Filthy Player (A Rough Riders Novel Book 2)

by Stacey Lynn

  He was warm, but not hot. He’d slept off and on the entire day, but hadn’t once complained about the pain in his leg. It would come though, and then my failing dad would act like it was nothing.

  All to protect me.

  I sighed as I kissed his cheek and whispered my good night to him. He didn’t twitch a single muscle and his breathing never faltered. The pain pills knocked him out cold.

  It was then I knew Beaux was absolutely right.

  It killed my dad I’d given up so much for him. He hated that he’d become my main focus. Reality was, there would come a day and he wouldn’t be here.

  Down to the depths of my soul, I knew the only thing that would make him disappointed in me was if I lived a life that was only half alive, not taking hold of every opportunity thrown my way.

  It would kill him quicker if I became something less than what he always wanted for me. Considering there was a guy nearby who could possibly help make my life happier, a little bit easier, Dad would want me to reach for it, hold it and grab onto it with both hands and never let go.

  “I’ll do better, Dad. I promise.” I brushed a finger down his arm, reassured he was sleeping soundly and as pain-free as possible. I hurried back to the front door, reaching it the same time Beaux returned with a small black bag in his hand.

  ***

  I woke up the next morning to the obnoxious beeping of my phone’s alarm and reached over, tapping the snooze button.

  Stretching, I blinked the sleep from my eyes and catalogued a list as long as my arm of everything I needed to accomplish that day. Call me obsessive, but I enjoyed beginning my day making a to-do list. It woke me up, got me moving even if most days I wanted to curl back into the covers.

  It wasn’t until I was on point five of my list—call a nursing agency for my dad for daytime help—an errant thought ran through my mind.

  Last night, Beaux had shown up at my house and hadn’t left.

  “What the heck?” I whispered and rolled to my side. On the opposite side of the bed, the sheets were a mess, thrown back and clearly showing someone had already climbed out of them.

  When we’d come upstairs last night, we’d taken turns using the hall bathroom. When it was Beaux’s turn, I’d thrown on an old college T-shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, sleeping in way more than I usually did but I wasn’t giving Beaux any ideas, not with my dad directly below us, despite what Beaux had promised.

  We’d climbed into bed, he’d curled me into his side and we’d talked about his game and all the traveling he did. Eventually both of us had drifted off to sleep.

  It’d been sweet. Absolutely perfect. The best night I’d spent with a guy in a bed in a long time and that was pretty miraculous considering we hadn’t even made out.

  But he hadn’t stayed.

  My heart dropped in my stomach and I sat up, clenching the covers to my chest. I scanned the room looking for any sign of his presence, but the black bag Beaux had brought in and set inside the door to my bedroom was also gone. So was his suit.

  Disappointment ate at me and I brushed back my hair, letting it fall to my neck, thinking. He had practice that day, I knew that, but he hadn’t mentioned having to leave early, and my alarm was set for six o’clock exactly. The sun was barely rising and he’d disappeared in the night.

  “Awesome,” I muttered, and threw off the covers.

  I needed a shower, get dressed, and a carafe full of coffee before heading into the garage. Hustling through my bedroom, I grabbed all the clothes I’d need and then took a quick shower. The whole time I was getting ready, which didn’t take long since I wore minimal makeup and didn’t bother blow drying my hair when I went to the garage, I hoped for the best.

  Perhaps I’d missed a text. Or a note.

  He’d call me later, I was certain of it. No guy would put in the effort Beaux had done for me, made the promises he’d made last night, and rip them away.

  “He’s not Spencer,” I assured myself.

  So far, Beaux had proven he was the exact opposite. And if I wasn’t going to end things with him, if I was going to let him in, then I also had to start trusting him.

  He’d shown me he was worth it.

  I clipped my bangs back at my temple like I usually did and gave myself another perusal in the mirror.

  When I was done, I tossed everything onto my bedroom floor. I wasn’t messy, not a neat freak. I cleaned my room between shifts at the garage and the restaurant, the only time I had a few free hours and on my days off from the restaurant, and I cleaned the whole house. Not that it got that dirty with just dad and I, but I’d done it ever since I was old enough to use cleaning supplies.

  My dad never noticed dust and clutter and toothpaste gobs on the counter. When I became a teenager and heard my friends talk about their brothers, I became certain those kinds of oversights were ingrained in male DNA.

  But my mood didn’t change through my morning routine. I sucked in a breath, trying to put on a happy face as I hurried down the stairs to take care of my dad and make sure he had everything he needed before I left for work.

  Only I didn’t get as far as the kitchen because at the bottom of the stairs, I froze.

  Beaux was sitting on the couch, facing my dad, coffee cup in both men’s hands and they were talking quietly, nodding and smiling. For the first time since my dad’s injury, he didn’t have a glassy look in his eyes from either the pain or the pills to take it away.

  The black bag was next to the couch, suit draped over the armrest, and he was casually sitting there in gray athletic shorts and a black shirt that stretched so tight over his muscles and chest, the seams were in danger of popping.

  Beaux had stayed, and from the looks of it, he’d taken care of my dad. He was dressed in different clothes, his face looked washed up, hair combed, and he was sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

  I really needed to stop underestimating Beaux Hale.

  A warmth flickered through me and I shivered. This guy. Everything he was showing me was too good to be true but absolutely perfect.

  “Good morning,” I said, my gaze flipping back and forth to them when neither noticed me.

  “Hey,” Beaux said, standing from the couch and headed my way. “How’d you sleep?”

  I glanced at my dad who was now intently staring into his coffee. “Um. Good.”

  Beaux walked up to me, smiling. “I didn’t want to wake you. I don’t sleep much after game nights.”

  My cheeks burned. Good grief, was this what teenage girls felt like when they brought boyfriends home? It’d been so long I couldn’t remember. Everything he said made me more embarrassed. “Uh. Thanks.”

  He chuckled again as if he understood. In addition to being a superstar quarterback, the man had to be telepathic.

  He took my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen. “I made coffee this morning too, but your dad tells me it sucks.”

  “Too freaking weak. You young’uns. You’re all weak. Weak coffee, weak running, weak tackling—”

  “Easy tiger,” Beaux said. “I’ve already heard your opinions on last night’s game. Keep critiquing and I might begin to take it personally.”

  “See?” my dad called, but his voice was thick with humor. “You’re all weak today.”

  I was laughing by the time I reached the kitchen. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

  “I did if I wanted to kiss you.”

  His lips hit mine and my ass hit the counter behind me before I could blink. Heaven. His body surrounded mine and he took over, took what he wanted, and I was so damn grateful he’d helped my dad I could have cried tears of joy.

  I threw all my thanks into that kiss and when Beaux pulled back, his gaze flickering between my eyes, I could barely breathe.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, sliding his fingers through my still wet hair. “I really like the way you look when you’re sleeping.”

  I looked at his shoulder, more embarrassed. “Beaux—”

  “Coffe
e first. We got a lot to talk about today and I’ve already got most of it done, so you need to catch up.”

  That sounded ominous. “What did you do?”

  “Coffee. Your dad says you can’t count to two in the morning before your first cup you’re so out of it.”

  “Lovely,” I muttered, but I couldn’t argue. More than one roommate and boyfriend had called me a zombie over the years.

  And since his words left me nervous, fortification in caffeinated form was definitely necessary.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BEAUX

  Leaving Paige sleeping was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I woke up hard, my dick knowing exactly what it wanted, and it’d been a power struggle not to wake her up with my mouth on her nipple and my fingers teasing her in other places. Damn, she was pretty when she was sleeping though. All that brown hair all over her pillow, her cheeks pressed to her hands beneath her. She’d snuggled up to me during the night and I woke up with her legs plastered to mine, sweating like a demon, but all of it felt damn good.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken with a woman lying all over me. Paige was different than the rest. It didn’t matter why and it wasn’t something specific I could put my finger on. I just knew I really liked everything about her, even when she was pissing me off with her running.

  It might have made me a glutton for punishment, but I still understood where she was coming from. That didn’t mean I was going to let her keep doing it.

  The fact my dick got hard whenever she was nearby told me everything I needed to know. He hadn’t let me down yet and I was certain the big guy had a mind of his own.

  So I’d taken my bag and gotten dressed and cleaned up in the hall bath, being as quiet as possible. When I’d hit the main floor, I’d gone to the kitchen and started some coffee and by the time I was done, Sam was waking up, groaning every time he shifted.

  It’d taken a while to talk him into letting me help get him dressed and cleaned up, but considering I could carry him up the stairs and he couldn’t walk on crutches yet, there wasn’t much point in arguing. His pride had taken a hit, I knew that.

  I also knew that by the time I’d convinced him to let me hire him a home health nurse, he’d take the hit to his pride if it meant making things easier on Paige.

  Now, with her standing in front of me, eyes brightening with every sip of coffee she took, I was certain I’d made the right decision.

  Still a bit sleepy, dressed in her Halloway Garage shirt and cut-off jean shorts, minimal makeup, she was the girl who could sling back beers with the guys, spend the night in a tent or under the stars and she wouldn’t need anything fancy. I’d give it to her if she needed it, but everything about her spoke to me on a visceral level.

  “You had enough yet?” I asked when she was pouring cup number two. She plopped in a dash of milk and re-settled her hip against the kitchen counter.

  “Enough that I’ll be able to remember what you said, yeah.”

  “Okay.” I prepared myself for the verbal assault she would surely lash out at me and took a seat next to her.

  “Your dad and I talked this morning,” I started, and her grip tightened on her coffee mug. “We made some decisions.”

  Her chin jutted out in an adorable way. “You and my dad made decisions.”

  “Yup.” I grinned and took a drink from my own mug. “I’m hiring a home health nurse for him. She can help with physical therapy, getting him cleaned up…giving you some time to relax.”

  Two brows rose on her forehead. “You hired him a home health nurse.”

  “Already made the calls.”

  Her quiet stillness concerned me. I was used to buckets of ice water on my head and verbal lashings. Paige hadn’t yet shown me what it meant when she was frozen and silent.

  She brought the mug to her lips. “Okay.”

  Not what I was expecting. “Kay?”

  “I mean, you’ve already done it, and frankly I need the best care for my dad. I can’t be around him as much as I need to and I don’t have the money to pay for it, but I had already decided upstairs I needed to do it. It kills me you’re paying for it, but if he’s okay with it, he’s still mentally there enough to make his own medical decisions.”

  It seemed like a trick. “Yeah? I’m going to be honest, I expected more of a fight.”

  With a heavy exhale, she asked, “Did you help my dad this morning?”

  “I spent a lot of years helping my mom.” It wasn’t a direct answer, but it was enough of an explanation, she understood.

  “And he was okay with it?”

  “As much as he could be.” He’d actually called me a rich prick at first, accused me of just wanting to spend more time with his daughter. I’d said yes to both and he’d laughed.

  She was silent for several moments, draining her second cup of coffee. “I told myself this morning when I was upstairs getting ready and I thought you’d left, that it was time I stopped underestimating how good of a guy you were.”

  Now that’s the kind of news I wanted to hear. “Yeah?”

  Another pause. She looked into her mug.

  As she took her time, my back pulled tight and I walked closer. “Paige?”

  Her cheeks puffed and she exhaled a harsh breath. Lifting her head, she scraped her teeth over her top lip. “I had this boyfriend.”

  “Spencer.” I hadn’t forgotten about him. Crossing my arms, I waited for her to continue.

  “We’d been dating for a couple years when my dad had his first stroke. When I decided to move home, he’d promised me we’d make a long distance relationship work.” She turned and refilled her coffee. Every second she delayed talking made my pulse ratchet up. When she had taken another sip, she continued. “Two weeks later, after I’d told him I couldn’t go back to Charlotte one weekend he broke up with me.”

  “Paige—”

  “He’s a jerk. I know that now.”

  “He’s not a jerk. He’s a dick, and not worth your time.”

  She laughed once, but it was cold and flat. “Like I said, I know that now.” She squeezed her eyes closed and when she opened them, sadness filled her hazel eyes. “He isn’t the only guy who’s not wanted anything to do with me once they realize I don’t have the time they think they’re entitled to.”

  She’d laid a minefield, but it helped me understand where she was at, why it’d upset her so much that she was with me when her dad was hurt. Why she approached us with a wall between us.

  The sound of bricks crumbling to the floor between us echoed in my ears.

  “I’m not them, Paige. You forget I know what you’re going through. I don’t think less of you because you’re busy caring for someone you love. I admire the hell out of you for it.”

  Tears swam in her eyes but she blinked them back, nodding rapidly. “That’s why I decided this morning that I was going to trust you.”

  Jesus. She slayed me.

  My hands went to her cheeks and I pressed my lips to hers. I poured everything I felt for and her confession into the kiss. When I pulled back, my chest burned.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice rough, thick and filled with need for her.

  She licked her lips and opened her eyes. “I’m not happy you’re paying for my dad’s nurse. I always thought that help came with strings attached, but if there aren’t—”

  “Oh, there are strings. It means you spend more time with me, and I get what I want from you.”

  Her head tilted toward her shoulder. “And what do you want from me?”

  Everything, popped into my mind and I barely forced it back. I slid my hand to her hip and brushed my lips against her ear.

  She trembled, leaning into me while a puff of breath rushed from her lips. “Whatever you’ll give me, Paige. And trust me, I’ll be happy to take it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PAIGE

  I waited around Monday morning until Elsa could come over and hang with my dad until his new home heal
th care nurse showed up. Then I lost myself in eight hours of work where I did at least a dozen oil changes and then helped out with a new commission for a 1964 Camaro. A rusted and dulled orange color with thick black racing stripes that ran from the front all the way to the back, it looked like a disaster when it arrived on a flat bed trailer. The rust all around the wheel rims and missing two tires were the least of our restoration problems. In four to six weeks, it would be a thing of beauty.

  I called and talked to Melanie, the nurse, a half-dozen times and every time we spoke she assured me with a sweet tilt in her voice that everything was fine and she and my dad were just settling in and getting to know each other.

  Everything Beaux had done made me more indebted to him. Not that I expected him to hold it over me. He was quickly showing me he was the kind of man to provide and protect and be a partner in all things big or small. Sure, he did it in a way that was way more bossy than I would normally be attracted to, but I’d also grown up with my dad, a man’s man through and through, being the only guy I knew. And in some ways, Beaux reminded me of him. Strong and resilient, confident with a hint of well-deserved arrogance.

  When I closed my eyes while I sat in the office and thought about Beaux, I could imagine this was exactly the kind of guy my dad would want for me. It had nothing to do with the multi-million dollar contract attached to Beaux’s name.

  It was his kindness and his patience and his easy smiles and his intensity and pure focus whenever I was in the room.

  It was his undeniable sexiness that made my knees wobble every time he flashed his blue eyes on me.

  Good Lord. I was falling for him, and for once, I didn’t want to step on the brakes.

  I talked to Beaux last night on the phone. He called me after he got home from practice and the first thing he’d asked was how the nurse was working out and how Dad was feeling.

  My heart turned to a pile of mush.

  So when he told me—commanded, not asked—I was coming to his place tonight after work to have dinner, I had absolutely no way to refuse him.