Show Time: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by KB Winters

  “Not really…” I shook my head. “Besides, I needed to get out of the house. And I need the money. That big fancy college didn’t come cheap.”

  Aunt Maggie sighed. “All I’m saying is that you have the rest of your life to work yourself to death. After you’ve been in school for so long. You should travel the world, do something fun, crazy. Have sex under the stars—”

  “—Mags!”

  “Oh, Gwenie.” She laughed and patted my arm. “I may be old, but I had fun when I was your age.”

  I embraced her in a gentle side hug and looked down into her blue eyes, always sparkling. “I’m happy, Aunt Mags. I do have fun. I promise.”

  Her thinned lips twitched as though she were about to argue but the bell at the front door rang and interrupted her thoughts. She offered a warm smile for the man who walked inside, shaking a layer of snowflakes from the shoulders of his black jacket before he stepped off the rubber mat. It had started snowing about an hour earlier and a light dusting covered the sidewalk and parking lot in front of the quaint diner. Before I could turn and assess how much progress the snow had made since the last time I’d glanced outside, the man looked up from stomping off his black boots and his stormy grey eyes locked with mine. The breath in my lungs hitched into a soft gasp as a shiver snaked up my spine. I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the gust of chilly air that followed the stranger inside.

  “Evening,” Maggie chirped. “Take a seat anywhere you like. Hot coffee?”

  The man nodded, offered a quick smile at Maggie and wandered to a corner table. I studied his back as he walked. Though it was encased in a thick winter coat, there was no doubt that the body underneath was big, broad, and strong. His steps were so solid—and sure—I couldn’t stop staring.

  A sharp poke to my ribs jolted me from my ogling. “Ouch!” I hissed, rubbing the sore spot at my side.

  Aunt Maggie just giggled. “That’s the CIA guy I was telling you about.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Aunt Maggie—”

  She interrupted me with another poke. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, child!”

  I held up both hands. “Okay, okay. I just think you’re jumping to some pretty lofty conclusions there. That’s all.”

  “I just call it like I see it. He comes in at least once—sometimes twice—a week. He’s usually wearing black. He always has that bag. He sits in the corner closest to the back door and keeps his back to the corner so he can see the whole room.”

  “I think you’ve been watching too many spy movies,” I replied with a sigh.

  “Yeah, well, spy movies are the only ones with the good lookin’ men!”

  I pressed my lips together to stifle a giggle. Aunt Maggie bent forward at the waist and stared at the mystery man as he lowered into the booth seat, a messenger bag at his hip. He lifted the strap from over his head and pushed the bag flat against the seat so it wouldn’t slip onto the black and white checkered floor.

  I had to give Aunt Maggie some credit. He did kind of look like a spy. Black jacket, dark jeans, and big black boots. The messenger bag and the dark look in his eyes only reinforced her wild theory. I shook my head. What am I thinking? Aunt Maggie’s crazy. Everyone knows that.

  “Here,” she said, handing me a pot of hot coffee.

  “Aunt Maggie…” I bit down on my lips, stopping myself short of whining. For whatever reason, the man in the corner booth intimidated me and it had nothing to do with the cockamamie idea of Maggie’s that he was a spy.

  No, it was that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, wide shoulders, flat chest, and biceps the size of my head. Combined with sandy brown hair, those shocking grey eyes, and full pout. He’d managed to get me excited about the coffee in my hand, and we hadn’t even spoken!

  Relax, Gwen. I mentally scolded myself as I walked toward the booth, my chunky heels tapping the polished floor with every step. Aunt Maggie never had any children of her own and devoted her whole life to the diner. It was nearly fifty years old, but every inch was shined to perfection as though it was freshly built. There wasn’t a speck of dust on any of the artwork lining the walls, no stains on the long counter, and even the napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers were polished daily.

  “Evening,” I said, approaching the table. My voice trembled slightly and I wanted to smack my own forehead. “What brings you out in this beastly weather?” I asked, glancing up from the stream of hot coffee as I poured it into the stranger’s mug.

  His grey eyes met mine and he offered a slight smile. “Needed a change of scenery.”

  I finished pouring his coffee. “And how’s the view here?” My eyes went wide as soon as the words slipped through my lips and I realized just how much of my cleavage had escaped the neckline of my sweater.

  Gwenyth Ellen Bristol!

  “I uh—just mean with the snow and the lake and the…ya know what…I’ll be right back.” I took two quick steps before turning to toss a menu on the edge of his table and hurried to the safety behind the counter.

  Aunt Maggie was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “They didn’t teach you how to pick up a man at that fancy school of yours, did they?” she asked, quirking a fair eyebrow in my direction.

  I shot her a dirty look and went to scrubbing the already-pristine counter. “I wasn’t trying to pick him up,” I replied in a haughty whisper.

  “That’s a pity,” she said, leaning past me to survey the man. “’Cause he hasn’t stopped staring at your ass.”

  “Aunt Maggie!”

  She flashed a coy little smile as she shrugged her shoulders. “Have a good night, dear.”

  Chapter Three

  Carson

  Truth be told, I was more than simply enjoying the view. I was infatuated with the curvy redheaded waitress. Damn! I smirked down into my half-filled cup of coffee. She’d ran off before filling it the rest of the way, and judging by the crimson splash of color on her cheeks, it was going to be a few minutes before she came back over. I picked up the menu from the edge of the table and studied it, even though I already knew exactly what I wanted.

  Well, besides the gorgeous woman with a great ass fiddling with a stack of menus.

  Aunt Maggie—as she was known to all the locals—winked at me as she passed by on her way toward the back door. I’d been coming to her diner for the past six months.

  Even though I’d been in Bitsburg for close to four years, I’d only recently stumbled upon the diner. One night, after we’d lost a game, I was tired, pissed off, hungry, and wanted a hole in the wall place where no one would mess with me. Maggie’s Homestyle Diner was the perfect place and I’d been coming back weekly ever since. But I’d never seen the hot-ass redhead before. I would have remembered her for sure. With a—hopefully—indiscernible glance across her chest, I noticed she wasn’t wearing a name tag and figured she must be new. She came back over to my table a few minutes later, smiling politely, a twinge of color still showing on her cheeks. “Did you have any questions?”

  I braced my arms on the table top. “What’s your name?”

  “I meant about the menu.”

  I smirked. “In that case, no. I’m pretty attached to the biscuits and gravy.”

  “Right,” she said, smiling as she reached for the menu I’d placed at the edge of the table. She swept it up and pressed it against her chest. Lucky menu. The woman was stunning. She had an hourglass shape and wasn’t afraid to show it off in a pair of black jeans and a tight red sweater. A gold necklace hung around her neck, gently dipping down right between her boobs as they peeked out from the rounded neckline. “I’ll put that order in and have it out in a few. Anything I can get you while you wait?”

  I shook my head. “I’m all right. Thank you.”

  She gave a slight nod and started back to the counter, but once again stopped short, and turned back to say, “Gwen.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You asked for my name. It’s Gwen.”

  I turned the name over in my he
ad and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Gwen.”

  She shifted her weight to her other side, ready to continue on her path, but she stalled. “And yours?”

  “Carson,” I answered, deliberately leaving my last name out. Gwen hadn’t given me hers and besides, I didn’t need any special treatment on the off chance that she recognized my name.

  “Carson.”

  I instantly liked the way she said it.

  “I’ll go take care of this,” she said, holding up the menu in her hands. I noticed her nails were kept short but painted a light pink with white tips. From the way she was dressed and the way she carried herself, I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing working in the small diner. Not that it wasn’t a nice place, but for some reason she seemed out of place.

  She walked off and I only managed to peel my eyes from her round ass when she was on the other side of the red swinging door that led into the kitchen.

  “Get your head in the game, Stiles,” I chided myself, rolling my eyes at my own distraction. I’d come to Maggie’s to get a bite to eat and have a quiet place to study the playbook. If I’d wanted to stare at tits and ass I could have gone to Le Vie with the rest of the guys on the team.

  I pulled the binder from my bag and flipped open to the beginning. The day’s events were still replaying in my mind. Peters’ fluke accident had put me in a place I’ve never been before. Even during my days in college nothing like this had ever happened. One minute I was working on my resume and wondering what life had in store for me once football was over—and the next, I was the starting quarterback for the Bitsburg Cannons. Every news channel and football fan in the world was discussing my chances going into Sunday’s game against the Vultures. It all mashed together and made my gut feel like a loaded Jack-in-the-Box ready to spring.

  I sat back in the booth and let out a long sigh. I’d been waiting four years for this chance. And it was finally here. I knew my window of time was rapidly diminishing—a fact my agent reminded me of on a monthly basis—and if I was going to get an extension to my contract—I needed to make a splash.

  A big splash.

  Most people assumed that once you got drafted and made it to the NFL you were set for life. That wasn’t the case. Not by a long shot. If anything, it became even harder. Four years riding the bench meant that my expiration date was coming up fast and no one would even know my name.

  Until now…

  It was damn hard to study with Gwen swishing past my table half a dozen times. A whiff of her sexy perfume would follow her and the x’s and o’s on the pages in front of me started to blur together. After a little while, she brought me a large white platter filled with Maggie’s famous biscuits and a hearty helping of gravy. At the sight, my stomach rumbled loudly enough that the entire diner probably heard it. I shoved the open play book to the side of the table to make space as she set the plate down in front of me.

  “More coffee?” Gwen asked, holding up the pot of coffee clutched in her other hand.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  “Are you a student?” she asked, pouring a steady stream of coffee into my waiting mug. I followed her glance to the book and mess of papers I’d pushed aside.

  “Football player, actually.”

  Gwen’s eyes went wide as she searched my face, as though hunting for a flicker of recognition. “College?”

  I laughed softly. “I’m with the Cannons.”

  “Really? Wow.”

  “You a fan?”

  Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Are you gonna be offended if I said I don’t know a damn thing about football?”

  I chuckled as I shook my head. “Not at all.”

  “Whew. That’s a relief,” she replied, grinning widely. “My dad’s a football fan but I never really got into it. Lord knows he tried. I’m an only child. He did try to convert me into a little tomboy, but I was more of a princess and baby dolls kind of girl.” Gwen took a step backward and swiped a rolled-up napkin from the counter. She handed it to me and I unwrapped it to get to my silverware. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I wanted to ask her to stay, but before I could find the words, she slipped away, going back to the other side of the diner to refill coffees for the other customers. There weren’t many people in the diner, but it was getting late. I glanced at the platinum watch on my wrist, the single indulgence I’d allowed myself once my rookie contract was signed. It was nearly ten o’clock. Maggie’s stayed open until midnight, taking advantage of the traffic from the truck stop nearby and late night travelers who were in desperate need for a cup of joe before they hit the highway again.

  As I dug into my late dinner, I watched Gwen, wondering where she’d go once the diner was closed for the night. Did she live nearby? Did she have a roommate? She didn’t have a ring on her finger but maybe she had a boyfriend. For some reason the thought didn’t sit well with me. A tiny surge of jealousy came to me and I scoffed at myself. I knew nothing about her. And had no right to get worked up over a possibly make believe boyfriend. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I returned to my playbook, shoveling in mouthwatering bites every few pages. I only glanced up when the cash register rang out or the bell at the front doors tinkled. One by one, the customers filtered out. Gwen kept busy ringing up tabs and clearing tables. She looped back to my table when I was just picking up my last bite.

  She leaned against the opposite booth and smiled down at me. “Well, Mr. Football player, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s dumped down another four inches of snow while you’ve been lost in your book there.”

  I shot a sidelong glance out the window. Sure enough, the hood of my truck had a nice thick layer of fresh snow. I had four wheel drive and snow tires so I wasn’t too worried. The other car left in the lot was almost completely buried under the snow, as though it had been parked there all day. “That your ride?” I asked, jerking my chin in the direction of the car-shaped igloo.

  Gwen shook her head. “No. That’s the line cook’s. He’s headed out now, so…if you were hoping for a second helping, you’re kinda out of luck.”

  I chuckled and pushed my plate away. “I think one more cup of coffee and I’ll be good to go.” I cast a glance around the diner. We were the only two people in the dining room. “Any chance you want to join me?”

  Gwen straightened and shot a nervous look around the room. I could almost see her reaching the same conclusion I just did. We were alone.

  Before she could answer, the kitchen door swung open and two people crossed through the dining room, a tall, gangly man and a petite blonde with a skinny ass and way too much makeup. They both waved in our direction. “See you tomorrow, Gwen?” the blonde asked, her penciled on eyebrows shooting up her smooth forehead.

  Gwen shook her head. “Not until next week. Tuesday.”

  The blonde pouted. “All right. Drive safe!”

  “You too,” Gwen replied. “Night, Benji.”

  The man raised a hand and then pulled the door open for the little blonde. She didn’t seem fazed by the stack of snow on the walk out front, even though she was wearing dangerously high looking heels. The doorbell jingled as the door shut behind them, and Gwen and I watched as the man pried open the passenger door and let the blonde get inside as he went to work scraping snow and ice off the car.

  “It’s hell out there. You have a ride lined up tonight?” I asked, returning to my previous theory that she had a boyfriend who’d be coming to get her.

  Gwen shook her head. “No. Aunt Maggie picked me up so I’ll probably have to call my dad to come get me. My car is DOA.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Perfect timing.” She frowned out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts for a minute.

  “I could give you a ride home.”

  She snapped to attention. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that.”

  I leaned back in my seat and spread my arm out along the top of the boot
h. “It’s not a problem. I drive that monster out there. She can handle this snow without flinching.”

  Gwen glanced out at the truck and her sexiness shot up a thousand degrees when she nibbled on her lower lip—obviously thinking about my offer.

  “Listen, why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee and think about it?”

  She glanced back at me and thought for a minute before she went to retrieve the coffee pot from the warming plate behind the counter. She brought it, and a new mug, over to the table and refilled my mug before filling her own. She slid into the seat opposite me, one hand wrapped around her mug and the other went to the pendant on her necklace, a delicate G, and fiddled with it absently.

  I picked up my own mug. “I’ve been coming here for a few months now and I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  Gwen smiled and released the necklace. “Well, up until a few weeks ago, I was barely doing anything but freaking out about my bar exam.”

  My eyebrow hitched up. “Bar? Impressive.”

  She shrugged a single shoulder. “I haven’t passed yet. Or at least if I have, I don’t know yet. I’m still waiting for the results. They should be here any day now.”

  “I’m sure you did,” I said, knowing it sounded stupid, considering I’d only met her an hour before. It was a platitude, but she smiled anyway. “Did you say Maggie’s your aunt?”

  Gwen nodded. “Yeah, on my dad’s side.”

  “You’re lucky. She’s great. I remember my first visit, she came right up to me and asked me who I was, where I came from. She was very welcoming.”

  Gwen giggled.

  “What?”

  “She thinks you’re a spy working with the CIA.”

  “She does?”

  Gwen laughed harder and covered her mouth.