by Claire Adams
“Jack, the wicked witch of the Midwest has issued an ultimatum,” I said, tipping my chin up to try and give at least the appearance of indignant strength. “I have to find a husband and start popping out rug rats or else I’m going to be disinherited.”
“Hmm, now that’s a new one,” Jack said as he grabbed a glass out of the sink and began polishing it before filling it and sending it sliding down the bar to a man who looked like one of the many annoyingly arrogant bankers and stockbrokers who populated the Loop.
He had one of those highly groomed five o’clock shadows that made me roll my eyes because he probably also used the word “manscaping” to describe what he did to his nether regions with some special tool he’d bought at The Sharper Image. I immediately dismissed him and his slick, little sidekick as more of the idiot douche-bros I’d met as I’d moved from sports team to sports team.
“She’s on the warpath, Jack,” I sighed. “I’m not sure what to do with this, but I know damn well I’m not going to be out looking for a goddamn husband while we’re headed into the season.”
“Sweetness, you are a piece of work,” Jack laughed as he shoved the menu toward me and said, “You need to eat something, kiddo. Order and I’ll have ‘em whip it up, pronto.”
“Wow, must be nice to get such quick, personalized service around here,” the douche-bro said as he moved up the bar toward me.
“Whoa, back off, Romeo,” I said shooting him the most withering look in my repertoire. “Not interested.”
“Who said I was after you?” he shot back. “I was looking for a damn menu, princess.”
“Hey, hey, hey, play nice, kids,” Jack said, tossing douche-bro a menu and waving him back to his end of the bar. Instead, the guy plopped down on the stool next to me and proceeded to do color commentary on the choices offered on Jack’s menu.
“So, you got fried cheese, fried mushrooms, fried pickles, and French fried potatoes,” he said, running a finger down the greasy, plastic cover. “I don’t see deep-fried burgers on here, though. Disappointing.”
“I know, right? I can’t get the cook to agree to experiment,” Jack said, brightening a bit at the suggestion of putting burgers in the deep fryer.
“Maybe if you offer him a bonus for every 10 sold, you’d make some headway,” the dark-haired man suggested. I turned to get a good look at him and was surprised when he looked up from the menu and said, “You want something, too, princess? Maybe a quinoa salad with balsamic vinegar and EVOO?”
“Fuck you, frat boy,” I said turning away in disgust. I’d had enough of the stereotypes for one day and this guy, though handsome, was just another symbol of my oppression.
“Oh, such a dirty mouth on such a pretty lady,” he replied in mock horror. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
I opened my mouth to tell him just where he could shove his sexist bullshit, but Jack ran interference before I could let the words fly.
“So, you want a burger, then?” Jack suggested as he picked up the order pad and focused intently on the guy’s order. “Joe makes the best burgers in the city and our fries are those big steak fries, not the skinny, little fast-food ones.”
“Sounds good,” the man replied. “Sold. I’ll take mine medium-rare.”
“I thought Neanderthals ate their meat raw,” I muttered under my breath.
“Only when we’re out hunting women with clubs,” he deadpanned as he shoved the menu back across the bar and flashed me an irritated smile. “What’s your problem, princess? Are you a lesbian?”
“Oh my God, you are a total asshat, aren’t you?” I said as I stood up and moved my bar stool slightly further away from him.
“Nah, just honest,” he grinned as he lifted his beer and took a deep gulp of it. He surfaced a few seconds later and let out a loud belch that made me wince before saying, “I find that honesty works better in the end. You seem to support that premise, princess.”
“Stop calling me princess, you idiot,” I said, looking away from his intense stare. I was pissed at him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t recognize how incredibly handsome he was. His dark, curly hair was combed back in an attempt to tame what obviously couldn’t be, and his dark eyes burned with an intensity that I’d only seen in the most dedicated players I’d worked with. He had broad shoulders and large hands that looked soft, but not pampered. I puzzled on this for a moment since most of the finance guys I knew had weekly manicures scheduled to keep their hands looking good. There was something very familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite place it; he looked like he belonged here in this bar, and yet he also seemed like a complete outsider.
“Well, then why don’t you tell me your name and I will?” he replied. I hesitated for a moment. If he didn’t already know who I was, then he was definitely an outsider in Chicago.
My parents had done a pretty good job of keeping Jonathan and me out of the press, but every now and then a story came out about our family, which I was named and usually photographed for. I’d learned to ignore most of it, but I’d also learned to be on the lookout for people who were after my name rather than actually wanting to get to know me. My general distrust had kept me from dating much in high school or college. This time I decided I didn’t care. The guy was an idiot, so I already knew I didn’t trust him.
“Payton,” I said, giving him a mildly irritated smile as I held out my hand. “My name is Payton.”
“Hello Payton,” he said taking my hand and shaking it firmly. I felt a small jolt of electricity flash through my body as my hand touched his and I looked up at him surprised. “I’m Dax. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Uh huh,” I said pulling my hand back. I searched the bar for Jack, but he was in the back getting the food and was of no help. “Nice to meet you, Dax. You a finance guy?”
“No, I’m not. Are you a running back?” he replied.
“Ha, ha. Like I’ve never heard that one before,” I said rolling my eyes and turning back to my beer. I could feel the shots working as I repeated his name over and over in my head. Suddenly it dawned on me where I knew him from and I chuckled to myself as Jack brought out the food. There was no way I was going to feed Dax Connor’s enormous ego by suddenly turning into a fawning fan girl. It was always better to take guys like him down a peg or two.
“Here ya go, young man! The best burger in town!” Jack bragged as he quickly produced catsup and Tabasco sauce from under the bar before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. When he emerged, he had a second plate in his hand, which he put in front of me, saying, “Sweetness, you need to eat something. You hear me?”
“Jack, I’m not hungry,” I said stubbornly. “Give me another shot.”
“Not until you eat something, kiddo,” he said, shaking his head as he smiled. I knew Jack well enough to know that he wasn’t going to give in to any of my whining or stubbornness, so I made a show of putting catsup on the bun and taking a bite out of the burger. Through a mouthful of food, I said, “Happy now?”
“Not until you eat the whole thing, Sweetness,” he said turning his attention to a couple of new customers who’d wandered in off the street.
“Why does he call you Sweetness?” Dax asked.
“C’mon, man, even a pretty boy like you is not that clueless,” I said rolling my eyes at his feigned ignorance as I dipped a fry in catsup and popped it in my mouth. “My name is Payton and this is Chicago.”
“Good point,” he nodded as he took a huge bite out of his own burger. We sat eating in silence, but I could feel the many questions that hung in the air between us. He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, and then swallowed and turned to me and asked, “So, you’re a Halas, aren’t you?”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I said rolling my eyes before calling out to Jack, “Hey Jack, pour me and Einstein another drink over here?”
“Sarcastic much?” he asked as he turned back to his burger. “Bet your life’s quite the story.”
“Isn’t everyone’s?” I said
, only slightly bitterly as I immediately lost my appetite and dropped what was left of the burger on my plate. I pushed the dish away from me and yelled, “Jack, where’s my whiskey?”
“Bitch,” Dax said under his breath.
“Sweetness, you did not eat your dinner,” Jack scolded as he pulled the plate off of the bar and dropped it in a bus tub under the counter.
“Why are you giving me grief today?” I asked, suddenly irritated with his overprotective-father bit. “You know I’ve had a rough day and I don’t need to be hassled.”
“Darlin’, I’m just looking out for you,” Jack said with a wistful smile. “Like I’ve always done.”
Irritated, I looked away to avoid Jack’s eyes and felt Dax reach out under the bar and squeeze my hand. I flipped my hair out of my face and turned to say something sharp, but he’d already withdrawn his hand and I knew that saying something about it would make me look like I was more than a little unhinged and that Jack would tell me I’d had enough. My hand tingled where Dax had touched me, and I felt my face redden as I briefly imagined what else he might be able to make tingle.
“All right, one more, Sweetness, but I’m cutting you off after this one,” Jack said as he lined up three shot glasses and filled them all to the rim. I grabbed mine as Jack pushed one toward Dax and said, “Salud!”
I stopped and clinked my glass against theirs and then slammed the shot as quickly as I could, hoping the alcohol would do its job quickly and efficiently. I just wanted to forget my mother and her ultimatum for a few hours and pretend that I wasn’t Payton Halas Lasky, whose duty it was to carry on the Halas name. I wanted to be carefree and have fun. I wanted to drink and dance and, if truth be told, I wanted to hook up with the handsome stranger sitting on the barstool next to me and lose myself in his touch.
“I gotta go pee,” I said standing up and teetering a bit before I righted myself and headed towards the bathroom. Jack had disappeared into the kitchen to get food for his other customers at the bar, and no one else noticed as Dax got up and quietly followed me.
Chapter Five
Dax
I held Payton’s elbow as she wove her way to the bathroom on wobbly legs, but when I pushed the door open and held it so that she could enter, she surprised me by pulling me in with her.
“Come in with me, frat boy,” she slurred a little as she pushed the door shut and turned the lock.
“Um, I’m not exactly sure this is a good idea, lady,” I said looking around at the dark interior and thinking about how easy the black walls would hide blood stains if Jack caught me in here with Payton.
“Don’t be silly,” she laughed as she went into a stall and sat down. “I just have to pee. It’s not like you’re ravaging me or something.”
“Still, I’m not sure Jack would be too happy if he found me in here with you,” I said nervously leaning against the door and hoping that no one came knocking on it.
“Oh, Jack’s just an overprotective bear,” she laughed. I could hear her urinating and it reminded me that I’d had quite a bit to drink as well.
“Don’t come out yet,” I said as I unzipped my pants and aimed into the sink.
“Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re peeing in the sink,” she called from the stall.
“Oh please, this is a dive bar. You don’t think anyone’s ever pissed in a sink around here before, princess?” I laughed as I emptied my bladder and tried very hard to aim right at the drain.
“Stop calling me princess,” she said icily as she emerged from the stall just as I’d zipped up my pants and started washing my hands. “I hate it.”
“Why? You’re football royalty in this town,” I said as she stepped in next to me and ran her hands under the water. We were close enough that I could feel her hip pressed against mine, and when she reached across me to pump the soap dispenser, I could smell the fresh scent of her hair and perfume combined in a heady scent. She was a beautiful woman. She was smaller than I was usually attracted to, with the lithe frame of an athlete. I wondered what sport she played.
“Yeah, but I’m not a fragile hot-house flower,” she said in a melancholy tone. “I’m smart and educated and I know sports, I just don’t understand why…”
“Why what?” I asked curious as to what she was talking about. She finished rinsing her hands and turned around to grab a towel from the dispenser on the wall, but the space was tight and she wound up facing me, pressed against my chest. For a moment, she looked up at me with a puzzled expression, and then she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down. She pressed her lips against mine and kissed me with a combination of intensity and desperation that felt wild and reckless. I held back for a second and then tossed caution to the wind and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her up off the ground while we kissed.
“Put me down,” she whispered into my lips and so I complied. Once her feet touched the ground, she quickly unbuttoned my shirt and began running her fingers over my bare skin. Her hands traced circles around my nipples as she kissed me harder and I felt myself growing stiff as she moaned softly into my lips.
“Payton…Payton…” I gasped as she reached for my belt and began unbuckling it. “I don’t think…”
“Good, don’t think,” she urged, biting my lip as she unbuttoned my pants and began pulling the zipper down.
“PAYTON HALAS LASKY!” a voice boomed from outside the bathroom as a heavy fist pounded on the door. “If you are not in there alone, that son of a bitch had better hope I give him a 10-second lead before I pound the shit out of him!”
“Buzz off, Jack!” Payton hollered at the locked door as I backed away from her quickly, trying to close my pants and button up my shirt so that I wouldn’t be murdered for what I hadn’t yet done. “I’m an adult! I get to make my own choices!”
“NOT IN MY BAR, YOU DON’T!” Jack thundered. “Open the goddamn door, Payton! Don’t make me break it down!”
I quickly moved toward the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. On the other side stood a man who was practically breathing fire as he prepared to bust the door to the ladies’ room down.
“Hey, hey, hey, it was an honest mistake,” I said, holding up my hands in a sign of complete surrender. I knew I could probably take him and beat his ass into the ground given the fact that I was in the best shape of my life and he had a good 20 years on me, but I knew that wouldn’t earn me any points with Payton and would most likely result in a lot of bad press coverage when I was charged with assault.
“Honest mistake my ass!” Jack shouted. “Get your traitorous ass out of this bathroom and away from that woman!”
“Jack, step down,” Payton said as she emerged from the bathroom with her hands on her hips. “I pulled him in with me. I’m a big girl and I can choose to mess around with whomever I like.”
“Jesus, Sweetness,” Jack said shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this is not good, young lady.”
“Goddammit!” Payton shouted. “I’m sick and tired of everyone treating me like I’m goddamn spun glass or something! I’m a woman who has needs and I’m not ashamed of that! This guy’s a good-looking hottie who seemed interested in me even though he already knew who I was, so I thought it would be nice to let loose and have a little fun before I’m chained to some rich asshole who sees me as his ticket to fame and fortune.”
“Payton, stop,” Jack said as he moved toward her. She held out her arms to stop him and backed up.
“No, don’t do that ‘Payton, you don’t know what you’re doing’ bullshit!” she shouted. “Don’t baby me, Jack!”
“But you don’t know who the hell this guy is,” Jack pleaded as he tried to calm her down.
“The hell I don’t,” she said looking me up and down. “That’s Dax Connor, owner of the Chicago Storm, Jack. I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him.”
“What the fuck?” Jack said as his head snapped so hard that I thought he might have actually done some damage. “You’r
e the fucker who owns that new team? The one who built the stadium and displaced all those kids who went to Morton?”
“Guilty as charged,” I said, raising my hand trying not to show the shock I felt about having been identified. She’d known who I was all along, but then I guess turnabout was fair play since I’d known who she was, too.
“How’d you figure it out?” I asked looking at Payton.
“Oh my God, you are such an idiot,” she said rolling her eyes and walking back to the bar. I followed her knowing that Jack was still out for blood, and feeling a little weird about the fact that Payton was my protection. I’d had my ass kicked many, many times before I learned how to fight dirty and make sure that none of the boys from Canaryville ever ran roughshod over me again. I didn’t like thinking about those days.
“But seriously, how did you know?” I asked as I took the stool next to her and waited for Jack to calm down enough to pour us each a fresh beer.
“Dax, aside from the fact that I belong to the family that started pro football as we know it, I have two degrees in sports management from Northwestern and have spent the past six years working my way through college football up to the low-ranking pro teams,” she said raising an eyebrow and finishing with, “You might say I pay attention to what’s going on in the league.”
“I had no idea,” I said shaking my head.
“No one really does,” she sighed. “That’s the problem. I want a career in football, but no one is willing to take a chance on me because they’re all afraid that I’m just biding my time until I take over the Bears organization.”
“Well, you are next in line, aren’t you?” I asked as Jack set two beers in front of us and muttered something threatening under his breath before moving down the bar to warn the bankers who were becoming a little too rowdy to tone it down.
“You want to know the truth?” she said, turning toward me.
“No, lie to me; that always helps establish trust in these kinds of situations,” I said dryly.
“Jackass,” she chuckled. “I want an opportunity that I’m not likely to ever get.”
