Show Time: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by KB Winters

  There was something magnetic about him and I couldn’t pull away.

  Not yet.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” he asked. His voice was smooth and even, but laced with insinuation. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, but it seemed like a loaded question.

  “No plans.” My words had never failed me more.

  I’d never been much for flirting, but this was embarrassing. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned and walked away, shaking his head and wondering what rock I’d grown up under.

  “A beautiful girl like you should always have plans,” he said, letting his eyes wander up and down me, unapologetically.

  So that’s what it felt like to be undressed by someone’s eyes? I crossed my arms and wrapped them tight against me, trying to stave off his hungry eyes. They were gleaming in the moonlight as he brought them back up to mine, and he gave another heart-stopping smile.

  “Come with me,” he said. “We can go to my suite and order some room service.”

  Oh, now it made sense. He thought that because I wasn’t a size zero with fake tits that meant I obviously had confidence issues and would make me an easy score.

  If I hadn’t been so insulted, I would have almost admired his direct, cut to the chase approach. As it was, I was just angry that he thought I would be so stupid as to go back to some stranger’s hotel room after a five-minute conversation. Not to judge, but surely, of all the girls crammed into the bar, there were others who would be a little more susceptible to go along with his plan—no questions asked.

  “No, thanks.” I pushed past him and started back towards the bar.

  He caught me by the hand and whirled me around to face him. He held me, nearly pressed up against him as he stared down into my eyes, his smile still intact even though I’d rejected him. I was tall and had a medium frame, but his six foot plus, muscled body made me feel tiny as we stood toe to toe. I took in a deep breath, his scent filling my head and my knees wobbled. I thought he might try to kiss me and my head was screaming ‘No’ and my body was screaming ‘Fuck yes!’

  “Goodnight, Ellie.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he released me and I nearly stumbled backwards at the suddenness. He turned and disappeared into the night and after I watched him go, I went back into the bar, letting the loud music, and even louder crowd, drown out the multitude questions starting to build in my mind.

  But I couldn’t escape him forever. The last thing in my mind when my head hit the pillow was Dylan and that secret smile.

  Chapter Three — Ellie

  “I meant to ask, where did you disappear to last night? I swear, you left me hanging for awhile there,” Dixie asked as we settled into two lounge chairs.

  I started slathering SPF 70 all over my body and tried not to envy Dixie’s darker complexion that would only get darker and darker as the week wore on. I would be lucky to not turn into a peely lobster.

  “Oh, that guy from the bar wanted to talk,” I said, polishing my legs with the oily liquid before throwing the tube back into the faded tote bag I’d brought down with me.

  “Which guy?” Dixie asked, tossing me a wicked smile. “There were so many of them. Isn’t it fantastic?”

  I rolled my eyes behind my oversized shades. “Yes, Dix, fantastic. I’m shocked you came back to our room at all last night.”

  When I’d called it a night, she was still going strong, doing body shots with some skeevy-looking guy at the bar. I knew it wasn’t cool to leave her there, but it was two a.m. and she had shown no signs of slowing down.

  She laughed it off. “Well, after the third shot, Mr. Boardshorts couldn’t keep his shit together, so I bailed.”

  “Aha. Whooda thunk it?”

  “All right, Miss Princess, you need to lighten up over there. This is a vacation. Remember?” She pulled down her own sunglasses and shot me a look.

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m glad you had fun.”

  Truly, I was. I was just stressed out and taking it out on her.

  “What’s going on with you anyway, chica?” Dixie asked, rolling over to sun her back.

  I let out a long sigh and played with the sheer sarong lying across my lap. It had been a while since I’d worn a swim suit, and even with the cover up, I was feeling really exposed. It was the most naked I’d been in public for quite a while.

  “I don’t know, Dix. I just can’t seem to relax. I have way too many things on my mind. I mean—”

  “—I know what you need!” She propped herself up and before I could stop her, she’d waved over one of the servers who wandered the beach, taking drink and food orders back to the beachfront restaurant. I wasn’t worried about the cost of the drinks. We were staying at an all-inclusive resort, and for us everything was free anyway since it had been a prize from some sweepstakes I’d entered at the mall, but it just seemed weird to order drinks before noon.

  Dixie ordered two blended margaritas, and then flopped back down and rested her head against her arms. “All right, now what’s up? Tell me about the guy in the bar.”

  I laughed. “There’s nothing to tell. I promise.”

  “Well, something has you all fucked up. Please don’t tell me this is about Drew.”

  Her question seemed out of left field. Drew—my tool bag ex—was the farthest thing from my mind.

  At least he had been, before Dixie brought it up.

  “No, no.” I’d shoved him far, far away, right where he belonged. “Not about Drew. It’s me. I’m just stuck in my own head, I guess.”

  The man who had taken our drink order returned and set down the two drinks on the tiny table between the two lounge chairs.

  “This is for you, Miss,” he added, setting down a gorgeous arrangement of tropical flowers. The vase was tall and skinny and bursting with palm-frond type leaves and bird of paradise flowers.

  Dixie pulled down her shades again as she looked from the lush arrangement that had been placed on the table and then back to me. “You sure the bar guy was nothing?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dix, we don’t even know who they’re from. They’re probably from the hotel or the sweepstakes people.”

  I spun the vase around, looking for a card, but came up empty-handed. “See, there isn’t even a card.”

  Dixie looked less than convinced. She slipped the glasses back up her nose and lay her head back down.

  These aren’t from Dylan, are they? Why would he send me flowers?

  “Speak of the devil…” I whispered as I saw him approaching from a ways down the beach. I sat up straighter and re-adjusted my sarong, making sure it was covering the most offending of my insecurities. Thunder and Lightning—AKA—my thighs.

  “Holy shitballs,” Dix squealed. She craned her neck back before flipping over and adjusting her cleavage as her boobs threatened to escape her virtually non-existent bikini top. “That’s the guy?”

  I nodded and put on my best bored face as he neared.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Dylan drawled as he stopped before our chairs.

  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Martha, but everyone calls me Dixie, because…well…names not important, nor the reason why.” she said with a giggle as she stuck her hand out for a shake.

  It was actually a funny story. Back in our freshman year, she’d picked up the nickname from a pack of particularly nasty sorority girls. Dixie, because she sucked a lot of dicks…but in true Dixie fashion, she’d brushed the bitches right off her shoulders and rolled with the new moniker and she’d been Dixie ever since.

  I just hoped her parents never asked her why, because knowing Dixie, she would tell them straight out.

  Dylan was smiling down at Dixie—who had removed her sunglasses in order to make better “fuck me” eyes at him—and I was beginning to feel third-wheel vibes.

  “Nice flowers,” he commented, nodding towards the arrangement. “I’ll need to send my compliments to the florist.”

  Dixie
shot me an “I told you so” look.

  “You sent these?” I asked, staring at him fiercely.

  “Yes.”

  “To me?”

  His lips quirked and I got the distinct impression that he was holding back a laugh. “Yes.”

  “Why?” I folded my arms, but then quickly dropped them when I spotted my out-of-control cleavage in the reflection of his Oakley’s as he stared down at me. The last fucking thing I needed was him thinking I was trying to put the girls on display for him.

  “Beautiful ladies deserve beautiful things,” he replied.

  I swore I heard Dixie swoon.

  I—on the other hand—was busy trying not to have a heart attack. I wasn’t interested in the Spartan-like specimen in front of me, but it was slightly mind-blowing he would appear to be interested in me.

  What is the catch?

  “Well, thank you. Dix and I will share them,” I said, gesturing between Dixie and me

  I didn’t dare glance over, but I knew Dixie’s face would be lit up with her classic WTF face. She would never understand why I was passing over the sex-on-a-stick standing in front of us.

  Truth was, I didn’t know either. I just had a gut feeling that he was trouble. Dixie could handle trouble. She chewed guys up and spit them out like it was nothing. I hadn’t been gifted with such a casual disposition. The guys I allowed into my life tended to stick around too long, and take too much with them when they left. I couldn’t even fathom what kind of wreckage would occur if I let down my guard and allowed this one to barge into my heart.

  Then again, he wasn’t exactly the type who was probably interested in my heart. His interests probably lay further south. And I would be lying—and blind—if I said I wasn’t curious what that would be like. But no…

  He was too good looking, too slick, too…everything. It would be best to keep my distance.

  “Dixie,” Dylan said with a nod, snapping my eyes off the perfectly indented segments of his washboard abs.

  Not that I’d been staring.

  “What’s on the agenda today, ladies? Drinks, I see.” He leaned in and snatched up my glass and gave it a sniff. “Oh, no, no. This will never do.”

  He waved to a server who hustled over with a slightly panicked expression on his face as he approached. Almost like he’d been through this before.

  “Sir, please take these drinks away and bring these ladies the best you have. Don’t you think beautiful women only deserve top shelf?”

  “Yes, sir.” The server nodded and hurried away with the drinks.

  “You have to be very specific with these people, otherwise you’re going to end up with a bargain tequila hangover, and let me assure you, that would be most unpleasant.”

  I nearly laughed at the horrified look on Dixie’s face as she watched her drink floating away. I knew she was more of a backyard beer and BBQ kind of girl who couldn’t have cared less about top shelf liquor. As long as it tasted good and gave her a buzz, it was all good in her book.

  “Was that really necessary?” she asked, finally snapping back to Dylan. “I was enjoying that one.”

  Dylan didn’t seem ruffled by her challenge. “You’ll thank me. Trust me.”

  She wrinkled her nose and slipped her glasses back on, and I knew she’d checked out of the conversation. Which, unfortunately, left me alone to deal with my arrogant, although hotter than hot, company.

  “Ellie, do you have dinner plans tonight?” he asked, shifting his attention back to me.

  “Yes, she does. With me,” Dixie chimed in, not bothering to even look over at me.

  “I see. That’s too bad,” Dylan replied. It was hard to tell with his dark sunglasses on, but the timbre of his voice changed ever so slightly and I couldn’t resist a smirk at his obvious irritation.

  Now if he would just leave…he was blocking my view of the ocean.

  And making me dizzy. Although, who knows…the blame for that could lay squarely with cheap tequila he had so gallantly saved us from.

  “Have a nice day, Dylan,” I said.

  He flashed a heart-stopping smile at me and then a slight nod of his head before he wandered away.

  Not two seconds after he’d left, our fresh drinks arrived, and damn it all—he’d been right. The new drinks were much better and I couldn’t help but smile as I licked at the sugar dusted rim.

  “What the fuck was that?” Dixie fumed as soon as he was out of earshot. She looked over at me, her brow creased, as if I were to blame.

  I shrugged. “He was like that last night, too. Very…cocky. And don’t look at me like that. You’ll get wrinkles.”

  “Gross. What is it with guys like that? They think just ‘because they have some jingle in their pocket, they can be ass wipes all the time?”

  She proceeded to mock his assessment of our drinks with a pretty spot on impersonation of his mannerisms.

  “And then, after all that he tries to ask you out on a date? Jeez, set of kahunas on that guy,” she continued before she finished her rant and lay back in her chair.

  “It wasn’t a date,” I protested. But the very idea made my heart palpitate.

  Dixie looked over at me and slid her glasses down her nose to shoot me a look like someone might give a baby animal. “That’s cute. You’re so fucking innocent, Elle. That man wants to get into your granny panties and that’s all I’m saying about it.”

  “Hey! I don’t wear granny panties!” I thought about the white cotton briefs in my suitcase. She was right, although…I did bring a lace pair…or two.

  I cut my glance away and let my eyes wander down the path Dylan had just made through the sand.

  She was probably right, if he was like any other guy I knew, he only wanted one thing.

  But for some reason, the idea of a one night stand didn’t repulse me as much as it probably should have.

  Chapter Four — Ellie

  Dixie and I laid out most of the day in the sun, mostly passing the time by drinking and people-watching. It was the laziest I’d allowed myself to be in ages. I was a political science student at Georgetown University, and my life revolved around books, classes, homework, study groups, and what remaining shred of energy I had at the end of the day was devoted to trying to maintain some semblance of a social life. I watched other people balance it all the time. They seemed to have found the magical elixir that let them be amazing at everything. Most days, I struggled to even brush my hair before I was out the door, running late as always.

  By the time we retired back to our shared suite to shower and change for dinner, I was feeling sapped of all energy from being out in the sun too long. After leaving the shower, I made the critical mistake of laying down, all warm and snuggly in my towel, and my will to get back up completely vanished.

  Dixie ran laps around me, as she did her hair, makeup, and got changed into a short, red dress that hugged her body just right. When she finally stopped blitzing around and saw me on the bed, she put her hands on her hips and stared down at me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “Being a slug,” I replied.

  “What about dinner? Come on, El, I don’t wanna go alone.” She scrunched up her face and gave me a pouty lip.

  “I know, I know.” I heaved myself up and scooted to the edge of the bed, letting my bare feet graze the warm, tiled floor. “I’ll be down in ten.”

  She looked me up and down and gave me an “are you sure about that” look.

  “Go on, order us drinks and an appetizer and I’ll be there before it even gets to the table. The thought of fresh crab cakes will motivate me,” I said, smiling as she rolled her eyes.

  “Fine. I’ll see you soon.” She emphasized the word soon, and I knew she didn’t believe me for a minute. But she flounced away and moments later, I heard the door close behind her.

  I flopped back on the bed and stared at the slowly spinning ceiling fan.

  What is wrong with me? I’m on vacation in paradise, and all I want to do is lie
in bed and stare at a fan?

  Dixie’s question about Drew floated back to me and I pressed my eyes shut against the memories that always seemed to be on standby, ready to barge in whenever I let my guard down. No, it wasn’t about Drew. He was in the past—where he belonged.

  I pushed off the bed and gave my whole body a shake—ignoring the jiggly parts—in a self-induced exorcism of whatever bad juju had me feeling like shit. I combed my long, dark hair and then tied it up into a tight bun on the top of my head, before blasting it with the highest setting on the blow dryer. After five minutes, I released it, and gave a satisfied smile as the loose curls fell past my shoulders. I smattered on some tinted moisturizer, mascara, and a swipe of lip gloss before changing into a soft cotton, cobalt blue maxi dress and slipping on some gold, strappy sandals.

  I did a final spin in the mirror, checking all angles, and then snatched up my little clutch. It was the same one from the night before. It had seen better days, but it was my favorite.

  As soon as I stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut, I felt a hand on my arm and I jerked around so fast that my legs got tangled in the long fabric of my dress and I pitched forward.

  Right into the arms of Dylan.

  “Whoa,” he said, catching me before I face-planted in the hallway. “I guess you liked the drink after all.”

  I knew he was joking, based on the easy smile across his smug face, but I sneered at him anyways and as soon as I felt stationary once again, I pushed his hands away from me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Walking.”

  “Oh, really? Waling or stalking? Right outside my room? At the exact same time I stepped out?” I cocked an eyebrow at him to let him know I wasn’t buying his shit.

  “What else would I be doing?” he asked, mirroring my skeptical face, although it probably looked ten times hotter on him. Which only made me that much more infuriated.

  “Spying on me,” I threw back.

  He let a laugh out and it echoed down the deserted hallway. Oh, great! No one around to witness my kidnapping. “How would I even know this was your room?”