hitting her. Honestly, like I said earlier, it wasn’t a problem, and like I just said, totally my fault. I didn’t mean to bump into her, it just happened.”

  I scowled at him. He swooped the wind and anger out of Paulie’s sails with one simple little lie. Now what did he want from me?

  “That true?” Paulie asked, and his gaze flickered between us. He was as doubtful as he should be, but not exactly like he could argue.

  I shrugged. “I told you I slipped.”

  He huffed, his belly jiggling like a shopping mall Santa Claus. “Okay, then,” he said and pointed a finger at me. “Last chance.”

  “I’ll do better, Paulie. I promise.”

  “Damn straight you will, young lady.” He walked away back to the restaurant’s bar where he kept his eyes on the staff.

  I tried to breathe, but everything was still stuck in my chest. When Paulie left, Beaux had moved until he was close enough to remind me how much I liked his cologne.

  Stupid men.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, refusing to look at him. “I appreciate it.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was a deep rumble, and I fought the urge to shiver. He was so tall, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist. He looked damn good in that shirt, too. The sincerity in his apology made me feel ridiculously silly things. Things like hope and lust.

  Now I was the stupid one.

  “For what?” I finally asked, trying to glare at him. “Saying it or me hearing it?”

  “Both.”

  At least he was honest. “Fair enough. Forgiven. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

  I stepped to the side and he swung an arm out, blocking my path. I could have moved around him, but I was curious. What else could he possibly say to me?

  “You might think I’m a dick, but I’m not. What I said wasn’t right, even if you didn’t hear it. I’m not an asshole, Paige, even if I did act like it. I just got carried away with the guys, but I am sorry.”