In Too Deep

by Lexi Ryan

  She freezes with the oven half open, and I wonder what it is about my question that makes her uncomfortable. “Faith will be six in September. I’m hoping I can spend a little more time with her when I come back to town.”

  “Is that why you agreed to stay?”

  She pulls out the pizza and puts the pan on the stove. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  There are those walls she holds so dear. She doesn’t want to talk about her family. Fine. “I have to pack and then run a few errands. We’re supposed to check in for training camp Sunday night.”

  She puts the potholder back in the drawer before turning to me. “No problem. I fly home in the morning, but I’ll be back in August to play the part of Mrs. Dahl.”

  I swallow, but it does nothing to fill the nervous emptiness in the pit of my gut. “Why don’t you come sooner? You could get settled while I’m gone, enjoy the house and the beach.”

  She shakes her head. “No thanks. I’ll just meet you here when you’re back. I need to get things in order if I’m going to be away for four months.”

  “The house is here if you change your mind.” I’m half afraid she will change her mind over the next three weeks—but about the marriage, not about coming down early. What if she has too much time to think and decides to stay in Blackhawk Valley with all the memories? I don’t just want her to move in because it benefits me. I want to get her away from the creeps of Blackhawk Valley who see her as a stripper and nothing more. I want to save her from the past.

  Nic Mendez is dead and buried, and I’m still trying to protect her from him.

  Four years ago . . .

  Arrow looks up from his biology textbook and watches me pace. When I stop, he arches a brow. “I’ve honestly never seen you this screwed up over a girl,” he says.

  “Why do you think this is about a girl?”

  He grunts and shakes his head, putting his attention back on his textbook. “Forget I said anything.”

  It’s been a shit day. My dad showed up in town unannounced, which is never a welcome surprise, and I was distracted and fumbled three times at practice. To top it all off, I heard that Bailey’s drug-dealing ex is being released from prison on parole. Now, Bailey is late getting back from work, and I have a sick feeling in my gut that I’ve lost her.

  I fucking hate the idea of her spending her nights letting other men look at her. I knew who she was and what she did when I approached her, and at the time, it didn’t bother me. But then I realized she was more than a great pair of legs in a pair of tight white shorts. She was more than long blond hair and a pretty smile. I didn’t expect her to make me laugh or feel things. I didn’t expect to become so possessive. This is all new to me.

  I sink into the chair. “Do you think she talks to Mia about me? Maybe I could ask Brogan . . .”

  Arrow tenses then shrugs. “Sure. Ask Brogan what Mia says.”

  Laughter rings through the hallway, and I recognize the sound. It makes me smile without thinking, and something funny happens in my chest.

  Arrow’s gaze shifts to the door before coming back to me. “You don’t have to play it cool, you know. Sometimes it’s better to let them know how you really feel.”

  That’s interesting advice coming from the guy who has it bad for his best friend’s girl, but I don’t say that. Instead, I hop off the couch and go down the hall to Bailey’s room.

  Our dorm is made up of quads—two double dorm rooms that share a living space and bathroom. Bailey’s door is open. I step into her common area and get hit with the typical gut punch. When I first met her, the punch was pure lust. Now it’s evolved into longing. I want more. She’s talking to her roommate and has her shower caddy in her hand and a towel thrown over her shoulder. I’ve mentioned to her before that maybe a job that leaves you needing a hot shower isn’t the best, but I don’t think she appreciated it.

  The laughter falls from Bailey’s face when she sees me. But her roommate misses it and bites back a smile. “I’ll get out of your way,” she says before scurrying off to her room.

  “Need any help in that shower?” I ask Bailey.

  Her lips part, and her gaze drops down my body and back up. “I’m good. Just want to wash the scum of the earth off me before I fall into bed.”

  I step forward and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes and draws back a few inches. “You okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her tone is hard and defensive and feels an awful lot like being stiff-armed on the field.

  “I don’t know. When my girl flinches at my touch, I can’t help but wonder.” Can’t help but worry that you’re thinking about someone else.

  She takes a step away and frowns. “Where’d you get the idea I was your girl?”

  My abs tense as if she just landed a blow with her fist. This is about Nic Mendez. Fuck. I hate when my gut’s right. “Aren’t you? Do you belong to someone else?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  Okay then. “Well, have a good shower.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and back toward the door, my pride demanding that I get away as fast as possible. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

  I head to my quad and force myself not to look back at her. Walking right by Arrow, who’s staring at me curiously, I head into our shared room and slam the door behind me before stripping down to my boxers. I hit the lights and climb into bed.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m still wide awake when I hear the soft click of the door opening and closing. I see her, silhouetted from the streetlight from the window over my bed. She climbs in beside me without a word. Her hair’s still wet, and she smells like the flowery pink lotion she puts on after every shower. I slide a hand over her back. She’s in a tank and a pair of those fitted shorts that barely cover her ass and make me lose my mind.

  I kiss her hard. She kisses me back—one hand behind my neck and the other roaming over my chest and across my stomach. My skin is on fire for her touch, my heart racing.

  “You know you can do better than me, right?” she asks, breathless.

  “What’s better than you?”

  “Maybe a girl who’s looking for more than a good time?” She slides her hand into my boxers. Taking my dick into her palm, she wraps her fingers around me and strokes. “I can’t be your girl, Mason.”

  Because you’re in love with him?

  I don’t ask. Because she’s here. Because she’s in my bed, and whether she likes being called my girl or not, right now, she’s mine. I grab her hand and pull it up over her head as I flip her over to her back and climb on top of her. I’m going to change her mind. I’m going to get this crazy idea out of her head that we can’t be together or that she’s not good enough for me. I’ll do it by shutting up about the fact that she’s a stripper. I’ll do it by showing her just how fucking special she is. I’ll do it by being the better man.

  Present day . . .

  Mason: Tell me if the dick pic asshole bothers you again.

  I get the text in the middle of my shift at The End Zone and bite my lip as I reread it. I’ve been back in Blackhawk Valley for two days, and even though we didn’t spend more than a few hours together while I was in Seaside, I kind of miss Mason. No, I totally miss him, and this text proves exactly why.

  I want to say I’ve never had a guy treat me like he does or care about me like he does, but that’s not true. I dated around after Nic went to prison and pushed me away. A lot of guys were kind and protective at first, but once they got what they wanted from me, they stopped. Not Mason. Mason has always treated me like I matter.

  Me: He won’t. But even if he did, what could you do about it? I doubt leaving training camp to kick some loser’s ass is worth the fine they’d hit you with.

  Mason: You underestimate how much I want to knock this guy out.

  I consider myself a strong, independent woman. Maybe that’s why it means so much to me that he still tries. He never makes me feel weak in his attempts to stand up for me. He r
eminds me I’m not alone. I wouldn’t have understood the difference four years ago, but now that I do, it’s profound.

  “You secretive bitch.”

  My head snaps up from my phone at the sound of the familiar voice. There’s a beautiful woman wearing a Chicago Bears jersey standing in the middle of The End Zone. I want to jump out of my seat and hug her tighter than I ever have. After a year of living four hours from Mia, you’d think I’d be used to the time apart by now, but I’m not. She’s my best friend, and I miss her so much. Since I haven’t had the courage to call her since the news of my marriage broke, I was pretty sure I’d have to grovel to get her to forgive me. But here she is.

  I may want to squeeze her, but I stay behind the bar and keep my distance, as if she’s a wounded animal. I intend to proceed with caution.

  “You’re married,” she says, hands on hips. “You got married over two months ago, and it didn’t occur to you to tell your best friend?” She reaches across the bar and smacks me on the arm.

  “Ow!” I rub the spot. “Violent much?”

  “Sorry.” She frowns. “I didn’t mean to hit that hard.” She lifts her chin. “But maybe you deserve it. Married?” Then she runs around the bar and squeezes me so tightly that I squeak. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Don’t be,” I whisper. I look over her shoulder to make sure no one is eavesdropping. The End Zone might not be best place for us to have this conversation.

  Releasing me, she backs up so she can see my face. “Why not? You married an awesome guy you’ve cared about for years. Why can’t I be happy?”

  I drop my gaze to the bar and grab a rag to rub at an imaginary spot. “It’s temporary, Mee. We did it while we were drunk in Vegas, and we were trying to keep it quiet so we didn’t detract from your wedding. We were going to take care of it, but now Mason needs a wife for a while.” I shrug. “It’s not permanent.”

  “But it could be.”

  I shake my head. Bless her heart, the little optimist can’t help herself. “No, it couldn’t. Anyway, Mason is only trying to disentangle his career from a potential relationship with the team owner’s daughter. He thinks our accidental marriage might put the matter to rest.”

  “Wow.” Mia’s shoulders sag. “That’s disappointing.”

  I cock my head. “It would be disappointing if I could be his wife, but you and I both know I can’t. So, it just is what it is.”

  Now she’s the one to look around to make sure we have relative privacy, but other than a couple of nearly senile professors chatting about Tolstoy in the corner, the place is dead. “Are you trying to tell me he still doesn’t know about the deal you made with his father?”

  In a moment of weakness a couple of years ago, I told Mia why I couldn’t be with Mason. On the one hand, it felt amazing to finally have someone to confide in. On the other hand, she’s been insistent ever since that I should confess the truth to him, and that’s not an option. “You know I can’t tell him. Even if I thought he could forgive me for taking that money—and I don’t think he would—it wouldn’t change how his family feels about me.” I shake my head. Mia might know I took money from Christian Dahl, but she doesn’t know why I’m afraid of him. How could she understand when she doesn’t know I have other secrets? The only person who knows all my secrets is Mason’s father, and that’s because he had a vested interest in unearthing them. “I’ll figure it out.”

  She squeezes my hand. “Don’t shut me out just because you’re ashamed of the choices you made. I’m your best friend. I get to know all your dirt. It’s the rule.”

  My chest stings with guilt. “I’m moving down there after training camp and spending a few months pretending to be his adoring wife. After that, I’ll come home and get back to running The End Zone like nothing ever changed.”

  She grimaces. “Arrow said they got an offer on the bar, and Keegan wants to take it.”

  My stomach knots. I might be coming back to a new boss. Or no job at all. I can’t say that I’m disappointed about not owning the business—I’m not passionate about The End Zone like I am about my photography—but the insecurity of a new owner is unsettling.

  Mia studies me. “If you’re still thinking about trying to buy this place, just tell them. They don’t want to screw you over.”

  And make Keegan and Arrow stay tied to a business they don’t really have the time for? Just for me? Keegan bought this place before he was signed, thinking he had no chance at a football career, and Arrow signed on as a silent partner to help with the money, not with any intention of running it himself. Now they both live elsewhere, and I suspect they’ve only held on to it this long for me. That doesn’t seem fair. “I knew they were selling. It’s not a big deal.” I take a breath and change the subject. “How are you even in town? Aren’t you busy with your new marriage and new house and new amazing life?”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “You sound a little bitter.”

  “I might be.” I sigh. “I’m glad you’re deliriously happy, but I miss my Mia.”

  “Well, you have me tonight. We’re here to visit our fathers before Arrow has to run off to the Bears’ training camp.” She makes a face. “I hate training camp. I swear, they find the most miserable location and run them hard during the hottest month of the year. Is Mason settled in okay?”

  I’ve been home for two days, and other than our brief exchange just now and answering Mason’s text when he asked if I made it home safely, we haven’t talked. I wrinkle my nose and load a rack of pint glasses. “I’m going to need some practice at this wife thing. I haven’t even asked.”

  She shakes her head. “Arrow said the only time he ever thought about walking away was during training camp last year. It’s brutal.” She pivots toward the entrance and waves at someone. “Hey, Ron! Long time, no see!”

  When I follow her gaze and see that the Ron in question is the same one who sent me a picture of his junk, I drop the glass in my hand, and it shatters on the floor.

  Mia jumps then puts her hand on my arm. “I’ll go grab the broom.” She rushes back to the kitchen before I can stop her, leaving me alone and face to face with Dick Pic Man.

  “Leave my bar before I call the cops,” I tell him.

  His face flushes red, and his eyes dart away as he swallows. “I’m here to apologize, and then I’ll leave.”

  I open my mouth to tell him to walk, not run, to the nearest exit, but then his words register, and I decide I deserve the apology he’s offering. “Make it quick.”

  He wipes his sweaty forehead and shifts from one foot to the other. He stares at his feet while he talks. “I was drunk and pissed, and I never should have sent that. But I had no idea you were married. You should have told me.”

  What a loser. “Your apology lost all credibility with the but. You can leave now.”

  He lifts his gaze to mine for a moment before staring at his feet again. “You’ll tell your husband I said sorry?”

  Did Mason contact him somehow and tell him to apologize? “Not if I have to look at your face in my bar again.”

  He lifts his chin, but his nostrils flare, and I can tell he’s as pissed as he is embarrassed. “Understood.”

  “And if I ever hear of you sending a woman an unsolicited dick pic again, I’ll fucking come after you myself.” I prop my fists on my hips. “I mean it when I say I could take you.”

  He shakes his head. “You think you’re this independent woman now, but marrying the rich guy doesn’t make you any less bought and paid for.”

  What a motherfucker. “Excuse me?”

  “What did you just say?” Mia asks behind me, her voice the screech of an angry mama bird. She steps forward and stands by my side.

  Ron holds up his hands, palms out. “Forget I said anything. Congratulations on your wedding. I promise you won’t see me again.” He turns around and heads out the door.

  “What the hell?” Mia asks.

  “He was a regular at the Pretty Kitty,” I say. “He saw
me at the bank the other day, and when our reunion didn’t go as he’d hoped, he sent me a dick pic and a nasty message.”

  “Ron? Seriously?” She sweeps up the shattered glass I’d all but forgotten about. “He always seemed so sweet. Didn’t hang with the best crowd, mind you, but he was the quiet one.”

  I stare at the door even though Ron is long gone. “I think Mason may have contacted him and told him he had to apologize.”

  She sweeps the shards into a dustpan. “Bet that scared the shit out of him. I’m pretty sure Ron would mess himself if Mason was in the same room as him now.”

  Am I a hypocrite? I was just thinking how nice it was to have Mason on my side about this. But the idea of him contacting Ron without telling me makes me feel unsteady. I liked having the emotional support, but actually confronting Ron is completely different. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

  And what did he mean about me being bought and paid for?

  The tinkling of glass shards into a paper bag pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn back to Mia. “How do you know Ron, anyway?”

  “He was a buddy of Nic’s. I never knew him very well, but before tonight he seemed all right, aside from following that guy Clarence around all the time.”

  My brain chooses that moment to lock a memory into place. I’d been remembering Ron in the context of the Pretty Kitty, when he’d come alone and sit by the stage for hours. I’d completely forgotten that he was one of Clarence’s goons.

  Does Ron think I slept with Clarence to pay off the money Nic owed him? Who else in this town thinks that?

  Training camp means meetings, practices, weightlifting, film, more meetings, more practice, and at the end of the night, we’re lucky to get an hour to relax in our rooms before falling into bed and passing out. This year, we’re at a small private college about an hour from the Gators’ facility in Destin, and I swear it’s fifteen degrees hotter here than it is by the ocean.